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With apologies to Wordsworth whose world was too much with us...

The Matric Sleepover

As the time grew near, closer and closer, Wellington's bosom bared itself to the tens of tents which lay exposed to the ultra-violet rays of Apollo's golden chariot...

The shimmering water surrendered its virgin skin to the force of the bodies. Meanwhile, back at Wellington's, tucking was the name of the game, with tender boerie being braaied on the sizzling hot grid iron bars.

After much jumping and jiving, the youths migrated to the the termporary mini bioscope for something which was simultaneously crazy and oh-so-beautiful. "Every time I seem to throw an egg, crash, boom, bang!"

Fun and games began, including "greasy mullet", our personal favourite (and a copyrighted invention) stargazing and singing "campfire's burning" around Triton's magical flame (something wrong here, girls!) beneath Selena's chariot.

After the rising of the dawn, we detached the homes which we'd grown to love and know so well, and with a twinkle in our omnipresent eye said "Farewell, dear Wellington, farewell."

Michelle van der Westhuizen et al

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This page was last updated on 04 February 2003 04:04