My mother used to say to me (I remember, in 1989, during the State of Origin football match, I went to bed and read a book and my mother said to me, "You're not interested in the football, are you?", and my response was, "No, Mom, I'm not.") that I should watch some of a football match that I had no interest in so I'd have something to talk to the kids about. What I wanted, more than anything else, was for the kids at school to leave me alone and let me have my own interests.

Sometimes, the stories of two kids can be like this, after school. Kid A was the epitome of cool. They wore designer clothes to school and played sports and everybody thought they were wonderful. When Kid A leaves school, nobody cares whether Kid A captained their school football team three years in a row and they won the trophy three years in a row. Kid B, on the other hand, wore thick glasses and played the piano, and had no sporting talent, yet after school, Kid B is playing to packed houses in Europe.

And sometimes, after school, some of the kids who crawled to the popular kids and treated the non-popular kids at school realize, "Oh, my God! I really treated that kid badly."

I had an experience whereby, last year, we were going to have a 30 Year School Reunion (COVID19 had other ideas) and a guy wrote in the Facebook Group that I had been the glue who brought the group together, and another said that I brought back memories that they'd forgotten. He said that he'd been in awe of some things I could do. I know that's cold comfort to a kid now, but adulthood gives you that luxury.