A Christmas sometime between 1955 and 61

I don’t usually do nostalgia, but this week is an exception.

So for all those who grew up in the 1950s and 1960s here is a selection of the presents that came into our household each Christmas from 1952 till 1963.

They are not in any order and lean heavily on my own child hood experiences, but I bet they could be replicated by many who read this.

And for those whose childhoods came later there will be in another post, with images of Barbie Dolls, the Bay City Rollers and Mud annuals, along with scaletric, my little Pony and the Turtles, including all four sourced from the cellar.

Of course if I wanted to really revel in nostalgia I could invite contributions on the upstairs of Quarmby’s, the sparkling and  groaning shelves of Woolworths and that paradise for all ages which is Toys R Us.

I don’t recall doing the storehouse Father Christmas and think we avoided it when the lads came along, but I have always been a sucker for Christmas trees.

They have to be so big that you end up chopping a bit off the bottom, come from a forest somewhere and have a mismatch collection of decorations which are as much about past Christmases as they are about elegant design and appearance.

Only recently I gave up on the multi coloured tree lights and went with the wishes of our Josh that they should be all one colour.  And every year we still put the Christmas angel designed by Saul somewhere near the top.

That said there is always that debate when to buy the tree, too early and it runs the risk of losing its needles and too late and all that is left are those sad two foot specimens which have a bit missing in the middle.

But the event is as much about family traditions as anything so despite being 41 Ben will still get a Beano album in his stocking and Luca a selection of wine gums, fruit pastilles and the odd Kinder egg.

And because I grew up in the 50s and that pretty much has frozen in time the Christmas I like, we shall bring out the Monopoly board, insist that everyone tries a selection of the festive nuts, and gather to watch “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

That said there will be the addition of those nice things to eat that Tina grew up with at home in Italy, at least three phone calls to Varese during the day and a visit from Ron and Carol.

All that and the Christmas football match which the boys and their friends play for half an hour on the Rec sometime after the presents and before the big meal.

It is a tradition which they have played for as long as I can remember, and over the years the event has pulled in friends, and anyone who is around the house on the day.

But mindful of my responsibilities I stay indoors, tending the fires, laying the table and reflecting on past family gatherings.

That said a few things have changed.  Back in the early 1950s we still attached candles to the tree, went out for a brisk walk up to Peckham Rye and ate directly after the Queen’s broadcast.

Not that it ever seemed to snow back then either.  But as they say be careful about what you wish for.  Back in the afternoon of Boxing Day in 1962 the snow fell across Peckham, New Cross and Eltham, and continued for months.

Pictures; from the collection of Andrew Simpson

Knowledge ...... "the new colour magazine which grows into an encyclopædia"

I remain surprised at how much of my childhood has survived the passage of nearly 60 years.

No. 71 Masks

The cherished books, comics, and magazines I lovingly read and reread have had a more that a few near misses, when house moves, and requests to spring clean could have resulted in their loss.

Some like my Eagle annuals and comics are regularly brought out and  perused, and I am never quite sure if this is a testimony to their quality or that tendency to slip back into a less complicated time.

And today it is the turn of Knowledge which was a weekly educational magazine for children. 

It was launched by Purnell and Sons on January 9th 1961, cost two shillings, and was designed to build into an encyclopaedia.

There were 192 issues, spread out into sixteen volumes.  I still have almost all of the first 116 editions, although sadly somewhere along the way the bound volumes have been lost and I am left with just the covers.

But these alone are a fascinating read, containing a full page illustration and descriptions and explanations across the remaining three pages.

No.1 Architecture

“The majority of the covers of the first 192 issues) were the work of illustrator Alessandro Fedini, but the covers of the additional issues 193-216 (volumes 17 and 18) depicted twentieth-century events and news headlines.

Knowledge was a British version of the Italian magazine Conoscere published by Fratelli Fabbri Editori of Milan.

The concept of a British edition had first been pitched to Fleetway Publications Ltd who turned it down, fearing it would damage sales of their own The Children's Encyclopædia and The Children's Newspaper. 

Following the success of Knowledge, Fleetway brought out Look and Learn in 1962.

Knowledge sold 400,000 copies  and ceased publication in 1966.*

I can’t remember when I stopped getting the magazine but it will have been sometime around 1964, when at the age of 14 I deemed such stuff had had their day.

But our Stella saw their potential and carefully saved them, which is how they eventually came back to me.

No.6 The Atom

By one of those odd twists, the magazine Conoscere was collected by the Italian side of the family and were until recently still on the bookshelves.  

