Jack Harty's account of his first London Dinner

On our last day of school in 2005, the last day on which some of us who had either lived with, or seen each other for 9 months of every year, would do so we sat on the south terrace and had a picnic lunch.

Talk was of our exams, our holidays and principally of our escape from Ratcliffe. I am sure it is true of every student, every person in fact, that after a certain amount of time in a place one begins to feel hemmed in, that they have more to offer the world than they currently have the chance to or that they have skills that are underappreciated. I for one, felt - and I cannot feel now my thoughts were fairly baseless - all three.

There were people who I knew I would never see again, and people who I knew I would see regularly - yet again; those things I took for certain now look so foolish. There was also a trepidation, for 8 years my room had been cleaned, my meals cooked and my day scheduled by a force I loved to hate. I was leaving my home, and would have to make basic - but important decisions for myself for the first time. It was bravado that hid these worries. We were the class of 05, we were respected, intelligent and promising young men and women.

Over the next few years I went back to Ratcliffe a couple of times. My sister Kate was still at the school and I came back in her final year to witness her hosting Sports Presentation Evening. The school - the once stable and fixed point in my life - had changed. I walked the corridors, and those people who I recognised didn't seem to know me, but more worryingly there were new students. People who didn't know me!

In May of 2009 I left Edinburgh where I had spent 4 years studying and came to London to find my fortune. In those 4 years I had changed a great deal, and lost much of the ignorance of youth. The sense that I would be a blessing to any firm or institution that I had when leaving school was gone. Replaced by a sense that I would have to carve myself a role in the world, against any number of obstacles.

My first couple of months in London were living with a friend of another Old Ratcliffian, Alex Russell. Although I had the relatively new tool of Facebook, and was able to see at a glance how many of my school friends were in or around London it was still a forbidding place. Eventually Peter Madden and I discovered we were living close to one another and met up. It was the first time we had seen each other since that day in 2005 and it was a good reunion. My worries that we would have changed beyond recognition were unfounded, we met up with Chiara Raine who was in town for the day and over the next few months Jess Armitage, Chris Lutterodt and Jonjo Henry.

Since November of last year we've met up regularly and in January of this year Chris told us about the London Dinner. After an initial silence Chris told us he'd booked his ticket and expected us to do the same. After a great deal of encouragement from Jackie Bennett we all signed up and agreed to meet in a local pub an hour before the meal. We did so, and it was the first time we had seen each other since school. Again, any worries that we would be different, or uneasy company were groundless.

We were far more nervous about entering a room full of Old Ratcliffians than we were about meeting one another. Jackie rushed over to us and made us immediately comfortable. It was rather odd, that in a room filled with successful and interesting people we were the stars. What looked to be a promising conversation the Headmaster was having with someone was cut short as Jackie seemed to scoop him up and drop him in the middle of us. In a conversation Mr. Lloyd must have been having since the start of September we told him how different he was from his predecessor - I would like to think we displayed a refreshing lack of tact. He had the good grace to thank us and set out his vision for the school.

The meal was memorable for its good fun, and certain thirsty ORs! When it came to the speeches, we had a trio of accounts; a spirit of past, present and future Ratcliffe. Although we were the youngest people their by almost a decade and some of the parents of our contempories were there (Jonty Myles father of Alice) the company was easy and the conversation flowed freely.

Things certainly seem to be changing, which is as it should be. No school, however sucessful or beautiful can afford to ignore the changing world. So long as its alumni still feel that thrill of pleasure when they think of not only their schooldays, but of the next time they'll be with their school friends then the school, our school, is still doing its job.