Simpler times were good, but I wouldn’t go back
IRECENTLY had the opportunity to meet a local celebrity who wanted to talk about his childhood when computers did not exist and kids were literally sent out to play in the morning and not expected back until teatime.
No one worried about them. We both carried our “latch keys” on string around our neck.
He appeared fond of his childhood freedom, a simpler life and no shopping on a Sunday.
He then talked about the meals he remembered and that we both share a hatred for tripe and onions.
Between us we remembered the introduction of frozen foods and Vesta Chow Mein, grandmother’s stews (containing mystery meats), ice cream vans and Friday fish – wrapped in white paper and directly from Hull’s fish dock.
Unfortunately, as a vegetarian by choice from an early age, I also remember the disapproval of my family when I pushed the meat to the edge of the plate.
And, as a non-meat eater, I was continuously offered jacket potaour toes, veggie lasagne and omelettes. Thankfully, the vegetarian menu has changed since then.
Sharing experiences, we recalled first jobs – both working Saturday in local supermarkets, stacking shelves and working overtime doing stock taking. I recalled my stint in the cheese room (cutting and preparing blocks of cheese) which resulted in being socially isolated on the bus journey home. The smell of cheese sticks to your hair, which, for a teenage girl, wasn’t funny.
The conversation moved on to the dark days of the miners’ strikes with eight-hour power cuts every other day.
Living in a high-rise block of flats at the time, I had the challenge of climbing 14 sets of stairs, in pitch black conditions while carrying my brother, baby cousin, their nappy bags, a pram and my school bag, which was the equivalent to climbing Mount Everest.
Then there were the petrol shortages and the great disappearance of sugar.
Back in those days we had four channels on the TV. As there were no remotes, it was a case of manually pressing the button to change stations while also flicking a switch to swap between VHF and UHF wavelengths. Programmes didn’t begin until after school and finished at midnight with a resounding chorus of God Save The Queen. Then, if your parents forgot to get change from the shop, the meter on the TV had probably turned itself off anyway. And it wasn’t just the TV that had a meter. Gas and electric had them too.
Run out of money and you literally sat in the dark, shivered a lot or had to use the coal fire to heat up a pan of “shackles”, which is a thick soup made from anything you had left over.
If you were lucky, you got a dumpling or “crispy Jim” (a fried dumpling) to go with it.
It was good to reminisce, but I wouldn’t go back to those times. It was a good life – but it’s an even better life now.