The past is a foreign country

Over the last few years I've noticed that I've not been one to dwell on the past too much; I suppose that's what buying a house does for you - you tend to focus more on the uncertainty of tomorrow than the rose-tinted memories of yesterday. And I think that's a good thing, because if you spend all day reminiscing you'll simply miss out on life as the world changes around you. And I don't want to do that, because the future brings iPhones.

Every now and then, though, something will happen to remind you of the past. Last week some old schoolmates of mine got together on Facebook and organised a reunion, an idea which, to be brutally honest, horrifies me.

Let me be even more honest: I didn't exactly have the easiest time of things at secondary school, mainly because I was one of what seemed like a small percentage of kids who actually wanted to learn something. It probably also didn't help that I went from being one of the most popular kids in junior school to a secondary school that lumped me in class with no one I knew. And I was a little on the chunky side. Can't children be cruel?

On the plus side, though, those days helped make me the person I am today - the person who is independent, fitter and stronger (both emotionally and physically - rawr!), and, if I may say so, successful. I quite like who I've become, so in that respect I suppose I'm actually (perversely?) quite grateful to those difficult school days. I was nothing if not a determined little bugger, and I stayed true to the course I set, weathered all storms, with the ultimate reward of being where I am today; a life I enjoy.

And I just don't feel the need to revisit the people, places, and events of almost two decades ago.

The thing is, you know that a reunion would ultimately, and inevitably, just turn into a forum for people vying for top-spot in the 'look-what-I've-done-with-my-life' league. It would be easier and more honest if everyone just lined up at the urinals and measured schlong. I'm comfortable with where I stand, and I have no need to boast about what I've been doing since I left school. I don't feel the need to be judged by anyone, least of all people whose names only appear in the periphery of my mind with the vaguest hint of recognition. And bearing in mind I'm pretty much unrecognizable from the person I was back then, I have no desire to spend an evening with a bunch of strangers reminding everyone that I was "the tubby one who studied hard."

Even more curiously, though, Facebook's presented me with some fascinating blasts from the past; some have been rather lovely, others surprising, to say the least; most notably today, I was 'friended' by a guy who, no word of a lie, I probably only ever had one civil conversation with in seven years of school. And he wants me to friend him? Why? Are we going to become good mates? Will we pop down the pub together? I don't think so.

So no, I won't be going to the reunion, nor will I be going to any future reunion; those few people who I wanted to remain in contact with from school, I'm still in contact with, and although we may not see each other that often I'm more than happy to meet up and catch up when we can.

Everyone else who wonders what the hell happened to the tubby kid who studied hard can just look at the picture of me on Facebook and wonder.

Rawr!