I remember being told somewhere in my youth that our body completely replenishes all its cells every seven years or so. I don't know about that. I'm pretty sure it's rubbish. But it is convenient, on this date, to divide life into seven-year cells.

1964. Upper Hutt. Hmmm.

1971. Northland. On the beach. Not much else to say.

1978. Auckland. Fourth form. A small dog called Pazzo. Moving a lot.

1985. The time since 1978 seemed like forever then. Doesn't seem so far now. 21st at my new girlfriend's house in Grey Lynn. Studying politics.

1992. Small flat in Herne Bay. Married. Working on radio. A cat called Ella.

1999. Wellington. Divorced. Hurtling towards government and a new family. Dog called Moe.

2006. Paris. Remarried, three kids.

What can I learn from this? Everything changes in seven years. Everything. Time is shorter in the rear view mirror than in the windscreen.