Sue Bailey

There ought to be a name for people who obsessively follow Stephen Fry’s every word, middle-aged, middle-class, middle-weight women transforming from fag hags into real hags while watching reruns of QI… oh, that’s just “me”. So yes, I wept at Sir Stephen’s letter to his 16 year old self, and predictably foresaw that there would be a rash of other letters written to 16 year old selves. And inevitably, I began to plan my own…

It’s massively tempting to send back instructions to try to change the course of one’s life: but I think the temptation ought to be avoided. For one thing, it assumes that the older self is so much wiser than the younger, and I’m not sure that’s the case. Older minds are easily convinced that experience and cynicism outweigh joy and hope, and that makes for a sadder, duller world. So I won’t tell her to go to St. Andrew’s not Cambridge (even though I think she should have); I’ll just give her some more tools, because:

1. 16 feels invincible. You’re right. It is. The next two years of your life are the best two ever. Don’t let it all drift downhill after that: figure out what’s so amazing, and do more of it.
2. In a couple of months, your parents are making you move to Manchester and you’re protesting about it. You’re right to protest, because you’re practically an adult and your wishes are not being consulted, but bear in mind that this move will be the best thing that ever happened to you. Negotiate things in your favour: I don’t think you actually did badly, but still, do more. The world is tilting in your favour. And remember, new town means easier church avoidance.
3. This move, and the way it leaves behind the whole of your childhood, means you can reinvent yourself. It’s both inevitable and right that you should do this, but don’t reinvent yourself into a chameleon. You don’t need to be so desperate to fit in. You *don’t* fit in, and that’s what’s cool about you.
4. In a few months, you’re going to meet two women who will change your life. One is a crazy, chain-smoking, pissed-off history teacher. The other is the woman with the most perfect breasts you’ll ever get your sweaty hands on. Yes, you heard me right. Treat both of them better than you did.
5. Look, don’t start smoking for real. It’s idiotic and it stinks. Why are you trying so hard to do something so horrible?
6. Your depression is a disease. It’s not who you are. It can be dealt with. Go ask for drugs. Keep asking for them til you get them. And also, ask for therapy. I’ve seen you, cutting and stubbing ciggies out on your arms. This will only get worse. Go and ask for help now (the scars will help you get it).
7. Forgetting to eat is still an eating disorder. Get help. If you don’t, you’ll screw your metabolism forever.
8. Would it kill you to go out in the sunshine now and again? Your Gothy white foundation will cover over any potential tan, but if you’d leave the library, the pub and your room now and again, you’d feel a whole lot better. Believe me.
9. Stop being so scared to ask for stuff you want. For example (and this is going to be the only specific thing I tell you to do), tell your Latin teacher you want to do A’level Latin in your upper 6th year. You can manage it; so can he. And it will make your university choices so much better. While you’re at it, get him to teach you some Greek. It’s not all about acting out the Aeneid funeral games with paper boats.
10. Somewhere there’s a political group for you. So Michael Meacher‘s constituency party isn’t the one: look further! That energy you used to put into religion has to go somewhere, and you’re not a preacher’s daughter for nothing: stop stifling that evangelical impulse.
11. Your father is trying to be your friend. You won’t notice; I think he was far too late, but I merely present the information for your perusal.
12. Actually, dump your parents. You’ll need to decide on the form this dumpage might take, but trying to have their goodwill *and* live the life you choose to live isn’t possible. Prepare for the thought that you might go to university and never come back: it could be a good move for you. And incidentally, that letter your mother sends you the day before your second year uni exams start? Burn it unread. Better still, mark it deceased and send it back.
13. Find a way to exist that doesn’t need other people’s approval. Get some self-confidence. You don’t believe in a god who’s just waiting to send you to hell, so stop acting like you do.
14. Stop being so secretive. Wear your heart on your sleeve, even if you think it’ll make you look silly. It’ll stand you in good stead for this thing called blogging you’re going to do a lot of one day. You’ll see
15. You’ll be tempted to make rash decisions because you’re afraid of being unwanted. Try not to. Better still, get over your fear of being alone, lest you come to a time where alone is all you want to be but you can’t be it. Goodness knows why, you self-centered little snob, but people do sometimes like you.
16. Computers are way cooler than you think they are.

Tags: Stephen Fry

This entry was posted on Wednesday, May 6th, 2009 at 2:07 am and is filed under self-indulgent.