I grew up in a time where if you wanted to speak to one of your friends you had to get off your arse and go find them. That's not to say we didn't have a home phone, but that was more for show and so my mum could take phone calls from her mum on a Sunday morning. It certainly wasn't there for us kids to use. Our parents would give us curfews but they also gave us a level of freedom that kids now will never ever experience. The door to that life has been slammed shut a long time ago now. We never got asked what we'd been up to. Parents naturally assessed that taking a football out meant you were off to play football, taking your bike meant you were going for a ride. When we got up to mischief there were only eye witness accounts and none of us would have been stupid enough to ever tell an adult what we were getting up to. We weren't filming our antics and we certainly weren't posting them onto social media. Not that there was such a thing at the time. No these were the times when if you wanted the news you'd have to buy something called a newspaper and the television only had four channels. If you think that was bad someone had to get up and press a button to change the channel and woe betide if you missed the programme. Videos were the price of a one bedroom flat when they hit the market.
They were simpler times. If someone threatened you, you ignored it. If someone's going to hit you they don't give you advance warnings. If you genuinely had a beef with someone you just strolled up and socked them as hard as you could but even then you only did it if you had real reason to because you never knew when retribution might come your way. No forewarning, just do it. It's where the Nike slogan originated. Those who talk, talk. Those who walk, hit hard.
There's a reason we roamed like pack animals, there's safety in numbers. Kids didn't carry weapons. Well not in the sense of carrying knives. That's not to say someone might not have swung a branch or thrown the nearest object at someone if they were genuinely about to end up on the wrong side of a pasting.
Reputations count for a lot whatever age you are in life. You want my advice? If you hear a story about yourself and it's not going to count against your reputation but doesn't contain a grain of truth, just smile and keep people guessing. People will believe what they want to believe anyways as a general rule of thumb so why waste your breath trying to correct people every time your name gets mentioned? You do the same for your friends too, especially the ones who end up like brothers to you. Although sometimes you have to feign surprise and tell people don't believe everything you hear, it becomes an arse covering exercise. Does that sound real to you? You reply. Well then don't ask me stupid fucking questions. Take my brother from another mother Billy Fortant. When you get asked is it true Billy threw a dog into a river because it was barking at him and the owner wasn't trying to control it you say nothing and you wait for the second part of the story. Did he then throw the woman into the river because she was screaming in his face? As I said. Does that sound real to you? I mean between me and you it's not like we grew up next to the Grand Union Canal. Even after heavy rain the river was never deeper than a couple of foot deep. You know, just in case you were worried someone ever did get thrown into a river. I'll just add when you watch your kids first learn to swim there's a reason it's called doggy paddle. Woof!
There wasn't a single family in our neighbourhood that had a lot, but we all had something which was always better than nothing. We were always fed, we had a roof over our heads. If we were lucky in the summer we might be given 10 or 20p to buy an ice pop or two. Someone will do a study on the long term of E numbers on our generation one day, I'm sure it won't make pretty reading.
If it wasn't raining you were shoved out the door. Too nice to be inside. Sometimes even when it was raining you were shoved out the door. I'm sick of the sight of you. Go play on the A14. You'd catch a slipper round the arse for backchat or any general misbehaving. Nowadays they call that child abuse. Back then they called it part of growing up.
Girls were never an issue or came between us. Well not until our balls dropped and our hormones kicked in. We'd lose a lad for a day or two but they'd always come back. Their punishment was to have to go in goal.
This was a time where you'd ask for something for Christmas or your birthday and always left disappointed because you never got that you wanted. You asked for a skateboard and be given a banana board. Broken tarmac paths would eat you alive. If that sounds bad enough don't forget the fashion faux pas'. When we were kids Parkers meant you were poor and now everyone wants to emulate Liam Gallagher. Luminous socks, Bermuda shorts and who could forget the static shock filled shell suits which could have powered a town if you'd plugged us into the grid every time we walked from A to B. Spiked haircuts that looked more like bog brushes but even then that was progress from a bowl over your head and your mum cutting your fringe. I mean to be fair it was a good job most of us had no interest in girls for a long time because they'd have had no reason to have had interest in us.
We were hopping over fences and walls long before parkour was ever a thing. Then came our first whispy moustaches and girls wearing bras that you'd ping. Some of the lads would go from sounding like a choir boy to Barry White over night. Suddenly football wasn't the only type of inflatables you wanted to get your hands on if you know what I mean. You have a teenage son today, you pin that boy down and shave his top lip. He won't thank you today but he'll thank you in 20 years time.
Comments
Post a Comment