I've been enaging in ridiculous poitive self-improving activities to get me through the most depressing month of the year. My general state of Eyore-ness was not helped by the fact that I had a very nasty shock watching TV at 3 in the morning (even BBC news 24 combined with sleeping pills is not enought to send me to sleep). There was a cheesy report from Iraq with interviews with some Brit soldiers. One of them was the SON of the man I lost my virginity to - he was a toddler at the time (the son, not the father) but must be 24/25 now and has joined his father's (and grandfather's etc etc etc) regiment. He looks and sounds very like his father who died back in '89. Deeply disturbing. I was tempted to write to him and even started drafting a letter. I abandoned the plan when I discovered there was no way of saying "hello I was the teenage (just) nymphette your father nearly got court-martialled over, and your mother divorced him over, but I have some very happy memories of him and some theories you may find interesting about the circumstances of his death and I just want to tell you that he was not the bastard you probably think he is, well he was, but not in the way you think he was, but in a much more interesting way," without sounding like a total fucking lunatic.
I'm sure you're not meant to feel this much nostalgia at 35? His father, Robert, was amazing - I was way out my depth at the time but I so wish I knew him now. Now I would be a match for him and no mistake.
I guess that's part of the deal with the self-improvement plan, I want to shake off the feeling that the best is behind me.
I have to go and seek out Frankenstein...