I've filled in and returned my census form. As I ticked my boxes and enumerated my life for the benefit of current planners and future historians I thought about the last four times I've been in the census.

2011: I'm now living in Oxford in a rented two bed flat. I still have three children (who are now much older in a way I cannot quite believe) and who remain the centre of my life. I'm divorced and, mostly, get on well with my ex-wife. I see my children every week, and have them overnight an average of 2 nights a week - this is less than I would like but also a realistic reflection of my workaholic nature and the fact that I'm not the primary carer. The law of averages means that they aren't on this census return as they were with their mum. I have a wonderful girlfriend, with whom I'm very happy, and who I do not see enough of. I have run a mental health charity (Restore) for the last eight years. Restore works to enable people to recover. It's a great job and the charity has been very successful. I am, in general, happier and more satisfied, than I have been at any previous point in my life.

2001: I was married and living in Oxford in a three bed semi detached flat. I had three children - a four year old and two one year olds. I was working in London with Sense as Head of Campaigns and Policy. The commute wasn't nice but the job was lovely. An exciting time to be involved with an organisation that made a difference and cared about people. I'm still involved with Sense in a small way. The combination of multiple small children and a long commute explains why I soon moved to a job in Oxford.

1991: I was In the second year of a psychology degree at Birmingham University. I was living in Edgbaston in a big shared house. At the time I was struggling to reconcile a growing scepticism about religion with my family background. I was involved in protests against the first Gulf War and was becoming, probably very tediously in hindsight, politically aware. I lived in Birmingham for nearly ten years and the city was my first adult home. I loved the smell of choclate in the mornings.

1981: At school on a bleak and windswept Lancashire coast. I was at boarding school at Rossall, at the time an old fashioned school with a belief in the redeeming power of sport and cold showers. I remember the echoing attic dormitory of Fayles and the bitter cold of hockey on the beach. I've not been back since I left at the end of the eighties and doubt I ever will. It has left its mark on me in several ways - a belief in the value of public service, a lifelong dislike of bullying, and the damage peculiar to many people who attended public schools.

1971: I was one year old and living in Bakewell where my father was a curate. My memories of this period are spotty (and may well be completely made up). I do remember seeing the knife grinder come round on his bike and I remember climbing over the very tall wall into the churchyard. Further visits have revealed that the whole town appears to have shrunk.