I don’t always believe what I say; I don’t always believe what I write; I don’t always know what I believe. In short, I’m a pretty confused man! A year ago I think I portrayed myself as a teacher who had learned to be emotionally tough; as pupils I had taught or known for more than five years spun out of the eternally revolving doors that represent a Lambrook Education, I may have suggested that I tended to watch their passing with equanimity. On Saturday, after our Leavers’ Chapel Service, I concluded that the emotionally detached schoolmaster I had painted myself as, in the final edition of last summer’s Cedar was nothing but a chimera, an illusion. As the choir sang some cunningly selected pieces designed to pluck at the heartstrings, I began to feel waves of emotion sweeping over me. The final sung blessing – magnificently performed – completed the destruction of the granite pedagogue and I, along with many others, became no more than a two holed watering can.