Jackie Jarvis writes

“It becomes increasingly easy, as you get older, to drown in nostalgia.” Ted Koppel

The older I grow the more nostalgic I become.

As I speed at a rate of knots towards my dotage I find myself reminiscing more and more about the good old days; past times when life seemed simpler, less frantic. A time when we journeyed at a slower pace and truly had time to stand and stare.

Fast forward a good few decades and, thanks to the ever-changing advancements in technology, our lives, in theory, should be a breeze. After all, everything we could ever want or need is a quick click away.

None of us can escape this all-consuming digital age. We have no choice but to surrender to it or get left behind. But it doesn’t necessarily follow that we have to like it.

There is no doubt computers do bring untold benefits to modern day living. I sometimes wonder how we ever managed to survive without them. But, they are merely machines. They malfunction. And when they crash so can our lives.

How many of us keep address books these days? Those vital contacts listed on an all-singing, all-dancing iphone are so wonderfully convenient until there’s an almighty system failure and they’re wiped from the memory forever. That trusty little black book, innocuously residing on the telephone table at home, is guaranteed to never let you down.

Gone are the days when our little ones would be content with playing outdoors, armed with just a skipping rope and a pocket full of conkers. Nowadays, if these most demanding of consumers are not surgically attached 24/7 to some expensive electronic gadget they feel at a loss as to what to do with themselves.

And whatever happened to the peace and quiet of Sundays; the traditional day of rest when we all took time out to recharge our batteries? Visit any retail centre on this most holy of days and you are sure to be greeted by the world and his wife involved in an almighty scrum as they shop around the clock.

Here are just some of the things I’ve discovered we no longer do:

• Telephone the cinema to find out what time the flick is on.

• Pop into the travel agent to research a holiday.

• Dial directory inquiries.

• Put a classified advert in the shop window.

• Ring the speaking clock.

• Send handwritten letters.

• Pay bills at the post office.

• Look up words in the dictionary.

• Make photo albums.

• Watch TV programmes at the time they are shown.

I am sure many of you bright young things out there in Review land possess all the right equipment so as not to have to do any of the above. But, being

old enough to be Methuselah’s mother and stubbornly content to continue conducting certain areas of my life in the dark ages, I have to admit that I still do them. And I am particularly proud of the fact that I am unable and, may I add, unwilling to learn how to text. This lady’s not for turning.