PLAYTIME'S OVER...

My old school on March 19th, 1988, my dog Zara in the foreground

I was interested to read within the pages of my local newspaper that, in the countdown to one of my old primary schools being demolished, the floor tiles in the dining/gym hall are being lifted and will be made available (at a price) to former pupils seeking a memento of their childhood seat of learning.  I, of course, will be amongst those wishing to avail themselves of the opportunity, as I'm just the kind of person who appreciates having some kind of tangible reminder of a particular aspect of one's youth.

The school will be 50 years old on December 16th, though I'm not sure if that date was when the school was completed, open for use, or the day of the 'official' opening.  You see, the new building which replaces the old one has been open for over a year, but the 'official' opening ceremony won't take place until December.  (The 16th, I think.  See what they're doing there?)  Therefore, I'm not quite sure how old the original building is to the very day, but it doesn't really matter.  It was probably not quite two years old when I began attending back in 1965.

50 years.  It somehow doesn't seem possible that I first trod that varnished floor 48 years ago (on November 10th) and have continued to do so at numerous jumble sales, coffee mornings and the like over the intervening 43 years since I left to go to secondary school.  On the afternoon of my last day at primary, I was in my local cinema at a prize-giving ceremony where Disney's The WIND In The WILLOWS was shown, and though I was glad to be there at the time, I'm now rather sad that I never got to see out the complete final day at my old school.  (I was returned after the prize-giving and collected my jacket from the classroom, but lessons had just ended and pupils were already streaming out through the gates as I arrived.)

Soon the school will be gone, while its replacement looks over the empty space from a nearby corner of the grounds.  It will be strange to visit the area once the foul deed is done and not see the familiar building in its accustomed spot, but at least I'll have the consolation (small though it is) of having a floor tile that I once ran over in carefree abandon when I was a much younger, fitter and better person than I am now.  Back then, the world lay at my feet, but nowadays my feet won't take me very far.  Just as well then, I suppose, that there's really nowhere else I'd rather be.

Memories:  Parent council members Shona Kinloch, Eddie
Goldberg, Margaret Gilbertson and Shona McLennan

However, it's a sobering thought to realize that my time was 'yesterday' and that I'm clinging on by my fingertips to what's left of today.  Tomorrow may well belong to others, but, selfishly, I find myself not quite wishing that tomorrow never comes, but that it's a good long while in arriving.