Here Come The Girls

Question: What do two lawyers, a school exams co-ordinator, a lap dancer, a ballet teacher, an internet sales guru and a surveyor have in common?

Answer: They are lunching together tomorrow at a mini school reunion.

It's been ages since we all saw one another, and unfortunately we are a steam lined group of seven tomorrow, but it will be a lovely treat to see the girls, and have a good natter. Meeting up with them is like stepping back in time. Over the years, our conversation hasn't really moved on much, which is oddly comforting. If smutty.

We went to a girls grammar school in Kent, where our formidable headmistress was obsessed with the slightly unlikely prospect that one of us might, one day, be the next female Prime Minister. She was slightly batty, but fiercely proud of her "gals," and whilst we sniggered at her then, I guess her gin soaked heart was in the right place!

I'm not sure that any one of us was ever going to be Prime Minister, but we came out of her school as a pretty well rounded, if eclectic bunch. But most importantly, we came out having created ourselves our very own "old boys network" would make Mrs Lambert pretty proud, I'm sure.

Anyway, here's a photo of us when we were in the sixth form. We seem all to be rather slimmer than we are now, but are dressed, apparently, from our mother's wardrobes*. I had no idea then, that we'd still be pals now, but if I'd have known that photo would still be sloshing around now, I'd have tucked my top in, at the very least!

* We aren't! It's tragic, isn't it? We really dressed like that. We didn't wear uniform in the sixth form, but weren't allowed to wear trousers, t-shirts, trainers, boots, short skirts, long skirts, or anything attractive. Apparently. It rather limited our options, so we dressed like spinsters. Perhaps that was the idea ...?