There’s a phrase I’ve passed to my youngest daughter, quietly but consistently, over the years. It goes like this: learn lots, be good, and have fun. A simple thing. Almost too simple. But sometimes the smallest seeds grow the deepest roots.

The older I get—and maybe that’s amplified by being a transgender in my fifties—the more I find myself leaning into those words like a walking stick. They carry me through the fog. Because let’s be honest: I haven’t got it all figured out. Not even close. I live in a space between the lines—gender lines, social roles, expectations. I’m not a box-ticker. I’m a work in progress. But maybe that’s the point.

To be transgender, especially later in life, is to carry a paradox. You hold your past and your future in the same hand. You build a life while often dismantling pieces of it. And yet, you move forward—not because you’ve cracked some secret code, but because you’ve found something worth moving toward: a more truthful version of yourself.

That’s the heart of it. Truth. Not in the sense of absolute answers, but in the commitment to live honestly. To own your joy. Your struggle. Your screw-ups. Your softness. The world offers so many masks; I spent years wearing ones that didn’t fit. Now, I’m trying to walk barefaced, even if the wind stings a little more.

“Learn lots.” That doesn’t mean gathering facts like hoarders collect junk. It means staying open. Asking why. Letting people surprise you. Listening more than speaking. Changing your mind. Unlearning. Relearning. Staying curious about yourself and others, even when it’s uncomfortable.

“Be good.” Not in a performative way. Not good as in obedience. Good as in kind. As in generous. As in taking responsibility for the energy you bring into the room. As in being willing to say, “I was wrong,” or, “Let me help.” It means showing up. It means rubbing someone’s aching back, even when your own hands are stiff. It means choosing love, even when you’re tired.

And then, “have fun.” That’s the one people forget. Especially in the heaviness of life—the bills, the news, the aches and diagnoses, the decisions that feel like cliffs. But fun matters. Laughter matters. The kind that comes when you’ve got nothing fancy, just a silly moment in the kitchen or a daft joke that hits right. That’s joy. It’s not an add-on. It’s part of the fuel.

So no, I don’t have a grand plan. I’m not here to sell a ten-step path to self-fulfilment. I’ve got spreadsheets, sure, and I can model out a mortgage blindfolded. But in real life? Real love? That’s messier. That’s about showing up each day with your imperfect self and saying: I’m here. I’ll try. Let’s build something that holds us both.

Maybe that’s all we’re meant to do. Learn lots. Be good. Have fun. Repeat.

It’s not a master plan. It’s better. It’s real.

P.S. So then Bobs nothing has changed from you being 5 on your first day at school, to now with a degree almost in your pocket. There is only one way, and one thing to say – Learn lots, be good and have fun – always!