Back To School

Although no one will admit as much, it’s always exciting to be back at school after the long summer holidays.

The thrill of breaking up in June fades rather quickly, and an unfulfilling routine of YouTube, WhatsApp and Facebook fills the time between family trips and days out. By the final two weeks everyone’s state of mind lies somewhere between bored and very bored.

It’s great to actually see each other again too. Unlike at state schools, not everybody lives near to Eton. My best mate, Hugo, comes from up north, and several boys in my year live as far away as Singapore. Being away for eight weeks leaves a lot of catching up to do.

In some cases, ‘catching up’ means listening to a monologue on all the exotic destinations the person went to over the summer. If it wasn’t Australia, Barbados or the Maldives it was Mauritius, Florida and Kenya – the kind of places which offer swimming with dolphins, arm wrestling with tigers and monkeys serving your breakfast. Oh, and a suspicious number of very easy women.  

Closer to home, the only respectable location is Cornwall, the countryside equivalent of Kensington and Chelsea. If you didn’t already know, this English county is where rich teenage boys and girls swarm to each summer with intentions of bacchanalian debauchery. Although the reality is rather different, it doesn’t prevent endless anecdotes about the unlimited vodka that was procured, the excessive consumption of said vodka, the seduction of Arabella Radley-Jones on the beach and then the stomach’s expulsion of the booze into a crab pool.

Besides dubious holiday accounts, being back at school means noting changes in each other’s appearances. Some people return taller, leaner or with a brilliant tan. This is, without exception, very irritating. Much better is when an annoying E blocker has developed acne, or when your enemy in the house is hobbling around on crutches.

Lastly, there’s the possibility of what lies ahead. The chance to impress in trials and make the A team. The chance to play a solo in the school concert. The chance to win the Maths, History or Divinity prize.

Or, for one ambitious D blocker, the chance to show everyone he can now smoke. Without coughing. Practice makes perfect.