All the things you experience in the Bucks bubble

NO WAY, YOU’RE FROM GX TOO?

It’s small, dense, and virtually impenetrable, even after you’ve fled to the North for uni and totes didn’t realise you’d bump into half your school year there.

Bucks; where you’re near enough to London to make bold claims about living there, but also removed enough that you can still jaunt through the Chiltern hills and be home in time for a Beef Wellington.

If you grew up here, you’ll know that there are several rites of passage that any Bucks resident must go through, each as pretentious as the next.

The girls/lads holiday to Mahliah, Nahpah, Kahvos, Zahnte

GIRLS ON TOUR AMIRITE?

It’s Year 13 and you’ve just aced your A-Levels because you had a really good education. Mummy’s proud of you, naturally. So after celebratory drinks and a gastronomic delight at The Three Oaks, she agrees to ‘chip in’ for your group holiday with the squad. The year above went to Kavos the previous summer, so obviously you have to go somewhere original or you’ll just look tragic. Napa it is.

You unanimously agree not to get the gals/boys ‘on tour’ tees because, do you even have to explain why? You let loose and take 500+ photos of your mates getting with the scum of the earth, then upload them online despite the ‘what happens in Napa stays in Napa’ rule.

You get henna mementos of the best PJs of the week that no one will get unless they were there, except they were there, because half of Bucks was there. The sordid week of lols you thought would never follow you home is now in fact all that defines you for years to come, because you got with Tom from RGS even though he was meant to be seeing Daisy from Becky High.

Field parties

It was as close to Skins as you were ever going to get. Bottle of Glens in hand and an alibi for Mum that you were staying at your friend’s for the night, the field party was a disaster waiting to happen. You’d rock up at 7:30pm with absolutely no plan except to neck said vodka, play music from your phone and cause a general ruckus in some unfortunate rich person’s hectare of land.

Someone usually ended up paralytic and if local chavs hadn’t shown up to scare you off by 11, then the likelihood was you weren’t being loud enough and your field party had been a flop.

Someone’s 18th at The Crazy Bear

A mecca for Bucks girls and boys coming of age and wanting to celebrate in the classiest of fashions, The Crazy Bear was just a must for ringing in the big 1-8. You’d sport your smartest garms and sip your first legal cocktail with an underlying disappointment that it didn’t taste as nice as you thought it would. Taking as many pictures of you and your mates in the edgy toilets, it might as well have been the Met Gala.

The Filthy Rich nights progression to Rev’s

Thursday night meant one thing, Winkers. Were you showing up to Gov and Politics on Friday morning? HELL NA, there was VKs to be drank, sweaty club pics to be taken and Winkers burgers to be consumed. The Farm was claustrophobic and full of hormones. It took its door policy way too seriously and at least two of your mates probably knew the owner. If you were lucky enough to ride the Winkers bus then you knew you were a Bucks elite, but as soon as you ‘outgrew’ it and realised a significant amount of youths were sharing the dance-floor you made the bold leap up the ranks to Revolutions, where the clientele were older, but just as weird.

A weekend job at Waitrose

It was like the absolute best day ever when a Waitrose branch came to GX and more of your mates could join in the weekly gloat about your John Lewis discounts. Wasn’t it great to go to work and feel like you were at youth club? Chatting with your friends, sharing lunch breaks together and clocking out at the same time to go on to someone’s party at The George. You’re on Ambient? No way, same! NO WAY.

Rivalry with all other Bucks schools

It went without saying that if you went to Challoner’s Girls, then by oath you couldn’t be friends with anyone from Becky High. If you went to Chesham Grammar, then you detested anyone from Challoner’s. And if you went to Aylesbury, then shit was going to hit the fan at the first opportunity at a Challoner’s Boys football match. You held your school in such high regard, that even if you actually got on with someone who went elsewhere, you would still resort to ignoring them at Winkers because loyalty. 

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