Ninety have fun in Lochgoilhead

Well we get to school at 8-45. The p7s aren't to go in till 9-10 so their luggage doesn't trip anyone up. At 9-07 we get out the car - Léon sticks on his rucksack... 'Where's your ski jacket?' I inquire, nonchalantly. 'Oops! I've forgotten it. Never mind, I'm sure it'll be fine!' 'Emmm - no it won't - Up north in March for a week without a jacket? Are you barking mad?' I drive him back home, get jacket, get back to school for 9-20 at which point it is so torrential we can't get out the car! Fine? Huh! And so he's gone off to grow a little (probably both physically and psychologically, if the rest of this year is anything to go by) and make memories to last a lifetime. I love the idea of school trips. I don't remember much of primary school at all, not even all that much of p7 but I vividly remember a week spent in this draughty wooden hut in West Linton in the snow and freezing drizzle. I remember my dorm and dorm mates, what we got up to and where we went and yet it was 38 springs ago. I hope 38 years from now, Léon will be seeing his own child off on a trip like this, fondly remembering today in the same way as this little girl is remembering hers today.