Were you Fresh?

What I always say about Freshers' welcome is that you make plenty of contacts. You always bump into everyone in the College. Friday night was no exception when the young stampeded happily in on us as they have for generations gone.

A good time was had by all, and a better time, by some. The floor—crowded but still a kick in it; the band—well, Terry, M.C., and his Tuneful Troubadours made things go with a swing—(Hain't what you do, it's the way that you do it—oohcha); supper—super and, what was better, adequate.

There seemed to be some difference of opinion as to what one should wear on an occasion like this. Those in sports shirts looked much more comfortable, though those who sweated in tin shirts probably consoled themselves by the thought that they were sartorially impeccable!

A fair sprinkling of staff and His Majesty's uniform gave tone to the outfit.

Pep talks by Vice-President Higgin and Ways and Means Stacey followed Weir House haka party, all getting in tolerable good voice for Tournament. (Tournament seems like the poor—always with us.)

We couldn't help musing over the absence of the old familiar faces. (We particularly missed friend Scotney, giving Freshettes the once over). It was an occasion when the old College song, "Absent Friends," might have been properly significant.

Of course the old lags and the odds and sods arrived later when the man on the door had relaxed. Technique, that's what it is.