ARBORFIELD - Friday
21st to Sunday 23rd July 2006 inclusive.
The
following report & photographs contributed by Trevor STUBBERFIELD (52A)
Friday
"Were you truly wafted here from Paradise?"
"Nah mate. Luton
airport."
UK TV viewers of a certain age will remember the catch
phrase, even if they've forgotten it was advertising Campari,
a drink which also seems to have been forgotten.
I was to report to Luton
airport to collect three Northern Old Boys (NOBs)
traveling from Edinburgh
by Easyjet, and waft them to Arborfield for the
43rd Arborfield Old Boys Association Reunion. As I was about to leave
home I received a phone call to say that the flight would be delayed. A
second phone call said they had been called forward to the departure gate,
but there wasn't actually a plane. Logging on to "Live flight
information" at Luton,
the projected arrival time was now 18.35hrs. a delay
of 3hrs 45minutes. At the appropriate time I reported to the pick up
spot which is actually one of the most chaotic places you will ever
visit. My advice would be, if you are going to pick somebody up from an
airport, make sure it isn't Luton.
Wafting was out of the question, time was now of the
essence. We had planned a trip home for a cup of tea, a wad and a
comfort break, but we decided it was better to go straight from the
airport. SatNav was reprogrammed and we chose
the scenic cross country route, the motorway system is no place to be on a
Friday evening at the start of the school summer holidays. With gentle
prompting from the SatNav we set off at
19.00hrs. My system has a gentle cockney voice to make me feel at home,
none of this grating mechanical style voice. I can also answer back.
We made good time, passing through RAF Halton, which brought out tales of past contests between
Arborfield and Halton apprentices. We made
our first stop at Winnersh at 20.30hrs. where the SatNav was demounted
and handed into the care of friends for the weekend. They would ensure
that she was given ample opportunity to use her credit card in new shops and
would spend Saturday evening whooping it up at the local British Legion Club.
Passengers redistributed we set off for Arborfield
arriving at 21.00hrs. to be met by the armed
guard. A sign of troubled times and yet, thinking back to the mid
fifties, I remember patrolling the depot, suitably armed, when the Irish
"Boyos" were up to their tricks.
Nothing changes except I would have liked his level of fire-power.
We checked in at the Bailleul
Sergeants' Mess, found our accommodation keys and location instructions, the
annexed, and did the necessary so that we could join the throng, albeit a lot
later than planned. Everything Curried was the buffet but clemency had
been shown and there were one or two sandwiches available, contents
unspecified, bit of a blind man's bluff.
It was a great pleasure to meet up with George Thrower
52A, a reunion virgin, a gap of over fifty years since we went our separate
ways. Also Dave Pickworth 52A was on a
flying visit, Friday evening only unfortunately, but it was a chance to get
an up to date photo for the rogues gallery.
Dave was accompanied by his brother Ian 50A, so we got two Piping Pickworths for the price of one.
Ian and Dave Pickworth.
We gathered together the group of 52A members who were
there on the first night, some we would not see until tomorrow.
Frank Sam Bass George Percy Thrower Dave Pickworth
Trevor Stubberfield John Todd
Bill Gibson
Acquaintances were made, hands shaken, friendships
renewed, but on what was one of the hottest weekdays on record, and after the
rather traumatic travel disasters, it had been a long tiring day and bed
seemed very welcoming. Tomorrow was to be the main day and loins would
have to be girded to make sure we put on a great show.
 
Saturday
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