100 years on and I’m happy to cook his dinner. I’m also very happy he does the bins. I have my jobs, he has his.

However, I’m not happy about Lady Doritos, female oppression or that the average age for a young boy to watch hard-core pornography is 11 years. Or the fact that in any place I ever worked there were at least half a dozen men who would say what I’d just said in a meeting and be taken seriously for it.

I hate that the BBC – a publicly funded institution – pays its women less than its men.

I like that we have a queen on the throne, and not that chuffed the next three monarchs will be men. I like that we have a female prime minister, and female Scottish and N.I. first ministers. I hate that Hillary didn’t get the job, not for her politics, but because there will have been at least some who didn’t vote for her ‘because she was a woman’.

Being male, female, white, non-white, disabled, able-bodied, L, G, B, T or Q, short, tall, fat or thin are all red herrings when it comes to judging what someone is like, what they are capable of. The core of a person is what matters, the tough immovable centre that’s in us all; but it takes time to listen, skill to ask the right questions, and the opportunity to look someone in the eye and connect.

The biggest difference in the next 100 years will be the way humans interact with each other and with growing distance and greater speed comes separation and misunderstanding. Take a moment to relate to someone else, and share something about you they didn’t know.

Small actions, big victories.