I’m feeling a tad maudlin today.

I received an email this morning. It was from my old school. I’m not sure how they got my address but I have vague memories of signing into a database once to see if I could find any old classmates. If memory serves me correctly I didn’t find any.

Anyhows this email arrived – Past Pupils Newsletter, Winter Edition 2023.

It’s a well presented magazine type of thing with lots of news about past pupils’ reunions and news of various pupils who have achieved greatness. Fair play to ’em all but even the highest achievers are only kids.

There’s a big article about an interview with a character who is now managing director of a major company here. It shows a photograph of the chap – he looks old! They say he’s Class of ’88. Class of ’88? For fucks sake! Now I am Class of ’67 so the chances are he wasn’t even born when I left school. In fact he definitely wasn’t born unless he was still at school at the age of 21. Or maybe he’s a late achiever?

They mention a few reunions. The earliest is ’88. They’re all kids, the lot of them.

The strange thing is that I know I went to that school but I have a strange disconnection. I cannot believe that my current body physically walked those corridors or received six of the best in one of the rooms. It’s as if some time in the past I switched bodies and the memories are there but my physical presence wasn’t.

I have no real interest in meeting with any of my old classmates. I presume a lot of them are dead. I know my Bestest Friend is. I can’t say that my schooldays were my happiest and frankly I would hate to go through them again. It’s all best consigned to history.

If they ever have a reunion of the Class of ’67 they can count me out.