I was on a bus heading to Woolwich earlier when a group of teenagers also got on. I would guess they were fifteen or sixteen, and were all wearing student lanyards. Of course they started chatting to one another, but I was struck by how bold and brash they sounded: they spoke as if they knew everything, and were fully grown, worldly-wise, mature adults. I was then highly amused by the thought that they would only have been five or six – barely more than infants – when London hosted the Olympics, or when Monty Python performed their last shows. I was then even more amused to think that, in all likelihood, I could show them the blog entry I wrote the day each of them were born. Perhaps they wouldn’t sound so headstrong and cocky then!

And then I suddenly began to feel very, very old.