I knew I was getting old, but just in a natural unstructured sort of way, but hadn't really thought about how long it was since I left school. But yesterday it was brought home to me how long ago it was. I had a phone call from a girl (well, we're all still girls aren't we?) that I hadn't seen since we left school - in 1967. She's organising a reunion for later in the year and was ringing the Class of '67.
I'm not sure if I want to go or not. I have put off answering with a definite yes or no, as it will be on one of a my Saturdays at work. But do I want to meet all these girls again? I can't say they will be younger than me, but the chances are their lives will have gone in different directions to mine. Will they all be tall and slender? Rich and famous? Well, I'll never be any of those, but happy and contented? Yes. What would we talk about? There will no doubt be lots of "do you remember. . . " and "whatever happened to. . . . ", but how much will we still have in common? Are we all grey haired Grandmothers, with photographs of our families (and in my case cows as well)?
Someone wrote "The past is a foreign country" - and I don't know if I want to go there.
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