19 The good old days

You remember the good old days? Of course you do! Being an essentially meaningless concept, they can be any time in the past: Ancient Greece, the Renaissance, the summer of love, a week last Wednesday. It really doesn't matter. It was a beguiling time, whenever it was. Beer was fourpence a pint, kids had respect for their elders and unicorns roamed the earth. Music was tuneful, not just a noise. Art was a picture you could hang on the wall, rather than a shark in a tank of formaldehyde. We were happy to leave our front doors unlocked (which ensured that it was a golden age for burglars too).

There comes a time in life when the world seems to be spinning too quickly on its axis, when the desire to learn new things diminishes - along with our eyesight and libido. And, once we stop learning, it’s tempting to take refuge in the past. We bore anyone foolish enough to listen with a mantra of memories: farthings, florins, farenheit and fuzzy felt. Antirhinums, antimacassars and avoidupois. Dubbin and dolly blue. Green Shield Stamps, twin-tubs, tiger nuts, singing cowboys, coltsfoot rock, barley sugar twists, temperance hotels, sarsaparilla and sweet cigarettes (what a great idea they were, introducing kids to two lifelong addictions - sugar and tobacco - for the price of one!).

Childhood memories develop a golden bloom. We were young, idealistic and still had most of our marbles intact. Unlike now when, if it’s quiet, we can actually hear those brain cells popping; it sounds like idle fingers bursting bubble wrap. We had no trouble getting up out of a low chair. We had hair and teeth and prospects, not just a wispy comb-over. Our welfare was someone else’s responsibility back then. All we had to do was enjoy ourselves; no wonder we were happy!

But there wasn’t really a ‘golden age’, and the ‘good old days’ remain an alluring fantasy, because we wear that most ubiquitous of fashion accessories: rose-tinted glasses. Yes, that’s the trouble with taking a stroll down memory lane. The past is fine for the occasional visit, but it’s all too easy to get lost there. Maybe we should stick to the here and now. ‘Here’ being a small village on a cul de sac in the flatlands of East Yorkshire, and ‘now’ being a sunny day in June.