The Summer Term is drawing to a close and the Headmaster has been seen pacing his office mouthing what we assume to be his Commemoration Speech to the portraits of our past glorious leaders in their frames. The gardeners have been working into the night to prep and preen the borders around "quad" and chase any wannabe croquet players off with a steely glare (and rumour has it a rather sharp pitching fork). The 1st Cricket XI are lined up for an Exhibition match against the Old Boys and everyone is in high spirits at the prospect of a leisurely month and a half off. One of my Removes attempted to greet me today with a high-five so it has been confirmed that morale is solid. Lights Out Ladies

There are also nerves about, the end of year apparently brings the customary end of year pranks by the school leavers and staff are second-guessing what treats they might be in store for this year. The Head of Religious Studies told me that last year Mr Taylor, the College organist, had been hospitalised for a week after a "minor myocardial infarction" on discovering the pupils had wrapped his organ in cling film and graffitied the outside of it. Everyone seems on tenter-hooks.

All of this was far from my mind as I raced down for a late breakfast in the Dining Room on the last day of term. Turning the corner sharply and reaching for a tray I looked up. I'd missed breakfast. The whole hall, practically two tennis courts in length and width, was empty. And not just of people and food but of tables and chairs. I checked my watch, panic rising that I was in fact late for Period 1. At the same moment I heard a babble of voices and, realising it was coming from outside in Quad walked to the double doors at the opposite side of the hall. It seemed the whole College had reconvened. Staff and pupils were talking through mouths of croissant as the dining staff looked on in bewilderment. Every table and chair had been placed outside in the exact same layout as inside.

Across the quad I could just make out Ian, the Head Gardener, standing stock still staring at the scene, a large pitch fork in his left hand and a menacing look in his eye...

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