Writing to myself has got me wondering exactly what I would think of me, if I could have seen my life in the future. Would I be impressed by the technology which now surrounds me; the 80GB iPod replacing the shelf of worn cassettes, the wireless laptop affording an endless supply of information and entertainment? Would the Clinique skincare and TIGI hair products seem a thousand miles away, something I would never have dreamed achieving back when I was covering my hair in 50p blue chemical-smelling gel and washing my face with Dove soap?
Would I marvel at the widescreen television in my bedroom with 80+ channels, the DVD player, the Remington hair straighteners? The masses of books spilling from every available surface and the hundreds of CDs?
Would I be scandalised by my 40-a-day cigarette habit? The phone numbers on my mobile which allow me access to drugs? The £30 weed grinder with bevelled teeth and a dust-catcher? Would I find my ability to roll a perfect joint alluring?
And what of the sex; would I believe that I would be sexually active? Not only that, but downright experienced? Would I believe that I would one day be somebody’s mistress, that I would sleep with a much older man just for revenge, that I would experiment with both sexes and S&M, and discover I liked both?
As for romance and love, would I ever imagine that I would feel so utterly adored by a man with curly hair and artist’s hands? That I would spend hours talking about everything and nothing with him, cooking for him, laughing at in-jokes and finding his perfect pronunciation and handwriting more attractive than anything I’d ever experienced before?
That I would love someone so totally, without jealousy or resentment?
Would I believe any of this?