In the run up to the Coronation and don’t call me nostalgic but worth reflecting on how time changed so much in 70 years since the last one. We start with the milkman who delivered that wonderful fresh milk off the side loading milk cart powered by battery with a 12 mile radius ( all very eco then ). I often assisted the milkman as he went into the households to collect payment. I wondered often why he took so long . Nothing was ever stolen from the truck and it was great fun to engage with all the characters. Nine months later lots of prams and lookalike milkmen.
Bats and toys lay in the gardens for the kids to play with real fun and not a laptop or mobile in sight. The streets were clean and double glazing with central heating a new bonus of the times. Online was hanging out the washing and a tablet something you took if you had a headache. The Doctor’s surgery was just up the road and it seemed you could always seen him or he would pop around to see young Johnny in bed. We read newspapers and ate fresh food cut meats before your eyes. Women wore frocks and men worse suits, bowler hats and umbrellas in the City.
A man’s word was his bond and reputation was a treasured possession. People went to Church on Sunday and never worked from home. Saturday was the big night out and you could smoke in Pubs ( there were many of them ). Cars could be parked in the street and yellow lines or residents parking was never thought of. Congestion charge would have been muddled with indigestion. Soccer was played on Saturday afternoon at 3 o’clock and there was never VAR or extra time. The players smoked or ate a full English breakfast before the game. Some swilled a tonic beer at half time.
Harold MacMillan told us all we had never had it so good and he was right. Harold Wilson wore a raincoat and often flashed himself in front of his secretary Marcia. Profumo had an affair with Keeler and Mandy Rice Davies told us ‘ he would say that ‘ . Bingo was a National game and the pictures were the main forum of entertainment or the back row where many a scrum took place. I found a Scotsman once in a kilt trying to make love to his girlfriend in the back row when I rattled my collecting tin in his ear collecting for Winston Churchill’s Memorial Fund. He chased me up the Fulham Road and swung his sporran at me I recall.
The times were simpler more fun because we knew less, had less choice and more time together. We talked to each other no texts , e mails or what’s apps only postage stamps letters and licking envelopes. The shops offered personal local services , keys cut, shoes cobbled , green green grocers, launderettes, public toilets and swimming baths. Bovril , Ovaltine , Sausages and mash no nouveau cuisine or celebrity chefs just good. Old fashioned cooks and the Carvery Trolley. Press button A phone boxes, phones on cords and wireless radios. Digital was your middle finger and people could speak English and do mental arithmetic.
Gold tops, silver tops , blue tops and double cream, bread and butter milk and cheese all on the trolley delivered to your door. Times have changed. Police stations were open and real bobbies were in there. They walked the beat and people meet , Dixon of Dock Green was a must viewing and London felt safe. Black taxis didn’t offend but took people to smart places and red buses came three at once and always late. Conductors weren’t just in the Orchestra and bus drivers knew where the Palace was. Take the bottles back to the shop and get paid to do so, Bob a job cubs and scouts , girl guides and Territorial Armies. Mary Hopkins and the Beatles , Stones and Manfred Mann. Those were the days my friend I thought they would never end .. but they did.
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