Soirée Fever

A flash of colour, the tuning of a violin, the scales of a piano, a sung off-key note, and the jingling bells and tassels that dance past us down the hallways. Welcome to the world of Arabian days, and throwback nights, as we scurry past through history and song, dance and verse, and scene after scene. Curtains are raised, mics in place, we’re almost set; Soirée 2015, let’s bring on the Soirée Fever.

And as proud Aloysians, we are most certainly boastful of our traditions; those formal and informal.

As Soirée participants rush down the halls during Soirée week showing off their individual colour code in the hoodie that students are ever so proudly to wear, a sense of common pride is deeply felt, as though each participant, no matter how minute their role may be, holds a critical place of importance within the production. And yet, the most magical thing about it is that they really do. For a production so great, an outsider would easily assume that this is not the case. However, we are so tightly wound round one another, that the absence of simply one person is greatly felt upon the stage, pit, crew, or individual teams. Each and every one of us holds the weight of responsibility - for over 250 participants, we are proud to say that we are one for all, and all for one.

Pride leads to a bond, and a bond means family. As a school, we are very small and tightly knit. Tis' the season for 1st and 2nd year students to come together as one, to celebrate our passion. One team; we know the ins and outs of each other by now. It is a spectacular chain as a flow in the team is created from one to another, a spectacularly detailed system of teamwork, so great and fine, that outside observation of the system is simply mind-blowing, and the absence of 1 mere link in the system is a loss which is too frail to make up for.

Ah, and bonds are really built. As the pride in our hearts grows and grows, in combination to the bonds that are already being built, a solution is concocted, and that is no complicated chemistry that needs to be understood - pretty straight forward, isn't it? For those who still haven't understood, maybe they'll understand when they are caught in their acts at our notorious after party, by the echoing shouts of "jghabbi!" followed by the selfies our annoying best friends would take - tisk, tisk, no privacy. Ah, the price to pay for love in the heat of the moment.

Speaking of prices to pay, this leads us to our prominent Valentine SAC tradition that originated of late; the poem reading. Watch out boys; this is your price to pay for every single girl you feel the urge to 'feed on', once acting upon it. The rule goes that our little rascals have to read out a humorous love poem to their girls, and indeed better halves (or at least they'd wish so). If this is not done, the boy's friends would read the poem out to the gathered crowds (and this is usually even worse).

I'm genuinely sorry when I say this boys, but there's no way out of this. Our Aloysian police shall be on your tails this week taking photographic evidence for your committed felonies. If the girl is lucky to stick around through all this, you're either the sweetest guy in the history of males, or the girl is simply a treasure. If you're in the relationship already; run. Save yourself. Break up with the poor guy and save him the torture. Or at least fake it in everyone's eyes, it might make a comic attempt, and save a whole lot of attention and embarrassment.

Dearest most cruel friends out there, brush up on your poetry, and skills in rhyme, for the Soirée you know at present day shall change. It's only a matter of hours now. Simply numbers; counting the numbers left to the show, the pride, the bonds, the affairs, and your imminent torture. It won't simply be laid out for you, gentlemen. This week is going to be one hell of a carpet ride; sit back, and enjoy the show.