A Leavers' Ball

Busy preparing for our leavers' ball tonight. My nails are pink, ablutions have been taking place since this morning, new make-up has been purchased, new shoes ready...and the dress, hanging clothed in it's plastic protector, ready to be bundled into the waiting taxi with trepidation and excitement.
Why is so much emotion pinned on that 'leavers' prom' that has taken over every American High School? Why are even we, in rural England, convinced we have to look a certain way, dress a certain way, and even really act a certain way on our 'prom' night? For us, the American traditions have certainly been toned down - I doubt any limos will pull into the drive of the venue, people other than those in relationships have not fallen over themselves to find dates, and there will be minimal matching of ties and corsages...or corsages at all. But there's still something about that last bash as a school group, that last party our parents get us ready for, that last night of limbo - half a child, half an adult.

 It's been several years since alcohol was introduced into the minds and livers of most of the year, so it's not like tonight is the first opportunity for a drunken loss of inhibitions. No, a leavers' ball is something beyond all that. It marks an end, and a new beginning. It marks a celebration, and a goodbye. It is a night spent with all those people we really love, and all those we kinda hate but may never see again. It's the end of 2, or 7 or even 15-odd years with the same people. And that's strange. But to cover up all the emotion that could be wrapped up in that one night, to mask the fear of the future and the regret of losing our safety net, our security and our home for the last years - we dress head to toe in gorgeousness, we curl and straighten and spray our hair, we dress, and dance and drink so we can't think about what tonight really represents....

Goodbye everything we've ever known.

Hello big scary future.


That's gotta be psychology, right?