What's that? Must have been a child prodigy, did I hear you say? Well, while you pick yourself up from the floor and try hard to cope with the shock of how someone still so fresh-faced and youthful looking could possibly have launched into higher education as long ago as 1996, I should point out that it doesn't feel that long ago to me either.
Fresh-faced and youthful looking. Pah! Today I look like a sunburnt balloon.
I was thinking this morning about the advice I would give myself, unpacking those boxes in Eastwood 6 room 9 on that Sunday afternoon. Would I tell myself to avoid so-and-so, who would manipulate me into such-and-such? Would I mention Deniol's awful rugby trainers, or Chemistry Dan's attention-seeking attempt to trap a squirrel in a saucepan? Would I tell myself about the infamous Baron Party?
No. That detail ought to be lived without precognition. I think I'd tell myself to be bold, take hold of the opportunity to reinvent myself, and absolutely be discerning about whom to be friends with.
"And on Friday when you go to that first CU meeting, don't let yourself be intimidated by anybody," I imagine my older self saying to my younger self, remembering.
"Are you Matt's dad?" says a young man whose nickname is about to be Ming the Merciless, standing in the doorway. My older self shuffles out of the room and looks back.
"Something like that," I say, smiling at the two boys, "And remember," I continue, looking back at the oh-so-familiar breeze blocks, desk, bucket chair and bed, "When you see her, be her friend first but whatever you do, don't leave it too long."
They shrug as I whistle down the stairs, out through the green front door and back to the future.
"Who was that?" asks Ming, in his Nottinghamshire accent, "Don't mean to be rude but he looks a bit like a sunburnt balloon."
No comments:
Post a Comment