I think that the ideal school reunion would be one in which all the nerdy students, the ones outside the circle of popularity, show up ten or twenty years later as highly successful members of society, leading exciting and glamorous lives. And the once-popular students can't make it because they're in prison for some spectacularly pathetic crime.
Last night I went to a reunion of a class of '77; the last time I saw any of these people, we were (mostly) innocent, fresh-faced 13-year-olds. In hindsight, I really should have done a bit of swatting beforehand because, of the 16 people there, I could only identify 4 or 5.
Everybody knew who I was right away. It probably helped that I was the only Chinese in our class. On the other hand, I couldn't remember M. who was the only Samoan. I still don't remember him. And two people I strained to recognise turned out to be complete strangers after all (spouses of my former classmates).
The boy I'd had a crush on went on to become an artist and movie scene-maker; the most popular girl in the class - because she had boobs - went on to become a truck-driver; the class bad-boy ended up in and out of prison; and our long-haired activist teacher became a politician. And, as usual, people said I look exactly the same as I did back then.
As everyone around me the recalled amusing anecdotes about the good old days, I started to wish I hadn't been such a goody-two-shoes. I also wished I'd had a better memory. To be honest, these people had ceased to exist for me after our last day of term. So I was amazed that anyone could still remember the class bad-boy throwing a desk at our teacher (then a bit of a hippie, now a politician), who the class clowns were and who spent lunchtimes snogging on the class couch.
I also wished that this reunion had taken place about ten years ago, when I was full of exciting travel stories and living a much more interesting life. Because 30 years ago I was living a damned quiet life. And here I am, back where I was then.