The time of my life!

I've often thought that I was born in the wrong era. I love the style of the 20s, I've got a figure that was fashionable in the during the Renaissance, and I could totally have gotten onboard with 'Mother's Little Helper' in the 50s and 60s. Hell, I'd have taken the Black Death and general squalor of Victorian London some days to have lived in an age where administering opium to a crying baby was not only acceptable, but normal.

Sometimes, my 1979 vintage feels like it's done me out of anything really significantly cool. I missed Beatlemania and the rise of the civil rights movement, and instead made it into a world where Maggie Thatcher, leader of the Conservative Party and a lady way less exciting than the first Female UK PM should be, had just come to power to begin an 11 year tenure. Followed next by Mr Grey himself (totally no reference or similarity to Christian from 'Shades of' - we bloody hope anyway) John Major.

And if I was born too late to be revered for my curves and partake in drugs even stronger than wine to make motherhood easier, it seems I was born too early for a fair bit of good stuff too.

The England of my childhood was bland. Topsy and Tim played in the garden and cleaned out the rabbit hutch before Harry and Hermione significantly raised the bar for kid's literature. There were no super cool pirate themed parks or play cafes with ball pits. There were concrete pitches with broken swings and a roundabout you'd as likely break an arm falling off than get dizzy riding on. To be fair, our local Carpet World did have a ball pit, but we were only allowed there a handful of times because there was only so many visits my parents could make, pretending to need new carpets, before they were rumbled.

The England of my childhood was harsh. There were no prizes for participation and child-centred learning that let you take charge of your own direction wasn't a thing. People lost because they were shit at something and you memorised your times tables no matter how long it took or how much you hated it, so you didn't feel like a fecking nuffy when you had to stand up and parrot them for the rest of your class. On top of that, there were stinging nettles where you played out and dog shit where you rode your bike and your mate's mums were as likely to tell you off for something and flog you with a slipper as your own was.

The England of my childhood was predictable. Fridays was quiche of whatever flavour thing you'd not liked enough to eat earlier in the week and Sundays were roast. It was all organised beforehand because Tesco didn't open 24hrs (or at all on Sundays) and Uber Eats wasn't a thing. Hell, Sushi wasn't a thing. You watched Dr Who on Fridays and Top of the Pops on Thursdays because there was no Netflix or Stan and while you could record things to VHS to watch later, the very real risk of recording over and losing forever your holiday videos or a movie dad hadn't seen yet and the subsequent backlash meant it wasn't worth bothering. Also, to be sure it'd work you had to be there to actually press record so there was little point.

I didn't get to reach out via social media if I felt lonely. I got to write in a diary with a fountain pen to myself, which significantly compounded the issue. I didn't get to blast the hit of my choice over and over to help me feel ready for anything - it needed rewinding first, which took the wind out of it a bit, unless your cassette's B side was as good, which, it never was. I didn't get to film my haul for You Tube after every Saturday shopping spree, netting myself thousands in ads for doing not a lot. I got to show my mum while she made dinner and pretended to listen - but clearly wasn't doing.

Though, as you know from my last post, I'm trying hard at the minute to reframe my thinking about things. To become more positive - or at least, less cynical. So, while my life might have been much more exciting had I been born earlier, or easier and filled with a fair amount more possibilities as a teen, had I been born later, I've come to accept it. In fact, I wouldn't really want to change it...

As well as being fortunate enough to be born after two World Wars, once there had been significant inroads into the rights of many minorities and into an era where disease was on the decline thanks to the advances of medicine and an understanding of general hygiene, I also landed at a time when you could do a whole lot of stuff as a kid you can't now.

A time when you could play unsupervised, wherever and however you wanted, for hours and hours (until the streetlights came on, which in the UK summer could easily be after 9pm). A time when you could go anywhere in a car with ease because not only didn't you need a car seat, you didn't even need a seatbelt - or come to think of it, a seat. And a time when as you experimented with what you wore (hello pink eyeshadow, leggings with foot stirrups and shoulder pads) pictures were very limited thanks to the costs and faffing involved in taking and processing them.

It was easy growing up in the 80s to live your own way, because there was a whole lot less to compare it to. You were surrounded by people like you, who lived like you and that anyone out there was able to own an empire of their own building at sixteen seemed about as real as hover boards. So while there's a fair bit I might have missed out on or a fair bit I was too old to ever really get on board with by the time it came around, I have to concede, there was a fair bit to be grateful about from that time too.

#time #life #generation