There's something timeless about Trinity. At least that's the cliché that graduates cling to as we sink deeper into the swamp of nostalgia. Whenever I pass the front gate, I get the same old shiver down the spine and the same old memories of five special years in my life. But a couple of months ago, I went back to take a closer look at the campus and was stunned by the changes that have overtaken Trinity since I left in 1991.

The new buildings around the periphery of the university are testament to the change. In my day, there were about 9,000 undergraduate and postgraduate students on campus; today, there are almost 15,000.

The real surprises are in the details. Take the Buttery Bar. In my day it veered between dark and atmospheric and dank and sleazy. On my recent visit, all seemed unchanged, but on closer examination there were subtle changes. The walls were clean and my feet didn't stick to the floor. There was something else. I could breathe. When I drank here, cigarettes seemed to be virtually compulsory, like The Smiths and PLO scarves. In the Buttery bar these days, the smokers are largely absent.

This is not to say that bad habits have died out on campus. I have been stunned by the industrial quantities of alcohol I see consumed on the streets of Dublin, and intrigued by new policies in Trinity, and other third-level colleges, aimed at curbing student drinking.

We certainly liked our booze back in the 1980s, when huge proportions of student society budgets were spent on alcohol - Guinness had a representative on campus and women competed against men in the annual Yard of Ale contest. But something scary happened in the past 10 years. Let's hope they can exorcise the Kamikaze drink culture that has crept into campus life. Don't get me wrong. There's a lot more to modern student life than the boozing us smug thirtysomethings like to pontificate about. Strolling around campus, I get the distinct impression that student life has become richer and more complex than it was in my day.

Trinity is less elitist now, and the old west-brit cliché hurled at us by jealous UCD types no longer has any meaning. I also get the impression that the character of student life is more diverse than at any time since the college's foundation. There is a multinational feel to Trinity, with almost one in eight students coming from overseas and 78 countries represented on campus. The age profile of the student body also reflects a growing diversity. The average age of college entrants is higher than in my day - there's a big push to recruit mature students and one in four people studying at Trinity already have a degree.

I won't try and minimise the pressures the average Trinity student faces today. Long before the Government began its review of fees, there were daunting challenges. The increase in the cost of accommodation in Dublin and the number of students working part-time suggests things are not as laid back as they first appear.

But take solace in the fact that the long term prospects for Trinity graduates are rosier than they were when I walked through the front gate for the first time. Back in 1985, jobs were scarce, emigration was a fact of life and there was a feeling of gloom, even for us, the most privileged Irish young people.

In my day, 56 per cent of graduates found work in the year after leaving college. Last year, the figure was 65 per cent. What really fascinates me about today's graduates is the number who chill out in the year after they leave college. Almost one in every 10 graduates is listed as not available for employment or further study. My generation travelled for work, now they are travelling to find themselves.

Am I jealous? Damn right I am. I'm also a little bit disappointed. Until recently, I took solace in the belief that things were better in my day. I'm no longer sure they were. All I do know for sure is that things are very different these days, and that alone is worth celebrating.