The style and in particular the illustrations are recognizably the same.

And it is the artwork of Alessandro Fedini, which still draws me in, from his cover illustrating a piece on masks to that of covers for Flags, the atom and architecture.

In this digital age where so much knowledge is accessibale in an instant I still like the idea of Knowledge, and that other trail blazer which was Look and Learn.

Back then the alternatives to these was the library or expensive and formiddalbe encyclopedias.

So I continue to have a soft spot for how we got our information on everything from entomology and ethnology to Orders in Architecture and publishing.

But that is where my 116 editions ends.

No. 30 Flags

Leaving me just to add that long before Knowledge and Look and Learn there was Eagle, but that is another story.

For those who want to see all the front covers I suggest you follow the link.**

I will close by remembering the newsagents on Mona Road, just round the corner from our house on Lausanne Road. 

It was a magical place, but alas has long since gone.

Just when that happened I have no idea.  

We left for Well Hall in 1964 and I had no reason ever to go back, which is a shame given that so many of the Christmas annuals, comics and magazines, we still have knocking around will have come from there.

But I guess there are some things Knowledge will never deliver an answer to.

No.11 Bread

Location; the 1960s

Pictures, covers from Knowledge, 1961-1962, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

*Knowledge (partwork), https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Knowledge_(partwork)

*british comics, https://britishcomics.wordpress.com/2020/01/07/knowledge/

Shopping the years …… with Habitat

The blog doesn’t do nostalgia … it’s a false and dangerous place, where the sun always shines during summer holidays and Wagon Wheels never lose their size.

But just sometimes it worms its way into the blog and in the case of these Habitat catalogues it is allowed.

If you are of a certain age to have thrilled at the first time you heard “She Loves You”, felt the light go out at the news of the death of Otis Reading and trembled during the Cuban Missile Crisis, then Habitat will resonate.

It was the go to place for those of us rebeling at our parents taste, and wanting to set up home with the exciting designs of the 1960s and 70s.

Much of what they sold was relatively cheap and allowed us to think we were chic, and different.

And even if after an hour of wandering through the show room you came out with just a set of wine glasses or ceramic pot advertising “Dripping” you felt you were up there with Conran, Quant, and heaps of forgotten pop stars.

These catalogues were sent over by my friend Ann in France.  

I had finished a story on design and history with an appeal for anything Habitat.*

Ann replied with “In response to your request, I have an assortment of these, from, I think , when the Habitat shop opened in Manchester.

It was when I was at Art College, and our tutor took us on a visit.

After having to search for good design in large stores, it was wonderful to find that everything in the same shop was well designed.

I have long been a fan of Conran, and much of our first and second home was based on what we saw in the Conran House, and Kitchen books. And later on his book on France.

I laughingly said to Howard, what Andrew needs is a couple of days over here, with a small van.

Then I went to look for the Habitat magazines.  I have about 20 dating from 1972, which was the year after we got married.

Will shake off the vintage dust, and send a couple of pictures, when I've got my breath back!”

And sure enough she did with the promise that some will come back with friends returning home after visiting Ann and Howard.

So there you are …… a little bit of 60s and 70s design when we were all so young.

And yes I suppose it is a slice of nostalgia

Next; a wander through the insides.

Location; the 1960s and 70s

Pictures; catalogues from Habitat, circa 1970scourtesy of Ann Love 

*Wendy houses …… and a bit of social history, https://chorltonhistory.blogspot.com/2023/06/wendy-houses-and-bit-of-social-history.html

The Art of Habitat ………………

Now if you are of a certain age, the word Habitat means style, exciting designs, and a way of living which marked you off from what your parents liked.*

Added to which during its early years, Habitat was relatively cheap, allowing you to fill your first home with innovative furniture, bold light fittings, a range of kitchen stuff and some “quirky other things”.

And even on those lean months, there was enough smallish inexpensive items for you to splash out a couple of quid on something which was fun to look at and had a use.

No Saturdays would be quite complete without a visit to the store on John Dalton Street, and occasionally out to Wythenshawe, while growing up in Eltham offered up a trip to the store at Bromely.

We still have lots of odd Habitat bits knocking around, but all pretty much come from its heyday in the 1960s and 70s.

Sadly, none of the well-thumbed catalogues survived, although I do have a Habitat head, which Virginia bought for a few pennies as a present for me.

It had been part of a marketing campaign, and with that stunning business acumen after the campaign was over the company sold the  heads off.

