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Memories of Year 9

May 25, 2011

I ache again; I'm over you.

It was important: at 13 going on 14 you’re establishing yourself as a teenager. Which route to take? Rebel now, obviously, and cause concern for the whole family – immediate and extended; or continue to be a shining beacon of example and rebel privately, hiding pint flats of vodka and hurriedly cleaning up alcohol vomit at midnight? Upon reflection, RoT thinks it might have saved its rebellion (secret) for later years. Year 9 was an important year: there were decisions to taken – media studies or geography? Information technology or German? – and exams to be sat. But it’s sad, looking back, to realise just how little these things mattered. RoT has an atmosphere, vivdly blazed on its mind, of a scorching summer and lunchtimes spent indoors, working on a home economics project. Where is that now? Who benefited from it? It is lost, along with a hundred other memories that RoT used to have – of laughter and friendship and mischief – dropped from the mind like a too-hot jam tart taken straight from the oven. Time has eaten them, just as it ate the person RoT was in Year 9.

Verdict: Year 9 was probably one of RoT’s favourite high school years. But the memories of that time, bleached and tattered by the passing years, leave RoT frothing with bitter, mournful regret.


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