A curate's egg of a day.

One fabulous morning meeting my bank manager who I went to school with. I dug out some old sixth form photos. Why do memories get so much sweeter as we age? Why was I happy to tell him that he looked great when I  wouldn't have done that in sixth form? Why did I keep telling him I was so excited to meet him again? Why when I would have walked past him on the street, did I know it was him immediately?
I have a funny old brain.
Maybe he has one too.