Our House In The Middle Of Our Street.
Where everybody knows your name.
Growing up in the 1980s.
In the summer of 1983, I was 5 years old. I didn’t have a care in the world. My sister Emzee was a few months old and the newest member of our family.
Telephone numbers only had four digits. You can still get 1/2 pence sweets at the pantry. Mobile phones and social media is not even an idea and decades away.
The gamers were just getting their teeth into the Atari St. gaming console. The joystick went: left-right, forward & back with a round orange button on the right corner. The trending game was Pac-Man.
Memories in 1983.
I can remember going to the Labour Club on a Saturday morning with my Dad. I used to go to the cinema club with the rest of the kids from our street and surrounding areas.
There was at least 10 of us if not more and we had a young lady her name was Penny, who had possibly just left school and was doing a summer job looking after our little rabble.
We used to have 20 pence pocket money for the Plaza cinema days and I could get sweets & cup drink and crisps for 10pence.
Afterwards, I used to go back to the Labour Club and meet my Dad. I always remember when I arrived that you were blinded a little by the haze of cigarettes & pipe smoke.
The canteen food hatch, where scampi or chicken, served in a small wicker basket with proper homemade chips was the exotic meal choice & family treat. Created on the spot by Gladys.
Who smoked 80 a day and had a tabard that was white when she bought it but now was a yellow & grey stained piece of art. She had a gravelled and broken voice with a stubbly chin.
But she was a strong and stoic lady and loved by all. Bizarrely she knew everyone’s name and would babysit for the majority of the estate and adjacent streets where we lived in a little house.
The price of a 3 bedroom semi-detached house in a cul-de-sac in a suburban area of North Wales was £23k.
Strong moral values.
We all knew our neighbours on our street each and everyone when we were kids but nowadays it’s filled with strange people and the elderly and vulnerable is hidden away with nobody checking on them and people lacking basic mutual respect which is our British value and basic moral code we were raised on.
People in our street and on the estate used to have there front doors wide open during the day.
Fences and gates were small and decorative with gardens tidy and neat but basic in comparison to modern-day landscapes.
Nothing was to much trouble for anyone if you needed to borrow things from each other and often we would share things like hoovers, table cloths and chairs, clothes mangles and washing lines.
We used to entertain ourselves with games of manor 123 or hide and seek. Girls would be playing hopscotch and skipping in the street.
Us boys would be playing football on the green in all weathers with jumpers for goalposts and booting around a heavy leather case ball.
Sometimes in the early evenings, we would go budding and hedge-hopping to create a little harmless mischief.
Everyone was always in clean clothes and stuff would be handed down if you grew out of a top or pair of pants.
Even though the economy at the time was not the best due to the fact the first female Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher was ruling with an iron fist.
There was enough food for everyone and nobody ever went without ever. If someone else was struggling, the likes of Gladys would make sure you had everything you needed to be a sustainable and respectful member of our neighbourhood and street. Nobody asked her to do it. She just knew. Never would it be brought up in conversation or mentioned.
The moral beliefs of love thy neighbour were strong and adhered to. People from different countries and all colours of the rainbow were welcomed and embraced by our community areas.
You were from North Wales and that was it. Whether you’re from lands afar or born in Chatsworth house cottage hospital up in the next town.
Our house was at your house too. Everyone was welcome and there was always happy and smiling people in the garden or with us children playing in the street.
If your parents were not about or had to nip out. Good-natured people like Gladys and others would always keep a protective eye out.
Knowing you knowing me.
In 1983 and for as long as I can remember growing up. Loyalty and respect were compulsory. Nobody went hungry. People’s outlook wasn’t clouded or influenced by social media and over the top political correctness.
The bubble bursters and snowflakes who roll their eyes in disgust thinking it’s a god-given right that if they stamp there feet everything is always about them and they get whatever they decide without thought for others.
If you think about it for two minutes. Having morals and loyalty to others always makes a happy and content community or street.
Being kind cost nothing but the gesture itself is the most priceless and rewarding gift you can give.
Modern-day technology has changed our lifestyles so much. Maybe it’s not worth it if you forget the things that you had instilled in you in 1983 and people suffer in silence and others just accept selfish and unkind behaviour as normal. Simple gestures and open mindsets from people who never pre-judge has been the foundation of what makes us human beings. Maybe sometimes this needs to be raised and shared.
Life would be positive with morals. It really would be good.
Created in a secure and kind space, reminiscing of 1983.
Brian Anthony Cumberlidge. 10/05/2020
