So, well I occasionally get to visit planet teenager. I am on planet adult or as inhabitants of planet teenager might call it planet different. It is sometimes known as planet retro for those fleeting moments that it becomes cool.

I am not cool in any way shape or form. My Dad dancing makes Ed Balls look like one of Strictly’s professionals. My taste in music does not envelope rap, and I still fondly remember the game Space Invaders which we played as a treat in the arcade and found that pretty exciting. I acknowledge that it is beyond boring when compared to some of the games played on the boy’s PS4 games console. The only similarity between those games and my schools days, is that like in the ‘A’ Team (compulsive on a Saturday evening with Mr T) no one ever dies.

When I was at school when the dinosaurs were still wandering past the cave (I think that is easier for my son to believe than a childhood with no mobile phones, no internet, queuing to use the public phone on Christmas Day, just 3 TV channels and a toilet in the porch) we could leave things by and large at school. The octopus like tentacles of social media had not yet evolved, although a number on our estate kept pigeons so messages were not altogether impossible, although slightly messier than messenger.

Yet just occasionally, slightly more frequently than a solar eclipse, our worlds do interact.

Both of us are appalled by the relentless bombing of Syria and our own abandonment of that land, with its most ancient of civilisations. Why? He asked. I did not have an answer that made sense.

And as quickly as we coalesce, we separate into our different worlds, being made slightly more whole by our coming together.