Into the melting pot

“What's on the menu?” asks Fiona, 45, my wife's youngest sister.

“Roast chicken,” replies my wife, 54.

“Farmers' market I hope?” Fiona enquires in a serious tone.

“Yes,” lies my wife.

“Good,” nods Fiona, putting some white wine into the freezer for a rapid chill. “I don't eat supermarket chicken.”

“I don't eat meat full-stop,” adds our son, Thomas, 24, fiddling with his topknot.

“Since when?” frowns Fiona, waiting impatiently beside the freezer.

Alice, 14, our niece, flops on to the sofa, thumbs nimbly tip-tapping her iPhone 14. My mother, 83, is hovering, observing – critically, no doubt, but silently. All the generations – from youthful Gen Z (ages 11 to 26) to the seen-it-all Silent Generation (ages 78 to 95) – are preparing to mingle.

“You'll eat what you're given,” advises my wife's father Pat, 76, peering over the flapping broadsheet pages of his Sunday Times.

“I'm vegan,” says Alice, eyes fixed on her screen.

“Just eat the vegetables then,” adds my mother.

“Agreed,“ Alice chuckles and makes a selection on her Just Eat food delivery app. “I'll… Just Eat... a vegan Pad Thai... it's on the way.”

As I insert a corkscrew into a bottle of 2016 Chianti, I smile at the easy way everyone is lapsing into their generational stereotypes. It's the natural order of things. A well-defined set of rules, like Shakespeare's seven ages of man. We are all growing older together – young and old – yet the gap remains the same. We are all destined to be different.

Social commentators love demographic labelling. The buzzwords become part of popular culture – the way we see ourselves and those around us. They are lazy but effective on a superficial level. Know someone's year of birth and you know their character, values and purchasing intentions. That's why marketing teams around the world use them to try to sell Fiats and Budweiser and gluten-free, organic cornflakes.

Baby Boomers (ages 59 to 77) were logically named as the offspring of a major demographic event. But subsequent labels have been inherited or invented. Even the length of each generation seems arbitrary. In fact, as the age difference between adults and children has lengthened, the number of years has dropped: 18, 19, 16, 16 and 16.

Today. It's almost as if we need an ABC of Generations X, Y and Z to explain which one we, or our children, are in… and… when the next one starts.

The phrase Generation X, for example, was first used in the 1950s by photographer Robert Capa as the title for a photo essay about the lives of young adults after the war. The phrase became the name of a 1970s punk band and, in 1991, Douglas Coupland summed up the post-boomer generation in his novel Generation X: Tales for an Accelerated Culture.

The phrase grew and grew until it had to be true. Don't worry about creating distorted stereotypes. Gen Xers – the so-called latch-key MTV generation – were slackers, cynical and disaffected. In 1990 Time magazine charged: “They crave entertainment, but their attention span is as short as one zap of a TV dial.” Their parents worked too hard; they played too many video games.

Yet now it seems almost the reverse is true. Gen X leaders are in charge of the governments of nearly half the OECD countries. The average age of entrepreneurs founding a company in the US is 40-plus (Duke University) and Gen Xers are the most skilled, with the strongest work ethic (Workfront, a project management software firm).

I look at the Gen Xers (ages 43 to 58) sitting at the table. Fiona is not a slacker, cynical or disaffected, although she does like those notorious kings of grunge Nirvana. She is a highly motivated computer whizz with a successful sideline in online retail. So is Pete, her Gen Xer husband, who also happens to be a dab-hand in the kitchen. Instead of slacking, he once tried out to be a contestant on MasterChef.

‛What's that strange stuff on the broccoli?” frowns Granddad Pat.

“I put some tahini and chilli over them,” says Pete.

“It's amazing,” says Fiona.

Even Tom nods with approval.

But then the conversation turns to holidays and takes a turn for the worse. Or the better, presumably, depending on your generational view.

“We're flying to Australia next year,” announces my wife.

“The plan is to destroy the planet,” counters Tom.

“So, you're not coming then?”

“No... and I'm also not eating chicken.”

“More for me then!” says granddad.

“It's our future you Baby Boomers and oldies are destroying...” replies Tom.

Silence descends over the table.

“We're looking at an electric car,” offers my wife.

This surprises me, as I know we aren't.

“I presume you've been joining the Just Stop Oil protests,” granddad says to Tom.

“Yup,” he replies.

“So, you don't care about disrupting everyone else's lives.”

“Not at all. That's the point.”

Granddad leans back. “Have you ever been arrested?”

“No. Not yet.”

“I was arrested at an anti-Vietnam war march outside the American embassy,” granddad says proudly. “My picture was in the paper.”

Tom stares across the table. “I didn't know...”

The good news is that change is underway. And it's official. Gen Z – or maybe Gen Alpha – could prove to be the last pop label – leaving more room for serious social analysis – because the Pew Research Center, which has led the way in generational research, is reassessing the use of generational tags. “The question isn't whether young adults today are different from middle-aged or older adults today,” explains Kim Parker, Pew's director of social trends research. “The question is whether young adults today are different from young adults at some specific point in the past.”

Pew also points out that there is far too much variance within each of the 16-or-so-year cohorts for them to be meaningful in a serious way. Fun perhaps, but no more. More important is to use a lens appropriate for each issue being researched rather than lumping year groups together.

Of course, people's life experiences differ over time. Millennial Tom (ages 27 to 42) fights climate change and Baby Boomer granddad fought against war. Gen Z Alice has grown up in a digital world of consumer excess. She is, according to the generational stereotype, more academic and anti-booze than previous cohorts. Her grandmother, who hid in London's Underground stations as an infant to avoid the Blitz, is more traditional and parsimonious, but insists on a glass – or two – of sherry every evening.

But, looking out into the sunny garden, it is also clear that there is much these generations share. Grandmother is sitting beside her granddaughter, who is now holding two knitting needles rather than her iPhone 14. Grandmother patiently explains how the needles interact with slow choreography to create the first line of red loops. They are enjoying each other's company.

“Mum, I'm making a scarf,” Alice says.

“I think I might learn to knit,” sighs Fiona to herself, sipping her glass of chilled white wine.

“It's easy,” says Alice, holding up her needles as evidence.

“You need a lot of patience,” cautions her grandmother. “And concentration.”

The Silent Generation has a lot to teach Gen Z about the “make-and-mend” culture. War children are thrifty for obvious reasons, which resonates perfectly with today's more sustainable world view. Alice has turned away from fast fashion and scours second-hand shops for clothes. Just like her grannie. In generational terms they may be miles apart, but in real life they are very close.

“I've got a lovely pattern at home,” says grannie. “I cut it out of Woman's Realm.”

“Don't worry,” Alice says brightly. “I've just found one on YouTube...”