26/07/2026
I was scrolling through old TikToks the other night. Trips we’d taken, days out, clips of Archie when he was small. He’s just finished his first year at the comp now, and there he was on my screen, years younger, halfway up some hill, blissfully unaware of timetables and homework.
And I felt that familiar ache. The one people call nostalgia. But sitting there, I realised it wasn’t really about a better time at all. The good old days had their outside toilets and their freezing bedrooms and their smoke drifting over from the next table. They weren’t easy. What I was actually grieving was being younger, freer, with more of life still ahead of me.
We call them the good old days. They weren’t. They were just our days.
Check out my new blog about nostalgia, grief, and why an app that hands you your own past unprompted isn’t quite as harmless as it looks.
We call them the good old days, but they weren't. They were just our days. A counsellor on nostalgia, grief, and why an algorithm keeps handing us our past.