Just North of Retford

Our George School Ambassadors were asked to share their favorite spot on campus. Read on to learn about Jake’s (Class of 2016) favorite spot. 

It is strangely comfortable how safely and spontaneously my back melts into the mix of brick and backpack that function as the pit stop for this specific realm on campus. All around me, people of all shapes, sizes, ages, and ethnicities, whiz by, but I remain at the pit stop–refueling–sometimes with a friend, ofttimes alone, as the day turns to after light and the academics morph into athletics. I sit and I rest. Some would find it uncomfortable, almost strange and meticulously attention grabbing, however here, and when I saytwo bushes intertwined with brick in the background. ivy on the ground here, I mean campus, it is normal – accepted, if I may. So I lay, under the bush of no blueberries, to the north of Retford. I wait, I know not of the event I place myself there for, but I know that its arrival is soon to come. It brings me joy, just to ponder, to think and push down the pedals of my mind, knowing that body will remain in rest as soul effects change in the pit stop.

 

I lay to the north of Retford.

 

The basics would call it “my favorite spot.” But we are not basics–we are the northerners–pardon me, The Northerners, The Northerners of Retford, Land of the mathematic majority, and painting and drawing minority. Though, thou mustn’t forget the small tribe of video conjurers. Oh yes, we must not forget those. We must remember as we rest in our spot. We must retain the memory. We must expedite the urge of refusal and decompose the endorsements of movement. For here at campus, we are free. The Northerners may seek seclusion, but they understand the tangible lack of animosity for their hinds. They understand that as they lay under the bush to the north of Retford, they are not alone – a sea of other pit stops surrounds them and their own. The Northerners beckon the flood.

 

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