This has been a good week. L and I did park run on Saturday and she raced on ahead without me, which was no surprise. She had done no training at all, but I know that she is thinking ahead to the Colour Run at the end of July, and feeling like she should be doing something in anticipation. She walked a couple of times, but still managed to complete it 7 minutes faster than I did. Oh to be young and to run everywhere again - I can’t remember exactly when my children stopped doing that - probably around the age of 12, when they started to become more self conscious and aware of other people. I wish I had never stopped running. When I was about 13, I sometimes went jogging with my friend Jo Bray, but then we became interested in boys and running slipped off our agenda. Instead we used to spend every evening at the bus stop outside the Pioneer Pub with a crowd of friends.
I was very surprised when, aged 14, my parents set a curfew of 9.30pm on a school night, I was delighted, and had been expecting a battle and would have probably settled for 9pm. I lived on a fairly quiet estate built in the 60's. We lived in a cul de sac half way down a long steep windy road and I was a bit frightened to have to walk home from the bus stop alone, at night. I used to run down the middle of the road - it was fairly quiet with very few cars at that time of night, with my arms outstretched ready to karate chop any would-be attackers who might have been hiding in the bushes that lined the gardens. I went out to the bus stop in all weathers, and when it snowed I would have to layer up and wear 5 pairs of socks and my largest shoes. There was lots of snogging and couples pairing up and then all change. I loved being part of that group of local kids, all of a similar age, from different schools. This was in 1983, and we should really have all been New Romantics, listening to Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet. But instead, we were mainly Scooterboys/girls, Soulboy/girls, and Casuals, with an occasional Mod (although they needed thick skin, being a target for ridicule, especially if they had mirrors on their Scooters.) Everyone fitted into a category; the Casuals, who were generally much cleaner and aspired to drive Ford Capris, wore Farah trousers and Pringle jumpers. The Scooter boys (even those who weren't old enough for a driving licence) wore camouflage trousers - (cammis) some in khaki, others typical camouflage and Harrington, denim or green pilot jackets and sometimes Fred Perry shirts.
When I first started going out, I leaned more towards Mod, which seems to have been more acceptable for girls, although later I became more of a scooter girl, as you can see in the photo of me aged 16 at a scooter rally in Morecambe. Click on the arrow for another one taken at a campsite in Clacton around the same time, where you can see that almost everyone was wearing the scooter boy uniform.
Aged 14 or 15, I wore ski pants and sling back shoes or turtle neck short sleeved jumpers with matching cardigans and mini skirts or mini skirt suits or mini dresses. Most of us girls had bob haircuts and wore winged eyeliner and pale lipstick. Our clothes were borrowed from our mums' wardrobes or came from junk shops along the Kettering Road, close to Northampton town centre. I don’t recall there being many charity shops then, but there were lots of second hand shops.
My favourite was called Scrooge (in fact it is still there, although always seems to be closed) and I could have spent hours in there. It was always busy and you had to breathe in to squeeze between the rails, which were jam-packed with great big shaggy afghan coats, kaftans, paisley cravats and silk scarves, Doc Marten boots, cool leather jackets which would today be described as vintage, fur coats, and dusty handbags and endless items from the 50's, 60's and 70's. The stock would change frequently - it might have come from jumble sales and a lot of it was rubbish, but some of it was amazing and so cheap. I bought a pair of leather deck shoes in there in the early 1990s for a fiver, and they looked as if they had never been worn. I was delighted with them until one day it was raining and they whistled; every step I took was accompanied by a whistle and I understood how they had ended up in Scrooge.
We were often visited by the police at our bus stop, particularly on noisy nights. They were generally great with us, just asking us to keep the noise down and acknowledging that we had nowhere to go. Eventually a couple of youth workers came to meet us and arranged with us to set up a youth club in a local school in the evenings, somewhere warm and dry with a record player and a dartboard. We went for a little while but it didn't offer the same freedom as the bus stop. Once we looked old enough to get served in pubs, the group disbanded and we were replaced by younger kids.
Friday night was always soul night at the King David pub in Kingsthorpe and everyone who was 'on the scene' would be there. I started going regularly when I was 15, and a pint of cider was all it took. Any more than that and I would be sick - and often was.
The King David was a funny pub and it was there that I first met Mr C - he was in the army and worked behind the bar. I thought he was gorgeous, and would always look to see if he was working. He only worked some weekends, when he was home from camp, and then not always. I didn’t have to pay for many drinks when it was his shift. He asked me out on a date and that night was the only time I have ever been stood up. I was furious and embarrassed, but I think he might have found out how old I was, and that I was still at school. I did look 18; he must have been mortified. He bided his time though, waiting a couple of years until I was 17, and asked me out again. The kids think it is really very strange that we got together when we were so young, and cannot understand that that is how it was then. Most girls had boyfriends once they got to 13 or 14. I know that social media has made life very different and socialising is often more virtual, but I don’t necessarily think that it is a change for the better. I am amazed at the difference in my own life and those of my kids, who didn’t really go out before the age of 18. I think that this is fairly typical, and it's not all bad news as pregnancy rates have roughly halved since the beginning of the 1990s - I think it happens less frequently because they rarely physically meet up, preferring to conduct their romances from the safety of their own bedrooms.
And they are missing out on other things too. I started smoking at the age of 14 or 15 and just before my sixteenth birthday I decided that I should confess to my mum. Both my parents were smokers and I think most people did then, but I still felt guilty about it and didn’t want to hide it from my parents any more - they probably knew anyway. I was the youngest of 4 and I am sure that all the tricks had already been tried on them. My dad once questioned me about my yellow fingers on a Saturday morning after a night out at the King David (when my parents thought I had been at a friend's house for the night). I told him we had been printing with yellow ink at school and some had stained me. Anyway, I chose the right time carefully, on a Sunday night as my my mum stood ironing the school uniform in front of the telly. I started tentatively,
'Mum I've got something to tell you - I think you’re going to be really cross but I need to tell you.' Her face grew ashen and she put the iron down.
'Mum, I smoke. '
She clutched at her chest and said 'thank God for that. I thought you were going to say you were pregnant. '
I am still watching Love island and am slowly learning the language with words/phrases I have only ever heard on the show - pied, head turned, grafting, where your heads at, whipped and last night, dead ting. I have no idea whether these are just part of the Love Island lingo or whether they are in common usage for the under 30s. It's a different world. Thank the Lord for Google, who is helping me to keep abreast....
I've been to Manchester for a couple of days with Mr C, and had a great time exploring the city. I haven't been since I was a student, and it has changed a lot. I recognised a few places but couldn't orient myself at all. I spent a morning at Manchester Art Gallery, and have a new found love for Lowry. I always thought his paintings looked miserable and dark but actually they are very animated with bright pops of colour. There was an exhibition by a sculptor called Halima Cassell, and I felt compelled to stroke many of the pieces. I was apprehended by a security guard and told quite gruffly that I mustn't touch the exhibits. I apologised but then wanted to touch them even more. So I did it when his back was turned. I also went to The John Rylands Library which is a spectacular building and so peaceful, full of old books and beautifully carved woodwork. It smells delicious and was a welcome sanctuary on a hot day.
It's also been a week for catching up with some of my old favourites. On Tuesday, I spent the morning in Vintage Retreat with Singapore Sally who is doing the rounds of University open days with her daughter and then had a lovely evening with Caz and her family in Manchester. With both of them, I always feel as though I need more time, and there were so many things we didn't have time to talk about. They can both join me and Ulrika and Kylie on our oldies Love Island. What a holiday that would be!
Комментарии