I’ve had more than a few messages from strangers on the dreaded Facebook, asking if I’m the Dickon who:
(a) went to the National Youth Theatre in 1991,
or (b) went to Cambridge University and appeared in many stage productions at the ADC Theatre there,
or (c) worked at Euro Disney.
Answers: (a) No. (b) No. (c) No.
So I’ve decided to make things far less confusing for Facebook users.
I’m going to round up all the other Dickons and have them shot.
Only joking, other Dickons.
Thing is, I’m not keen to be tracked down by people from my own past, let alone those from the past of strangers who happen to share my first name. I’m still working on making sense of my present. When I’m happy with that, I’ll be able to properly approach my past.
Until then, such point-scoring school reunions can only go like this:
Them: Dickon! The Dickster! Long time no hear from. Well, then. I’ve got fifteen kids, seven houses, a yachting business in Diss and my own private elephant. And you?
Dickon: Taxi!
