It’s not a celebrated place among most, I have to admit. Normally, people dread going there. They hate the obnoxious sound of the bell that signals to the masses when their next hour of torture is scheduled to begin. The taste of the cardboard food sold at the canteen and the mystery meat specials.

“Mrs Mac’s Chicken Pie – No longer contains rabbit!”

It wasn’t always my favourite place. There are parts of it that I can easily leave behind. The sight of my principal in a skirt that was a little too short to hide her generous behind and the way her ankles spilled out of her shoes; that I won’t miss.

It will be the atmosphere, where everyone was headed to the same goal; albeit some less eager than others. The way, secretly, no one cared what they looked like and there was no one to impress…except the decent looking student exchange from Peru. The coffee smell that drifted from the common room as we tried to wake up. The way everything was within reach, close enough to touch.

It was a wonderful place.