Kapunda High boasts some mightily impressive Moreton Bay Figs. They are central to the school’s landscape. With their wide limbs, they offer timeless beauty and reassurance.

After the ceremony and having taken a tour of the reopened building, I’m standing by the steps with Paul and Kerry McCarthy. We’re talking about the old Moreton Bay Fig which has stood by the side of Eringa for numerous decades and provides ample shade across the adjoining lawn. It’s a most magnificent specimen.

Kerry says, ‘On the night of the fire, Paul and I were worried we’d lose this tree too.’ I glance over at it again, its shadows spreading across the lush grass.

I reply, ‘Forget Adelaide Oval’s Moreton Bay Figs, this one here is my favourite tree, anywhere.’

Kerry nods and continues, ‘Yes, it’s mine too.’

If quizzed I’m sure it’d be the favourite of many who attended Kapunda High including a number who’re here this afternoon.

*

Lady Kidman’s Bedroom looks tiny. Despite being the boudoir of Isabel or Bel as she was also known, it’s about the size of similar rooms in modern homes. It’s now an office but when I was a pupil here it was a classroom and I remember History and Geography classes in it. With less than two hundred students, our classes were always small, but I still wonder how we squeezed in here. As a prefect, I slept on the floor when helping with the year 8 induction overnight stay.

There’s about six of us in there having paused our self-guided tour and it’s crowded. Why do familiar places from our youth shrink as we age? Greg Mickan and Phil Voumard share some stories from their time in this very room. I can’t repeat them here as they both might get a (significant) retrospective suspension (and caning)! Memory and its constant companion, affection, have demanded our attendance today.

*

My tour first takes me to what is now the museum. It’s downstairs and entry is gained by a long ramp. For me however, it’ll always be the Matric Centre and much of our learning, fun, and friendships happened in this subterranean space.

Descending through the doors, I immediately look right. It’s empty now but back then there was a row of carrel desks. There were only about a dozen of us in Year 12 and so we each had our own spot. In my row was Chris Rohde and Peter Davidson, and I was squeezed into the corner.

During those rare silent and secluded moments, it’s where I read and was devastated by George Orwell’s 1984 — set, as it was, just a single year in my future. On Friday afternoons we started our weekends with a study period and looking through the museum, I can hear the powerful voice of our beloved class teacher, Michael Krips. Almost every week he’d nobly remind us, ‘It’s not a half hour pack-up!’

*

Making my way to the book stand I buy a copy of From The Ruins Eringa Rises. It looks (and is) great having been written and compiled by local icons Macca, Danny Menzel, and Anne Hornsey.

Groups are mingling on the lawns in the fading light. I shake hands with many of my teachers including Geoff Schell and Robin Burgess. Robin makes his now customary remark to me that given I’ve been allowed into the event, ‘Security can’t be too flash.’ I see former colleagues too and some more Mickans. In the Moreton Bay Fig shade, Andrew Hayward and I discuss the general, buoyant state of life in Kapunda and anticipate a beer together, soon.

I take a few moments to think about the day here in 2021, when Claire and I were married on this treasured lawn.

*

Strolling back to my car, parked on West Terrace, I pause and turn around. Fittingly, the warm sun streams in across Eringa and its inviting gardens. The building is handsome and quietly proud. My head’s buzzing with stories and faces and recollections.

Squinting at the facade, it looks as it always did, like the fire never happened. Surely, this means the restoration is a dazzling success.

With this, Kapunda and its high school feel exactly as they should.