Visiting my hometown after having lived away for so long brought back memories of a different time and person. It also left me wondering whether my hometown has got rougher – an overwhelmingly large percentage of the population seemed to be either drunk, on drugs and/or obese – or whether I’m just getting old.

Some other friends are wondering the same. A few now live in small commuter towns such as Burgess Hill (aka Beverley Hills) and Haywards Heath (aka Gaywards Grief) – places they wouldn’t have dreamed of living in during their 20s.

Following visits to his parents, another friend mocks the ‘marvellous urban environment and triumph of modernism’ of his post-war hometown in a witty blog. His image postings include ugly ‘70s buildings, a town square Christmas tree erected in September and numerous OAPs heading in different directions on electric scooters.

Monique and I were left feeling rather underdressed while dining in a restaurant close to Victoria station on a recent Saturday evening. It was clearly Croydon Crowd first date territory. One date started with awkward pauses while dessert was followed by an even more awkward drunken snog; another date started with a snog and ended with a stumble out of the restaurant door. A woman asked if I had a spare tampon when I visited the ladies’; Monique was met with a request for a condom during her visit.

Having made sweeping generalisations while ridiculing our fellow diners, I turned earnestly to Monique, ‘Perhaps we’ve become awful conservative bores?’
‘And I thought I was a socialist; at least a Champagne one,’ Monique smiled.