So. Thursday, June 29th. Woke up at 5:45 AM British time, on the ferry from Zeebrugge, Hull-bound. Breakfast at quarter to seven, arrived at Port of Hull at about 8, coach left at about 8:30, after some delay arrived at JGHS at 14:30. This left me an hour to get home, take a shower, dry my hair, before I had to go to Celeste Beauty Spa to det my make up done (by a very nice woman named Thursa), then an hour and 45 minutes to do my hair and get dressed, before I had to get to school. All in a hurry, of course. But I managed! After greeting - and photographing - some of my elegantly dressed graduating schoolmates (alas, only a few classmates!), the ceremony started. Not being among the ones graduating, I found a seat in the second row in the audience, next to some father no doubt, who frequently chuckled as the now former sixth years were handed their progress files (nope, no folders with exam results here; as a rule, the SQA doesn't send them out until August!). I don't know if the man was laughing with joy, or if he was secretly making fun of the kids, but he was obviously not just laughing at his own kid - whose identity I don't know - because he laughed at lots of them. I just smiled, just like everybody else. This was a happy occasion. After seeing all my yearmates (I just made that word up, fyi) formally leave the school, knowing that I alone was left to do this a whole year later, there was a champagne reception. Of course everybody was still smiling. I congratulated a few people, among others my registration classmate Saffiya. She was standing with her parents, and for the second time ever I was told that I resembled Nicole Kidman, this time by Saffiya's father. !!!!. He said that I "could be a double for Nicole Kidman." Excuse me? I think it may be the hairdo - the last time somebody commented on this, Miriam H., I was also wearing my hair in a chignon. I think I'll start doing it that way more often!

Three coaches took the whole class of '06 to the Balmoral, during which ride I saw a proof that it is not just in Rob Roy and Braveheart that Scottish males wear the kilts according to tradition; a couple of boys in the coach in front of the one I was in mooned the world. Nice.

When we got to the Balmoral, one uniformed usher after another showed us to the room where the ball was to be held. I took a picture of the menu, and Hannah B, who was sitting next to me, graciously modelled all three courses for me. (I'll post a link for the internet album with the photos from prom as soon as I can get them uploaded!) Needless to say, they were all delicious. After dinner, some tables were cleared off the dancefloor and for a while some '80s music was played, while the ceilidh band set up. Shortly after, the ceilidh dancing started, and my oh my do the Scots love to dance traditional dances. And not surprising at all: it's really fun, even if you don't know the dances step by step. Before each dance, the band gave simple instructions, but just saying the name of the dance, a lot of the kids knew how it went. I, of course, was like a chicken, but it was fun all the same, and after a few minutes (each dance is up to ten minutes!) I usually got the hang of it. Usually. I kicked off my shoes before dancing, as my shoes have slight heels and are not completely fastened (and can therefore easily fly off), and the brand new - disposable - M&S tights I wore bore new memories after each dance. From now on they will only be worn cut up in my hair, after being washed of course. I also put on the convenient short, small jacket before dancing, in case the dress would slide down just a little. Alas, one time it didn't make much of a difference - the dress twisted so much that when the dance ended the zipper was at the front, and a little black showed. I have no idea, and don't want to know, if any more black had showed while I was dancing.

When most everybody, including teachers, were either tipsy or even pissed, and sweaty from all the dancing, I witnessed a second proof of how the Scottish traditional costume for men is worn. And this time a little more explicitly. I was standing by the dancefloor where the huge windows were open, to get some fresh air, when a rather smashed guy whose name I don't remember (obviously I can't remember all 100+ names, most of whom I didn't even know!), who had just finished a dance, came and took a seat on the window sill by which I happened to be standing with a couple of other girls. However, the little crack of the window that was open was not nearly enough for him, so he opened it up completely, and climbed out. This could only end in trouble, one way or another. Some of his friends who came over to try to coax him inside again assured that he had climbed higher heights, so this was nothing for him. However, drunk as he was, he hadn't remembered that he was wearing a kilt, and so when he was climbing out, the lower part of his attire slid up his things, revealing the family jewels to everybody in the vicinity. When informed of this after he was back inside, all his drunken self said was something along the lines of, "Oops. Sorry". No shyness there...

The ball ended at midnight, and everybody headed to afterparties or whatever plans they had. I went with Anna, Katie, Lyndsay and Emma F. to Lyndsay's house to relax for a while and get something to drink before heading out to the Links, where most of the S6 had decided to spend the night - the whole night that is. 10 minutes turned into 40 minutes. After a mobile conversation with Sam, Katie informed us that at the moment everybody was at Ewan's house ("Who's that" I asked), which happened to be in just the next street to Lyndsay's, so we decided to go see who was there before going to the Links. And, it turned out, everybody was there; including the people we had previously agreed to meet at the Links. Well, OK then. At this party, I again witnessed how a kilt is traditionally worn, this time only partially. Thankfully. It was an unpleasant sight, which I will not describe in detail, only that it involved two drunk guys, an umbrella, and a bum.

Having watched people having fun while under influence, and knowing that I couldn't do that myself, nor that I could stay up all night with them before going back to school the next day for the end of year assembly and to get our yearbooks - While shattered of course - I found it too depressing to be around anymore, so at about 2:30 AM I called a cab to go home. It just so happened that right before I left, the police had been called by annoyed neighbours, and the party had to be broken up, so as I was leaving everybody was heading to the Links to spend the night there.

So as not to stand out from the crowd, I slept perfectly still on my side, so neither my hair nor make-up was ruined. Much. Then when I woke up I put on my whole outfit, aside from the messed up tights and not-so-appropriate-when-recently-woken-up shoes, which I replaced with heel socks and white low-top Converses. Then I took the bus to school - with mom's umbrella while walking to and from the bus stops of course - and what do you know, I arrived two hours after everybody else, who had stayed up all night and come to school at 8 AM, wearing their ball gowns or kilts. We received our yearbooks, signed and signed, and then took our seats on the stage in the hall (!) during the end of year assembly, while only a part of the rest of the school was cramped into the hall. After some performances the younger classes had rehearsed during alternative timetable week (when I was on the Belgium music trip) the song Bamboleo, which the S6 Diversecity (and no, this word is not misspelled) dance was danced to, was played, and we all walked out of the hall, down off the stage by a few red-carpeted steps that had been added for this purpose, together. The younger classes both frowned in jealousy, smiled in adoration, or (mostly) laughed at us, probably because we were still wearing the clothes from the night before.

For about an hour after the end of year assembly, there was more signing, goodbyes were said, and there was tear-shedding (not by me, nota bene; I'm not leaving :( Though I was a bit sad to see everybody getting to leave for uni or a gap year or whatever, while I was left behind to stay on another year with a new S6 class) by some. It suited the overall mood that it was pouring rain, as opposed to the warmness of Thursday.

So. I think that's it. This has been my account of the last two days of my former S6 classmates at JGHS.