I have been writing Trusty Water Blog posts for 15 years now and while I may not update it as regularly as I once did, I still usually write something at least once a week (even if most of them are just book reviews). Anyway, if the fifteenth anniversary of my blog isn’t the time to be self-indulgent, I don’t know when is – and I instead of the usual sort of sentimental self-reflection that I write, I thought why not write an interview between the me of today and the me of 2011 who started this blog? So that’s exactly what I did.
Past Me: Good evening. My name is Adam Randall.
Now Me: Gosh, what a coincidence, so is mine. So Dalfino made you start a blog?
PM: Yes, well, we were both sitting in the Study Room and he said I should start a blog after hearing an anecdote that I regaled him with.
NM: I remember – I was there after all. Then you updated it every single day for a short while, before dropping down to three times a week, and now once a week.
PM: Oh. How disappointing.
NM: No, I don’t think its disappointing. I’m quite pleased we managed to keep it up for fifteen years. That’s just three years less than the entire time you’ve been alive at the moment. But, anyway, let’s add some depth to this. Tell me about your biggest concern right now?
PM: Well, everything is about to change. I’ve got the A Level exams and then university, assuming I get good enough grades. I don’t know what to expect from that. I guess the main thing is being separated from all my friends. They may be drunken fooligans, but I’ll miss them and I don’t imagine I’ll make new friends once I move onto uni.
NM: Did you tell your friends you’re worried about not seeing them again? And why do you think you won’t make new friends?
PM: It’s hard enough to keep the friends that I have now. Everyone just wants to go out drinking and clubbing, but I hate that. Then everyone just wants to talk about sex all the time, and that’s disgusting. I’d much rather have someone to sit and read classical literature with – but that’s just not what people are like. Everyone else is so excited about staring uni and getting drunk in Fresher’s Week, but I know I am about to enter a long, lonely period of life. If I tell people I’m worried about losing touch, they just won’t care. People move on, that’s just life.
NM: You’re quite confident that you know about the way life will turn out, even though just a few years ago you were a literal child. Why are you so sure you know how things will turn out when your experience of the world is so limited?
PM: I know myself. I see everyone else going out into groups and joking around – but when I’m in a group I’m just too anxious to say anything or know when to talk. Other people who feel anxious just drink alcohol to get over, but I hate drinking. I never want to do it and just wish everyone else could hang out in quieter, more casual ways like they used to.
NM: Well, let me tell you something that will surprise you. You’re so keen to hold onto a time that I, with the advantage of time, look back on as a very unhappy era. There were good things for sure, like visiting Rory at his house most days, and still having the familiar structure of the school you’ve been in for years, but your life is about to get a lot better.
PM: I find that very hard to believe.
NM: When I think about being you, I wonder how I coped when I had a life that didn’t have Sarah, Edward, Eilidh, Malena, Emilie, Chloe, Lydia, Amy, Jess, Lily or any of the other people who are now the cornerstones of my heart.
PM: So you just replaced all of the friends you had with new ones? I don’t think I want to do that. It feels cold.
NM: Not at all. You still see Rory a lot and have had loads of wonderful times with him in the future. You had dinner with George just a few weeks ago. Davey’s married now and you have dinner with him and his wife Laura quite often and it’s always a lovely time. You travelled across the world with Ben to see Egan for his wedding and had an incredible time with them both.
PM: Wow. I guess I always thought people would move on because I don’t have that much to offer.
NM: You even still see that old rascal Dalfino from time to time.
PM: Oh, gosh.
NM: Admittedly, you don’t stay in touch with everyone that matters to you right now, but honestly, the reason you drift away with some people is because you have convinced yourself that that will happen. Then you look for clues that confirm your idea that they don’t care to keep in touch and end up not really keeping in touch yourself.
PM: That feels naïve. How do you know they didn’t really want to?
NM: I am amused by the fact that you’re calling a version of yourself who’s got 15 years more life experience naïve. But maybe you’re right. Maybe some of the people you know now didn’t want to keep in touch. If not, that’s okay. Your school friends are just people you’re thrown together with, and sometimes you’re only really friends because you’re forced together. These things don’t need to last forever.
PM: I get it, but it doesn’t really help fill me with confidence for making new frieds.
NM: Well, let me tell you: in a few months time you will meet someone called Tulin. That’s not their real name, I’m not allowed to say their real name, but their friendship changes you for the best. They’re very kind and affectionate, they’re always complimentary and see the qualities in you that you don’t see in yourself. Not only do they fill you with confidence, but they set a new standard of what love looks like in your life, which you then use when making new friends later on, and retroactively apply to the friends you’ve known for all these years. It’s not an exaggeration to say that you’re sitting on the cusp of being the person you are supposed to become.
