In a few weeks time I will be attending a re-union of the 1971/72 journalism class at Harlow Technical College.
The reunion will take place at a pub called The Hare in Harlow which is one of those we frequented as callow youths and youthettes back in the day.
The re-union will celebrate or bemoan, depending on how you look at it, 50 years since we were at college all bright eyed and bushy tailed (well some were) and thrusting ourselves towards a future of writing and work.
I should imagine the vast majority of the brigade are now retired, although some will still be working. We all went our separate ways, some into pr, some into writing books, some into magazines, some into radio and television and many into the print media.
I am expecting a good uptake for the reunion which rather suggests that many of us got on well. I remember my nine months at college with great fondness and I have probably mentioned this before.
It is quite obvious by speaking and being in contact with a few of our number that we have changed quite a bit.
Take David for example (not his real name). He used to bore everyone by going on and on about Pink Floyd. He would insist on reading out all the sleeve notes, although nobody listened to what he was saying. When I pointed this out in an e-mail he was quick to respond.
"I was a bit of a prat in those days," he said.
Then take Phil (again not his real name). He was a hell's angel and self confessed football hooligan. I reminded him of this and he told me he was now living a rural and peaceful existence having eschewed any thought of violence many many years ago.
It made me think about how people change on their journey through life. I wonder what that 18 year old would think if he knew how all his beliefs in violence would be destroyed as he moved along life's path.
Those thoughts took me back to the photograph I took a few weeks ago in Great Yarmouth of young men being minded by local police and probably looking for trouble. Most of them are probably grandfathers now, trying to stop their own youngsters going down the same road.
It reminded me of a day at Yarmouth a few years ago when we took the grandchildren to play on the beach. There was suddenly a huge noise as a large group of bikers revved into a car park. Many years before that would have caused consternation but on this occasion they were just there to meet up with other ancient bikers and let those around admire their bikes. Oh how the world has changed in some respects - sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse and I'm sure that's a theme I will return to time and time again in these blogs.