It’s GCSE season again and faster than you can pop the lid off a highlighter, I feel like I should be checking who won the Civil War and reciting all the noble gases. So my old heart breaks for the teenagers currently trying to squish a million verb endings and quadratic equations into their brains. I remember that sweaty panic only too well.
In fact, I wish someone had taken my younger self to one side and explained some basic truths about exams and what they actually mean. Actually, I might do it now (better late than never). Here’s the letter I want my 15-year-old self to read:
Dear GCS-Me,
First, please don’t worry about your future: you’re going to keep (the majority of) your hair, you’re going to be on TV and one day you’ll be eating an A-lister’s birthday cake.
Second, you’re going to do fine in your GCSEs, but they don’t matter anywhere near as much as you believe right now. Because what’s important, mini Rob, is that you enjoy the stuff you’re learning. Study what you love whenever you can — it’s the centre of a happy life.
Third, of course you should try your hardest, but not one of these exams matters as much as finding a community that delights in you and your successes — so go find your people. It’ll take a lifetime, but it’ll be worth it. One good friend is worth a warehouse of the shiniest stars. None of the amazing friends you’ll meet — from politicians to musicians, actors to writers — will give a fig about exam results.
Fourth, there’s no such thing as a permanent record. In fact, nothing much turns out to be permanent (apart from our love for Lizzo and pickled herring… and Edward Gann from school).
Fifth, being unsure about “what you want to do” or “who you want to be” at 15 is precisely where you should be. Uncertainty is a strength, not a weakness.
Sixth, release yourself of the pressure of external voices — what matters is your voice and how you choose to use it. Don’t let others “should” you into ambitions that aren’t yours. Once you know these things, the possibilities become endless. The world fills up with the sparkliest kind of joy and I think you’ll be surprised how rarely anyone asks you who invented the gas turbine or where the hypotenuse is.
All my love,
Grown-Up Rob.
P.S. You might also want to re-think that middle parting, it’s doing nothing for you.
P.P.S. When — in your early forties — you meet a pop-star called Harry Styles (if you’re 15 when you’re reading this, he’s not been born yet), please try not to be quite so embarrassing.
In other news...
I can never seem to decide which royal I love most (other than the Queen, obvs). Sometimes it’s Anne, sometimes Camilla, often it’s glorious Kate. I guess I’m just a bit of a princess fanboy… Who knew?
But this time, I’ve definitely found my absolute 100 per cent lifetime top pick. I was in Guernsey last week for the 77th anniversary celebration of their liberation from the Nazis. There were so many moving and wonderful events and, to cap it all off, Specsavers organised a magnificent Forties tea dance for the people of the island.
The Earl and Countess of Wessex were there and, by prior agreement, Sophie and I were going to do a foxtrot. Due to unforeseen circumstances, we ended up taking the floor during the Charleston, left, and she was utterly magnificent. Unquestionably the finest partner I’ve had since Oksana. So I’ve found my new fave. Sophie’s got what you want from your royals: she’s kind, thoughtful and always prepared for an unrehearsed showdance.
