Growing Up In The Fifties

Tuesday 13th October

Firstly there was no television, well not until about 1958 or 59 in our house.  I do remember the radio, listening to ‘Round the Horne’ on a Sunday lunchtime.  I thought the voices were just funny, I am sure I didn’t get even a quarter of the jokes at all.  Most of my fifties memories are of my Nana’s house, though we must have moved into our new council house some time around 56 or 57; my memories of that house are too mixed up with the Sixties.  The radio, or ‘wireless’ as it was called, was king.  ‘Sing Something Simple’ on a Sunday evening and Two-Way Family Favourites were must listen to.  I can remember looking at the orange-glowing dial and wondering at the station names – Berlin, Paris, Luxembourg and Hilversum, and wondering if I would ever travel to see these exotic locations (Hilversum remains unvisited).  Saturday afternoon and it was the football results.  Grandad would sit in his armchair with a packet of Senior Service beside him as he recorded each and every result.  I had to sit absolutely still and not say a word (children should be seen but not heard); in my naivety I thought he really must love football, only later did I understand he was just filling in his pools coupon.

We lived in a small town, no Supermarkets but a Thursday market, even a large live animal market; as a child we would play running in and out of the empty pens, careful not to skid on the ample piles of sheep shit.  The milk was still delivered by horse and cart; I would feed the horse a dry crust while the farmer’s wife doled pints or quarts out of a metal churn and into an enamel jug which Nana would keep in the pantry.  No fridges or washing machines of course; the pantry was North facing and she had a marble shelf for the butter and the milk, a galvanized bucket of water underneath kept it cool even on hot day.  Vegetables were also delivered by horse and cart, and bread too.  Later we would have the excitement of the weekly visit of the Corona lorry, and a van with brooms and dusters and all sorts of house-ware would visit once a month.  All these delivery men had bells, and Nana seemed to know always which bell was which, even the rag and bone man.

It all seems a lifetime away, which of course it is.  I just wonder what ancient memories my Grandchildren will write about in sixty years time – maybe marveling at the slowness of i-pads and mobile phones (not even holograms).  Who knows?  Life was undoubtedly hard back in  the fifties, but I think in many ways people were happier.  As a child I wanted for nothing, largely because I had nothing to compare with; kids today see the whole world on their mobile phones before they experience anything.  We had to discover everything for ourselves and slowly, and I think we were better for it.