Nostalgia isn't what it used to be

A recent discovery, of previously unseen family photos from 1973, had me fondly remembering the good old days.

Until I thought about it a bit more.

After my Mum died, we had the sad task of disposing of the contents of the house me and my brothers had grown up in. I wound up with several boxes of odds and ends, which I put in a cupboard, and hadn’t plucked up the courage to look at for nearly a decade.

When I recently opened one, I discovered a vintage slide viewer (you could tell it was old – it was actually made in England and it didn’t work properly) and a box of slides. To my surprise and delight, there were photos of me and my younger brother when we were small that I hadn’t seen before.

To give that some context, whilst some families were filming each other with Super 8 cameras, or reeling off endless rolls of film, photographic evidence proving that I haven’t always been old, hairy and tired is scarcer than rocking horse poo.

I sent them off to a company I found on the internet, and now have lovely digital versions of the images. Notes written in pencil on some of the slides show them to be from 1973. And what happy memories these warm-toned photos conjure up.

As I was impossibly young (not to mention cute) I was happily oblivious to what was happening around me at that time in my life, unless it involved Monopoly, Biggles books, or running around endlessly, falling off my bike and arguing with my little brother.

So I looked up 1973. It seems that whilst I was striking a pose for the camera, rail workers and civil servants were striking too, but in a different way. When I was contemplating jumping off a river bank and ‘bombing’ my sibling, the IRA were bombing London for real.

As I soaked up the sun, Pink Floyd were contemplating The Dark Side Of The Moon. And as I cooled down with a Cider Lolly, Last Of The Summer Wine was uncorked onto the nation’s TV screens for the first time.

I probably wasn’t allowed out of my road, but the three day week was just around the corner.

I was wearing hopelessly baggy shorts in some of the photos, whilst Dawn had decided to Tie A Yellow Ribbon Round The Old Oak Tree. As my Dad smiled from his deckchair, someone in Whitehall was introducing VAT. And whilst my Mum hugged her boys tightly whilst Dad took a picture, Princess Anne was marrying Captain Mark Phillips.

I think my Dad owned an Austin Allegro, but not that year, as they’d only just been launched.

I suppose it’s just as well I wasn’t aware of the dark clouds overhead, as I enjoyed the summer sunshine. Otherwise, I might have grown up to be an embittered, cynical, cantankerous and grumpy old...

Oh. Right.

This column might first have appeared in the North West Evening Mail as my 'Thank Grumpy it's Friday' column, on the 29th of November. Unfortunately, it hasn't appeared on their website yet, but as it hasn't been updated for a week, I can only assume their web chap is on holiday, or sulking. As I don't received a print copy of the paper until tomorrow, I'm unsure if it has actually been included.

I sent them the same photo of a 6 year old me that you can see above, so they may have concluded that I've finally lost what little of the plot I still had, and dumped me. We'll see...

(Compilations, compilations... so many compilations! Tonight's is a Q Magazine free cover CD from July 1996, called "Mmmmm...")
xx

The Schaf Shuffle

The weather – source of endless fascination, conversation, irritation and (just recently) excess irrigation. And a fidgety weather presenter on the BBC... I’m endlessly fascinated with the weather, and will confess to making sure I catch the BBC’s updates whenever possible. Not the local ones, where half the presenters look like they got dressed in the dark, or ITV, where they seem to know very little about actual weather, but the national forecasts. Delivered by actual Met Office personnel, their job entails a tricky mix of waving your hands about a bit, explaining about warm fronts without smirking, and trying not to look too pleased whilst mentioning gales force winds and torrential rain. Or stand in front of Cornwall. Each has their own presenting style, but there is one who intrigues me above all the others. Step forward, Tomasz Schafernaker, the 37 year old man from the Met who breezed onto our screens in 2001, as the youngest male ever to point out that it was going to r...

Making an exhibition of yourself

Now and again, it’s good to reaffirm that you’re a (relatively) normal human being. One excellent way of doing this is to go to a business exhibition. Despite what you might have surmised from reading my previous columns, I am employable, and even capable of acting like a regular person most of the time, even joining in the Monday morning conversation about the weather over the weekend, and why (insert name of footyballs manager here) should be fired immediately. The mug! True, there are times, often involving a caffeine deficiency, where it is like having the distilled essence of ten moody teenagers in the room, but I try and get that out of the way when people I genuinely like aren’t around to see it. As part of my ongoing experiment with what others call ‘working’, my ‘job’ involves me occasionally needing to go and see what some of my colleagues get up to outside the office, and what our competitors do to try and make sure that they do whatever my colleagues do better than ...

RIP Jenwis Hamilbutton

We are gathered here in this... (looks round a bit) um... blog, to mourn the passing of Jenwis Hamilbutton. His life may have been short and largely irrelevant, but he touched the lives of so many people that... sorry? Oh. Apparently that was someone else... Jenwis Hamilbutton rose briefly to fame on twitter during 2010, when he was retweeted by BBC F1 presenter Jake Humphrey, having criticised his shirt. A similarly unspectacular claim to fame occurred when a tweet he crafted at 1am on a windy night appeared in F1 Racing magazine. An amalgam of bits of Formula 1 drivers Lewis Hamilton and Jenson Button (mostly the hopeless bits), he came into existence via 3 pints of cider, a Creme Egg and the Electric Light Orchestra’s mournful 1986 farewell album “Balance Of Power”, played loudly over headphones. In his short existence, he was followed on twitter by Paul Hardcastle of “19” fame, and a bunch of slightly odd but jolly nice people, whom he was never entirely sure actually exist...

grumpyf1

Search This Blog