And over the years I bought into these silly items, including a set of cardboard Penguins from 1978 and a couple of bizarre looking fish.

All of them proved talking points for years, but only the head has survived.

Perhaps other people have some similar remnants of those Habitat campaigns or perhaps even a catalogue which they would share with me.

We shall see.

Location; our dining room

Pictures; The Art of Habitat, circa 2002, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

*Habitat, Our Heritage, https://www.habitat.co.uk/help/our-heritage

...... "to be young was very heaven" ..... growing up in the 1960s & 70s

Now I am always wary of giving a decade a title and with it a description.

I grew up in the 1960s and became grown up in the 70s.

The first is always portrayed as the swinging decade and the following as the dismal decade.

And of course there is some truth in both.

To be 14 in 1964 was to be in very heaven.  It began with the music and that feeling that we could all be, "Beautiful boys with bright red guitars in the spaces between the stars" *

And it followed on with the fashions in clothes, furniture and films all adding to that sense that here was something different where anything was possible.

For those just a tad older than me, it meant leaving a job on a Friday and walking into a new one on Monday, and blowing Friday's wages on a set of Ben Sherman shirts, or Quant make up, with an eye on a stylish set of fabrics from Habitat.

By contrast the 70s were one of those lean dismal periods dominated by growing industrial unrest, stack shoes and lava lamps.

That said I liked and still like lava lamps, along with loon trousers, and much else about the 70s.

As for the 1960s, there is something slightly at odds with what I lived through.

I was a boy from south east London, at home on Well Hall Road, Eltham High Street and Woolwich market.

I didn’t have the spending power of those at work and no one told me about the Marque Club until I left for Manchester in 1969.

And so, I saw much of that swinging period at a distance, taking in the films of Michael Cane, and Terence Stamp, watching Jean Shrimpton and Twiggy on the news, and wondering if I had the chance would I be a Mod or a Rocker.

On balance it would have been a Mod, and with the limited money I had that was where I slowly progressed, but in the absence of friends with scooters and Parkas, I opted for the 161 bus or the 8.40 to Charing Cross.

Leaving me starting the 70s in Manchester at The Twisted Wheel and an introduction to what would become known as Northern Soul, and wandering across my newly adopted city, exploring all that it had to offer.

And then by the middle of the decade, buying our first house out in Ashton, getting married and starting the job I did for 35 years.  All of which marked my passage into becoming grown up.

I suspect many who read this story will have similar experiences, and like me cherish both decades for what they offered and what we did during them.

So in the words of Brian Patten, "My celluloid companions, it’s only a few years
Since I knew you.  Something in us has faded.
Has the Terrible Fiend, That Ghastly Adversary,
Mr Old Age, Caught you in his deadly trap,
and come finally to polish you off,
His machinegun dripping with years … ?"**

Which is far too serious, so instead, I will call time with Roger McGough’s Vinegar,
"sometimes
i feel like a priest
in a fish & chips queue
quietly thinking
as the vinegar runs through
how nice it would be
to buy supper for two"***

Location; the far away decades

Pictures; from the collection of Andrew Simpson

*Mrs Albion You’ve Got a Lovely Daughter, Adrian Henri

**Where are you now, Batman,? Brian Pattern

***Vinegar, Roger McGough

All three from The Mersey Sound, 1967, Penguin

“Come .... where the sun shines longer” .............. down at the holiday camp

Now we never went to holiday camps which had nothing to do with my parents being sniffy.

It was just that Dad worked in the tourist trade driving people across Europe on sight seeing tours and was away from Easter till September.

And given that there were five of us I rather think mum never fancied taking us all away to a holiday camp.

That said my mate Jimmy always went every year with his mum, dad and brother Fred and always came back sun tanned with heaps of stories about the entertainments, the food and the sheer fun of the place.

They usually went to Butlins, and I think preferred Margate.

The first holiday camps had started up before the Great War but the real growth was during the 1930s and in the years after the Second World War.

The big players were Warner, Butlins and Pontins who played to their strengths offering an all in holiday which was affordable with no hidden charges.

But with the development of cheap foreign packages in the sun the traditional British holiday became less attractive and many were closed.

And last week my friend Andy showed me this brochure from Campers Ltd which family regularly visited

They had three camp sites, one in Kent a second on the Isle of Wight and a third in Norfolk.

I am hoping that this will be the first of a series and that subsequent posts will include memories and descriptions of all the camps.

