One of the things I used to tell my students when they asked me how old I was, is that I am older than Google. I’m only 44 years old, but that is a testament to the pace of change even in just my lifetime.

And I think that this is something quite profound for many. Lately, my social media feeds have been full of people of my generation and older, reminiscing about how things were ‘back in the day.’ In the silly age-bracket labels that people are placed into nowadays, I am an older millennial (born 1981–1996). I was born in the early 80s and grew up in the nineties, and there seems to be a collective sense of nostalgia and a longing between Millennials and Gen X (born 1965–1980) for how simple life felt back then. 

I grew up in a small but beautiful town in the north of England, the kind of place where some of the streets were still cobbled and everyone knew each other. Yes, there were slighter rough areas, but it always felt generally safe – not to the point where doors were left unlocked as such, but in all the years that I lived there, I don’t remember any horrendously serious crimes happening within my immediate community.

And not to sound too much like an Enid Blyton book, but I was incredibly fortunate. During the summer we would disappear on our bikes with friends and reappear hours later. We spent whole days wandering the hills, walking for miles without much of a plan, talking nonsense and just existing. There were no mobile phones, no internet and no expectation to document any of it. If you wanted to find someone, you knocked on their door and asked them if they wanted to come outside. 

One of the things I find myself thinking about more frequently is just how much change Gen X, Millennials and the older generations have lived through. We grew up with analogue childhoods and digital adulthoods, witnessing the arrival of home computers, the birth of the internet and then the rapid rise of social media (Facebook appeared in 2005 – by that point I had already graduated and was working full-time in a secondary school). We watched phones go from rotary landlines to cordless, to portable mobile phones that were the size of a small brick (shoutout to the Nokia 5110 – you could throw that thing anywhere and it wouldn’t even have a scratch on it) to smartphones that now sit permanently in our hands and watches on our wrists. Music was played on vinyl, then cassette, then CD and now we can access any song, anywhere at any time at the click of a button. Streaming has replaced video shops, DVDs, Blu-Rays and scheduled television. We don’t have to go to the local supermarket to do my weekly food shop if we can’t be bothered or are busy, and have it delivered at a scheduled time. We can video call with anyone, anywhere in the world, at any time. If I want a pizza, or a new book, or an overpriced Jellycat, I can tap my phone and have it delivered directly to me without having to leave the house. 

In more recent years, the development of AI has added another layer to that sense of rapid change. What once was seemingly merely a movie plot has quickly become part of everyday life, shaping how we work, communicate, and access information. Tools that write, analyse, create and automate tasks now exist alongside us, and are so sophisticated I am now starting to question the reality of every single video I watch on social media channels. It is evolving at such a pace that initially felt impressive, but now I find it rather unsettling. For a generation that has already watched so many technological shifts unfold, AI feels like another moment of adjustment, one that reinforces the feeling that the world keeps accelerating… whether we feel ready for it or not.

It is a strange position to be in, remembering life before all of it, while also being fully immersed in it now, and I think that contrast plays a big part in why nostalgia feels so strong for the older generations.

I am on the fence about how I feel about all of it. In some ways, things felt much more simple back then, but in practical terms, life is far more convenient and straightforward now. My job is managing social media, and this allows me to live a life I could have only dreamed of 20 years ago, and through the power of the online world, I have met people, seen places and experienced things that will stay with me forever. Many everyday work tasks take just minutes rather than hours, and information is always at hand.

But looking at the big picture, that simplicity has come at a cost. Much of how we live is about instant gratification: expectations are immediate, attention spans appear to be shorter as we are pulled in too many directions at once with information overload, and there is a constant sense of being reachable. And that has led to a culture of self-entitlement and quick-fix solutions to lessen the boredom. The strong feeling of local community I grew up with feels harder to find, and (in my opinion, at least) people aren’t as nice as they once were.

It is easier to live now, but not necessarily easier to be present, and that contradiction is something I am still trying to make sense of.