Well, I did wake up in 1965. It happened 365 times. I was 12 years old mostly. I got forced to have a haircut which compromised my attempts to grow a Beatle hairstyle (mother's fault). Saw a newspaper in the barbers shop saying Malcolm X had been shot. Didn't know who he was. Floundering in most subjects at school, but OK with English. Poor progress with Latin. I was dragged along to see The Sound Of Music which I didn't much enjoy. I watched Doctor Who (first screening of the William Hartnell stories) and season 4 of Steptoe And Son on TV. I read a sci-fi comic called TV 21. Saw London for the first time. My parents took me to Rome by train and ferry for the summer holiday (first time I left England, and last time until 1979). A teenager called Carlo had a record player and a stack of Beatles' singles. Once I'd played with that I was obsessed with getting one, but that didn't happen till late in the year. First records were "I Feel Fine," "Day Tripper," and "Tired of Waiting For You." The sound quality was much better than the poxy tape recorder my sister owned but at least we managed to bootleg a borrowed copy of Rubber Soul with that.
If I could go back, I don't think there's was anything much I could or would do any different. I guess I'd at least know my rotten school performance was ASD not brain damage like I thought at the time. There'd still be no help for it, but I'd know things would get a lot better so I'd be less worried. And I hope I'd be glad to get all those years of life back to have another shot at.