So, we’ve heard all about the fun I had getting to and from Lancaster; the jolly old time I had wandering around taking photos of various pubs, and indeed the tale of the calamity which befell Interstellar Master Traders.

Now it’s time to talk about the people.

Someone expressed the thought that they were a little apprehensive, as maybe we just wouldn’t have anything to talk about any more. We all had one major thing in common then; we were all students at Lancaster. Now we’re a much more diverse bunch, working in different fields with presumably somewhat divergent incomes, divergent lifestyles (you’ve got the singletons, the new couples, and obviously the offspring-producing sort).

What would we have in common now? It’s a fair point…

However, the conversation was easy. In many cases it felt like we’d all met up for a pint at some point last week, rather than twelve years ago. However, the conversation naturally revolved around Lancaster — mostly of the “what were we like, eh?” type — and so it’s difficult to say that we accurately demonstrated we’d have something to say to one another over a longer time period.

I’d like to feel that we would, but I’d have to say that we didn’t prove that. But I’d be happy to take up the opportunity to meet up with various people again: whether that’s another reunion in a few more years, or just getting together with people as and when I’m in their vicinity (or vice versa). Either way, I’d like to think that we can manage to stay in touch a little better than we did last time, having for the most part all managed to lose each others addresses within about a year of leaving university.

So we went out for a few pints, met up with the Principal of Furness College (who, in case you are wondering was someone we knew in the first place), and went for a curry.

The curry was… well, I’d describe it as cheap. It wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination a posh restaurant, but that was fine. Of course, when I say it was cheap, that probably makes you mentally add “…and nasty”, which would be unfair. It was decent quality grub at a very cheap price — it worked out at around £12 per head including drinks and tip.

Then we wandered over to the Bobbin, which was a rock pub. Here things got… well, interesting.

We bumped into another two former students. There was a minor problem here in that one of them was the ex-girlfriend of one of the members of our party, so that made things a little awkward for those, which meant that we temporarily split into two groups: one group staying to spend an hour with our surprise guests, and then meeting up with the other group again later at the Sun…

It was a particularly nice surprise for me to see these two, as I’d not managed to keep in touch with one, and had only vaguely kept in touch with the other (the ex-girlfriend one) to the point where I had her home phone number only it was so long since I’d spoken to her I didn’t have a clue whether it was still her number or not. She still lived in the Lancaster area, but t’other one didn’t, and was in fact returning for the first time since her graduation.

It was one of those moments that makes you believe in fate/predestination, at least for a while. I was thinking “what are the chances of this happening?”. If theoretically we’ve arranged a reunion for the first real time in 12 years, and that same weekend she decides to come up for a visit, the chances of them coinciding must be hundreds to one against.

Initially my maths went:

• Chance of us being there that weekend: one reunion in 12 years; 1 in (12 * 52)
• Chance of them being there that weekend: one revisit in 12 years; 1 in (12 * 52)
• Chance of us being there that weekend: 1 in 624. Chance of them being there 1 in 624
• Chance of us both being there at the same time: 1 in (624²) = 383,376

Initially therefore my thought was that if the chances of us both being there that weekend were 383,376 to 1 against, it would seem quite logical to start believing in ‘fate’. Of course, I’d had a pint or two, and so there was a flaw in my logic (as Rolf would say: “can you see what it is yet?”), but I’d suspect that the odds are still hundreds to one, which ought to be fairly impressive.

So it was like the reunion had special bonus guests. Which was nice.

But it wasn’t just about the students. No, the night before I’d met up with one of the townies. When I used to work in a bar as a student (the Brown Cow, in fact), I became very good friends with one of the barmaids there. We actually remained in touch from me leaving university: I went back to visit her once with a friend (and we ended up sitting on her doorstep at five in the morning, freezing cold and wondering where she’d gone, but that’s another story); she also came up and visited me. Not only that but I am fortunately on her ‘text-a-joke’ list so I regularly get to her the latest incarnations of sick jokes from her.

And I had an absolutely stonkingly good night out with her too.

In short, I had a fabulous weekend.

And I really must keep in touch with them all better, and try and see them all more often. But especially [insert name here], because it really made my weekend to see [insert name here]. Ah, what a weekend!