Here's what a former housemaster composed in June 2009
L________ and I decided to return to Aiglon to celebrate its 60 years. Why have so many taken a decision to break their journey into the future by stopping over at a point in their past? A nostalgia for a time held dear but maybe filtered kindly through a sunset lens? To meet up with friends and share the chat; or see again the ones forgot; or clinically observe the chemistry times changes worked? Or, just might as well as not. What complex motives drive us all!
I left the mountains of Aiglon in 1976 to live here on the Isle of Skye in this chain of islands off the west coast of Scotland called theHebrides. Nice name. At 20, I had seen them from a warship of a navy training squadron, amazed at their clean beauty, and that they were part of our own British Isles. Later, sea-faring adventures round the world behind me, I came back up here in university vacations to help pay my way reading English at Cambridge. For this I dived beneath the surface of these waters to fish for clams. Like flying in dreams to pass into this other world of crackling barnacles, green swirling mysteries and things that make you jump. Like walking on the moon up there in space perhaps. From outwards round the world to down and deep within. Maybe a metaphor for all our lives. We travel outwards in expectation till time suggests we look within.
And part of looking in, is looking back. Awareness of our roots and acceptance of all that made us what we are. Hence perhaps our fascination with reunions.
Last year I travelled south to Dartmouth, where 50 years before, with 90 other term-mates, wed joined the Royal Navy with eager willing hearts. Most of us were there. Cocktails thawed the frost of age and warmed the gammy legs, a recognition of the same young men we were when we were iron-bound in common cause and challenge, the flaming forge of shared experience. A long week-end of sharing tales and laughter, more now at ourselves than others, agreeing on perspectives, discovering the interesting paths since taken. And at the chapel service at the end we thought, as we used to, of those in peril on the sea, and gave thanks now for friends departed, and for each and all around us, re-joined, and glad that we were there.
And so, Im sure, with Aiglon. Forgive me if the teacher in me does not recognise the woman before me as the sharp young miss in the 3rd form who wrote the amazing sonnet to the clustered diamonds left untouched in crisp Alpine morning snow; or realise that this imposing man, father now of four and clearly most successful banker, is the same joker who ran the late-night high-stake poker sessions whilst his housemaster slept. And I thank those kind enough, these intervening years, to write or visit: more than rewards enough for one who simply shared a love of subject with younger fellow travellers.
My former Head of House in Alpina asked me a few days back what makes a good school. Well, I dont have time to write a novel, not today, but in short, if pushed, Id say a place to put down strong roots and grow in self-belief and love of others, a place to go back to with a happy heart.
Believe me, it will be a joy to see you all.
And all in all, and at the last, the last re-union, let us all believe it will be joyful to meet up again, a union with the oneness, however you conceive it to be.
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