The 2025 Chronicle

clean, but it was actually seeing ourselves in the mirror. Thabang walked past that mirror about ten times just to admire himself. A highlight of cycling was definitely completing the King of the Mountain challenge. When everyone finally made it up, we were rewarded with the coldest Cokes ever. Our Head of Sport, Mr Ravenscroft, however, could not complete the challenge, which was a true reflection of the mindset of Liverpool supporters. Every day we’d hear Mr Quaite shout the legendary call: “Duty boys!!” The three duty boys of the day would then appear – sometimes willingly but sometimes most definitely not. Being a duty boy came with power, though. You could get revenge on the previous duty boys who hadn’t given you enough food. If you got a small serving the night before, you were definitely handing out crumbs the next morning. Then came solitude. Forty hours alone to “reflect”. Solitude was… interesting. We got to see each other start fires, talk to ourselves and slowly lose our minds. We went into it positive, thinking it wouldn’t be that bad. But when I found myself the next day trying to hit flies with a stick I’d found, I realised solitude had won. The next morning, the iconic morning poem read by Mr Quaite signalled the end of solitude. “Awake! For morning in the bowl of night has flung the stone that puts the stars to flight…” And, as always, it ended with, “Awake and pay homage, you mor tal beasts!” To which Mr Cahill proudly echoed, “Mortal beasts!” That breakfast afterwards – egg and bacon on toast – was one of the best meals we’d had. Especially because the teachers cooked it for us.

After solitude came paddling. We’d been told it was the most relaxed section. It wasn’t. Flat water was painfully boring – and boring is never good when your partner is hyperactive. We had to create our own fun. Riley mastered the art of splashing oth er people’s boats – and, luckily for him, escaping before they could splash him back. My personal favourite part was watching Mr Charles pretend to paddle at the back while his partner Perry did all the work at the front. Finally came the farm walk – the home stretch. By then we were tired, a little smelly and emotionally finished. But we kept going. Mr Charles, who’d been all smiles throughout the jour ney, started to break a little and just wanted to go home. We walked through rain and lightning, and jumped over countless fences. It was definitely time to wrap it up. Honestly, some of the best memories came from sitting around the campfires – laughing, sharing stories from prep school, or listening to Mr Cahill’s tales about Michaelhouse in the days of VHS tapes. Looking back we were definitely the group with the best stories, the best laughs, and the best people. To all the staff: thank you for guiding us, taking snake bites for us, standing in front of bulls for us and, most definitely, for entertaining us. And to everyone in Group 2: we did it. Berg, cycling, solitude, pad dling, farm walking. We made it through – with bruises, numb bums and most definitely memories that will stick with us for ever. Thank you to each and every one of you, for every story, every cricket game, every card game, and for every Mr Quaite rage bait. In the words of Mr Cahill, “Ey, you okes are legends.”

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