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Growing up in Leigh,I ,on reflection, remember the easiest things. Saturday mornings,a family walk to the grocers,butchers and fishmongers.A quick detour back home to drop off the goods then off to the farm for bacon and eggs.Soon as we got in,my mam would do a fry up and we would watch the rugby on grandstand,after which,Me and all the kids from our neighbourhood would go out onto the back fee(field),play rugby(I was always Ellery hanley in my mind) then,just as I was about to score the winning try at our own version of Wembley,my mam would shout that the A-team was on.Off us kids went,only to return after being refuelled as Hannibal and mr t ,Stephen clueth always insisted on being Murdoch and it was easy for us to get him to be the knocker in "knock and run",Monday evenings,my mam would gather all the weeks previous papers together and send me off to the chippy,where I would be rewarded with an extra helping of fish and scraps,Then,it was a quick sprint home with our chippy tea and the best chips,or so it seemed,were the ones that stuck to the grease proof paper,with maybe a slight trace of ink on it. These days,its all retail parks and/or tescos(I live just off the infamous smithdown road in Liverpool,where anything is available,legal or not) and I ve counted 8 tescos within a square mile. Did my youth vanish? Or am I stuck in the past,or,where things just better,WHEN I WAS A KID?

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When I was a kid there was 2 Mcdonalds in Leeds, both in the city centre. Now they and other fast food places are everywhere.

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When I was a kid you could literally rot your teeth on 50p and play out from dusk til dawn only to fear nettles and dog doo

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52 minutes ago, 9' oller said:

When I was a kid you could literally rot your teeth on 50p and play out from dusk til dawn only to fear nettles and dog doo

the white dog doo was easier to spot too

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rickets, tuberculosis,  diphtheria, polio, one TV channel, the girl from Loretto School on the 57 bus, semi-derelict Station Road, Mr.Toolan's corner shop with butter hand wrapped and the bill in pencil on the brown paper bag, end of rationing. burning rocks to keep warm... 

Edited by JohnM

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Perpetual cloud of cigarette and pipe smoke in our house mixed with coal fire.

Heavy blankets with no radiator in bedrooms. A duvet was a funny foreign word.  

Space in the road to play games as there were very few cars.

Heavy leather footballs with at least one or  two missing patches. Getting hit with one of those hurt but you couldn’t show it.

Corporal punishment in schools.

Our milk getting stolen every day by Maggie Thatcher. 

The miners strike where lines were drawn and things said and done that the Brexit lot of today on both sides would shy away from in panic. 

EEC butter mountains.

Pit bings. 

Having to hand deliver a carrier bag full of Christmas cards to everyone in the neighbourhood except for that Mary up the road who fell out with my mum for a reason no one can remember. 

School homework being a once a week thing at the very most.  

My granddad and his mates with their demi-johns full of home made whisky, the way only Eastern Europeans can make it.

Getting a black and white telly from a jumble sale for £5 for my room and being delighted. 

Having to plan what you were doing at night and the weekend with your mates while you were at school because that was it for mass communication.  

Perpetually skinned knees. And picking the scabs.  

Thinking Debbie Harry was an old woman in 1980. :P  

Going on free holidays with my uncle, aunt and cousins as he kept winning Butlins’ darts competitions and getting freebie holidays for the national events.  Squeezing five of us in a Ford Capri going to Filey, just before it closed. 

Kids these days don’t know what they missed. Good and bad. 

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Having my picture taken by a stranger without my mother shouting and screaming pervert at the photographer.

Don't know why she does it now as I'm nearly sixty.

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When I was a kid - 

Curry was a surname

A takeaway was a maths problem

A pizza was something to do with a tower in Italy

A Chinese chippy was a foreign carpenter

A Big Mac was what we wore in the rain

Kebab wasn't even a word, never mind a food

Eating raw fish was called poverty, not sushi

And water came out of a tap, if anybody suggested putting it in plastic bottles and charging more for it than petrol, they would be a laughing stock  - when I was a kid.

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Crackerjack on a Friday nights and the prize was a pencil.

Playing the music of Gary Glitter before reality hit.

Fish and chips wrapped in newspaper.

Newspapers.

A stack of six vinyl singles on my record player, one would drop down, play, and then the next.

Recording the chart show on a Sunday on my cassette player (naughty me).

Shops.  Lots of shops.  HMV selling posters of my favourite bands.

The clinking noise of the milkman delivering milk in glass bottles to my front doorstep.

The smell of cigars at Christmas.

My baby cousin almost being killed by some dockers as they shoved a concrete block through the glass door of my uncle's house.  My uncle worked for the Mersey Docks and Harbour Board at the time.

Italian restaurants where the centrepiece was a bottle covered in wax from the candle in the top.

Shoulder pads.

Perms.

Going to the Rocky Horror Show in my best big shirt and doing all the moves.

Wimpey burgers.

Snuggling under an eiderdown. 

Morecambe & Wise Christmas Specials - oh how I miss them!

 

Edited by Saintslass

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Football matches that would last all day and well into the night, with roughly equal teams, only ended when the mum of the kid who's ball it was shouted him in for bed, then in a blind panic, caution was thrown to the wind as both teams chased that elusive, "last goal winner" because nobody ever kept score!

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Jumpers for goalposts.

You had to be in when the street lights came on.

When you misbehaved outside with your mates miles from home, there was always "that bloke" who told you to behave as he knows your dad...And he did?

Getting the Pink Final on Saturday evening for the old man.

2 Mojo's for a penny.

All your parents friends were your auntys and uncles.

Rope swings from trees.

Tin bath in front of the coal fire on Sundays.

 

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Porn being a picture of a woman's nipple.

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The sounds and smells of Sundays.  Bacon and eggs, dad's liniment that he slathered on before going off to play Sunday morning footie, mum would start cooking dinner listening to World Wide Family Favourites on the wireless and the house would start to smell of gorgeous roast, dad would return from the pub smelling of beer and pipe smoke.

After dinner Sunday afternoon TV. Laredo, Rawhide and other westerns.  Teatime dad would go out to the local seafood van for cockles and winkles which we would have with bread and butter. 

Sunday evening The Black & White Minstrel Show and Sunday Night at the London Palladium.  Good times.

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Cycle rides for miles with mates and parents had no idea where we were going. 

Nearly every lad carrying a penknife and didn't stab each other.

Apple nogging

Building dens 

Swimming in rivers

Clay wanging 

Climbing trees 

Trips to Casualty!

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Heavy blue pipe smoke throughout the house.

We lived in the kitchen diner.... the "room" was for sundays!

You could buy a fag and a match.

Lucky bags, jublees and spangles

Dr who at tea time saturday

My dad used the words p..i and n.....er on a regular basis without redress.

Black n white telly with 3 channels....

8 tracks

Alenander Bastedo

Steve Nash

 

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On ‎22‎/‎04‎/‎2018 at 9:04 PM, Saintslass said:

Crackerjack on a Friday nights and the prize was a pencil.

:shout: CRACKERJACK! :shout:

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15 hours ago, Robin Evans said:

Dr who at tea time saturday

There can be nothing more to add (*). Perfection! :)

(*) Except maybe the confession that, as a kid, I couldn't wait for Eddie Waring to get off my telly, delaying the start of Doctor Who wittering on about Rugby League results on Reporting North, after that other bloke had already droned on for ages about the football.

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