PM: Well, who am I supposed to become? I have carefully thought out rules about how I treat other people and don’t know how I could interact with people differently.
NM: Let me ask you some questions. First, are you an affectionate person?
PM: No. My friends mean a great deal to me, but I show that by making time for them.
NM: By the time you’re me, you make a habit of telling your very best friends that you love them, and of describing them as your very best friends to their face. Who do you feel about physical contact?
PM: I hate it. I avoid even the slightest touch in all contexts.
NM: By the time you’re me, you love it when people hug you. You’ve slept in a bed with a friend you were holding onto. You’ve held hands with a few friends. Touch definitely becomes one of your love languages. And how do you feel about your body?
PM: It’s disgusting. I don’t eat a lot of food so I can stay slender. I avoid being naked at all costs, I’m practically a never nude. I wish everyone else was too, because the human body in all its forms is utterly repulsive.
NM: Well, you have no hang ups at all by the time you’re me. You’re so nonchalant about other people’s bodies that you don’t even feel uncomfortable having your friends pose for nude you to draw them, which both male and female friends have done.
PM: I don’t think I am comfortable with that.
NM: Don’t worry, you will be, because I was. There’s just one thing I envy about you.
PM: Bit insulting that it’s just one, but what is it?
NM: Practically all of the happiest moments of my life happen in your future. You haven’t even met most of the people you’ll love most of all in the whole world. You’ve got Tulin to meet in a few months time, then university brings David, Oscar, Chloe and Eilidh into your life too – the latter of whom you end up living with for over seven years (and you have some amazing times together).
11 years from now, you meet someone named Malena, and then form a really strong connection with her when you leave the country for the first time and go to Portugal. It’s a unique friendship in that you’re on completely the same wavelength in way that you’ve never had before with anyone else, so you understand one another on a deep level (you also spend loads of time just joking around together).
4 years from now, a year after university ends, you meet a woman named Sarah that you become best pals with when working under the same awful boss. You spend so much time laughing and joking around together, go on to become good friends with her partner Edward, and even get to know her young on Rowan. You mark ten years of friendship with a matching tattoo and you feel a beautiful familial connection with them all.
That same year, a woman named Lydia gets in touch with you after seeing this blog and asks if you want to meet up. You meet and then, although you don’t see each other for four years immediately after, you end up becoming the best of friends – you’ll spend many a summer’s evening chatting with her about life, writing, and more in the pubs of Bristol. She’ll then eventually invite you on a girls’ holiday (don’t worry, you count as a girl by then) in Pembrokeshire where you’ll meet and instantly hit it off with a woman named Emilie, and guess what? She’s someone you can quietly sit and discuss classical literature with. She’s also a genius therapist who helps expand your knowledge of how the human mind works.
By the time you’re me, so many people will have touched your heart that you’ll feel guilty about the idea of writing a blog post without mentioning all of them at length, even if that’s not practical by any means. There’s Kat who’s not only deeply kind and loving, but always makes such efforts to be present and supportive of you in every way. Jess, an out-spoken, salt-of-the-Earth sort of person that you have all kinds of interesting conversations about politics and the world with. Amy, who’s sarcasm is hilarious and doesn’t hide that she’s actually a very thoughtful and considerate person (even if she thinks it does) – and Lily, who does exactly the same. She even texts you to make fun of you when people cancel going to your events (you wouldn’t have been able to handle that yet), but she has a heart of gold. Oh and your internet friend Mairi, who you’re going to meet in person for the first time in a couple of months; she’s someone you still visit and have lovely days out with – usually at just the time you need them the most. Also, no way you and Max could have spent the night pretending to be a couple to keep strippers away from you (don’t ask). I could go on.
PM: Well, I am pleased I don’t lose my speech-making skills.
NM: Yes, well, you never lose your arrogant streak.
PM: I’m not arrogant.
NM: I just wish you could know that all this was ahead of you. You’re so lonely and insecure and you don’t even know it, going off into the world and thinking you’re alone and will always be alone, when the years ahead contain more love than you could ever imagine.
Obviously, Past Me, you’re really just Now Me doing a little bit of silly role play – but you know what? This has been a comforting experience. You were facing a lot of uncertainty about yourself and your future. To be honest, I am too. But I like to imagine Future Me is looking back, 15 years from now, and thinking fondly of all the good times and dear friends that I have ahead of me.
