I was sitting on a bench outside Holy Trinity Church whilst waiting for something else to happen and my twelve year old self sat down next to me for a chat. This happens from time to time.
The train of thought had begun a few hours earlier when a candidate just back from a Bishop's selection conference for the ministry had been chatting to me about the constant stream of texts from home which had arrived while she was there. Encouraging and yet also, in a strange way, distracting.
I went to my Selection Conference at the same place as her in 1979. I queued at the telephone kiosk for a once-a-night call home.
My twelve year old self is interested that I appear to be making words appear on a screen. I explain that I am updating a web-site using a Nokia x6 mobile phone. Then I have to explain what a mobile phone is, what a web-site is, who Nokia are and, because I was quite dumb aged twelve, what updating means.
Can you believe how much we have done since 1967? My twelve year old self would have no idea what half the things on my desk today do. As inaccessible as the uses of his grandfather's woodworking tools, which were from a previous century and sat on a work bench in neat order.
A moment's pause for thought to remember to stop taking things for granted.