Back-to-school season means it's time for parents to fork out for new school uniforms.
The value of uniforms has been hotly debated since at least since I was wearing the blue tunic required by Hastings Girls' High. Wearing a uniform didn't do me any harm.
Back then I was agnostic about school uniforms. Wearing one bothered me not one iota. I didn't love it. I didn't hate it. I'm sure I thought the design could have been improved but I was at peace with the general concept of regulation garments.
Somehow the sea of blue when the girls all crowded into assembly and jostled for space in the hallways that connected the classroom blocks (and were reserved for use on rainy days only) seemed fitting. It would have been strange to have encountered students in disparate multicoloured garb. I now wonder if the uniform was part of the reason I still remember every word of our old school song.
And I do sometimes tunelessly screech out the words, much to my daughter's dismay. If I'd sat in assembly checking out other people's outfits and fashion choices, I bet those lyrics would not have stuck in my head for 30-plus years. It might have been the unremitting boredom of nothing-to-see-here conformity that enabled my mind to focus on the moment.