My hometown Ludwigsburg often features on my blog; you have seen the parks, the palace, the Christmas market, the fields surrounding the town, and of course my own place.
So far, though, you have not seen my old school.
On Saturday, I went back there. This was an official event organised by the school itself. Everybody they could find was invited - everybody who either finished school 25 years ago or attended the school during the years leading up to the finishing class of 1987 (I left before that, in 1984 at the age of 16). Now, it is never easy to find people from the past, and it is particularly difficult with women who, more often than not, have changed their surname with marriage. In my case, I have changed three times (married twice, divorced once and taken my maiden name back for several years until my second marriage), but since I happen to come across some of my former school mates at the gym every now and then, we were already in touch and so I was sent an invitation as well.
Going back to my old school was not so unusual for me; a branch of our town's library is in the same building, and so I have been there many times since leaving school. But, unlike yesterday, I have not been back inside any of the old class rooms, and certainly not with so many people from my class and others from the same year!
It was great seeing them all; some I did miss, some others I must admit I wasn't sorry about them not being there. It would have been nice to meet some more of our old teachers; only two of them (neither of them my favourites) made it to the reunion.
We shared old and new stories, some had brought old photo albums (which made for much mirth all around - did we really wear our hair like that, and go out in those outfits?!), there was coffee and soft drinks and snacks, and of course the entire event started off with some officials making speeches and showing us round the old familiar place.
A group picture was taken out in the yard, where every year we had to assemble for the school photographer to take our class photo. I don't have that new picture yet, but I'll show you what my school looks like:
|Approaching the school, this part of the ground floor is the library, serving both the school and the public.|
|Looking across the yard, the building to the left is the school I went to after I left that other school, and the older building to the right is where I went to elementary school.|
|Coming up towards the main front doors of the school. Of course, it only looks so deserted because it was a Saturday.|
It was built in the 1970s (as if you needed telling) and was state-of-the-art back then. We were told that, in a few years (2016 is the current estimate), the entire complex will be torn down and rebuilt according to modern standards. A lot has changed since the 1970s, mainly in terms of how energy is used in modern buildings to keep them warm or cool, and it would cost more to adapt the current building than to erect a new one.
You are probably wondering by now what my post has, so far, to do with Monica's post.
We are getting to that now: I am going to show you some of the various hair styles and colours I used to wear in the 1980s - not to mention my specs! There were some rather wild hairdos (think short, red and spiky) before that time, but only a few photos exist of me from those days, and none of them in digital format. Still, I hope you will find my little excursion into the past entertaining enough:
From top left to bottom right: 20 years old, 1988, when I finished Librarian School; same year, but a more cheerful picture; aged 19, looking daft; me at 17, when for a short time I thought I could be a blonde; 19 again and back to red Henna.
Since that time, I have seen a bit more sense and know that my hair is not meant to be long - it is far too thin for anything more than chin-length. And while for most of the 1980s I never wore my natural colour, I stopped the colouring at some stage, and it turned its mousy brown again. These days, I'd be almost entirely grey/white, were it not for the help of some cheap chemicals regularly applied. I keep saying that I'll stop it at 50 - but who knows what I'll really do in six years' time!