Location; 1950s and 60s





Pictures pages from “Come .... where the sun shines longer,” Campers Ltd Brochure, circa 1960, from the collection of Andy Robertson

Remembering the magic of 1967

Now there are some books and records which we all find difficult to part with.

Some evoke powerful memories of lost loves and missed opportunities with each scratch on a favourite track a reminder of a past girlfriend or party that went on all night.

And many of my old books are just the same.

So in front of me I have a battered copy of the Mersey Sound, a collection of poems by Adrian Henry, Roger McGough and Brian Pattern which I bought in the September of 1968 just one year after its publication.

The year earlier my mum had bought me the LP of one of their performances which mixed the poetry with music and I was hooked.

Back then I was still at Crown Woods doing my A levels and revelling in everything from Shakespeare and John Donne to Thomas Hardy and Charlie Parker.

Like Susan in Willy Russell’s play Educating Rita, I soaked it all up, never pausing to be over critical just hell bent on reading, watching and listening to as much as I could.

And so back to the Mersey Sound.

I haven’t looked at in five years which is a shame because re-reading At lunchtime a story of love, ,Mother the Wardrobe is full of Infantrymen and Without You is to go back to being 17 again.

But that is not all, after all one person’s nostalgia is another’s yawn.

Instead it is to remember how funny and relevant many of the poems still are.

None will stand against the greats but that doesn’t mean they aren’t worth reading.

So I have set myself the task of going back to each one in the collection smiling at Roger McGough’s Vinegar*

"sometimes
i feel like a priest
in a fish & chips queue
quietly thinking
as the vinegar runs through
how nice it would be
to buy supper for two"

And remembering how I so wanted to be one of the

"Beautiful boys with bright red guitars 
in the spaces between the stars" **

But before nostalgia grips me in with its false rosy glow I shall conclude with Brian Patten’s Where are you now, Batman? which pretty much sums up why you should never look back

"My celluloid companions, it’s only a few years
Since I knew you.  Something in us has faded.
Has the Terrible Fiend, That Ghastly Adversary,
Mr Old Age, Caught you in his deadly trap,
and come finally to polish you off,
His machinegun dripping with years … ?"****

There will be those who mutter pretentious, some might be a tad offended but most I hope will laugh and get a sense of that decade.

*Vinegar, Roger McGough

**Mrs Albion You’ve Got a Lovelly Daughter, Adrian Henri

*** Where are you now, Batman,? Brian Pattern

All that was decent and safe in 1962 ........ the advert

Now we tend to think of advertisng in the past as a gentler form of selling us stuff.

But not so.

Looking at this 1962 advert, it pulls no punches in its determination to sell the raincoat.

It was published in the Eagle Comic in 1962 and was one of a number aimed at the readeship which was boys between the ages of seven to about fourteen.

In this particular edition there were also adverts for Sugar Puffs, a Sturnley Archer bicycle set of gears, Beech-Nut chewing gum and the Wiggli Ball from Weetabix.

In addition Wall’s Ice Cream were selling the “exciting Big Chief Moccasins” which came in kit form and cost just under six shillings, which you could get by sending the money with “any two Wall’s Ice Cream wrappers”.

And to complete the adverts, Shreeded Wheat were giving away “Free Champions of Sport Giant Colour Picture Cards”.

Most of the adverts were from food companies, of which three sold breakfast cereals.

But it is that raincoat ad which I like the best.

Adverts in the comic were often delivered in the form of a strip cartoon with a story so here the two children, go off to the fair, wearing their coats, which was very sensible, spend all their money, including their bus fare and walk home in the cold and the rain.

But they “were not cold”, because “We’ve got our Robert Hirst Raincoats on”.

And to reinforce the ad there was the message that “A Robert Hirst keeps you cosy and dry always – and each coat has a secret safety pocket for boys or a penny safe purse for girls ...... even a fleecy buttin-warmer if you want it”.

Concluding with “Ask mummy to let you see some in the shops” and mindful of being a responisble businesses added “And remember-always keep some money in case of emergencies”.

I went looking for the firm of Robert Hirst and found a listing and an reference to them in the Wiltshire and Swindon History Centre for 1960-62, but no indication of what it was.

So I shall go looking for that too.

Location; 1962

Picture advert from the Eagle Comic, August 11, 1962 from the collection of Andrew Simpson

When dialling a number meant just that, Graham's uncle's phone from 1968

In an age of mobile phones which can pretty much do everything you want this picture of a 1968 GPO standard issue household set brings back memories.

We have one here in our home and like the one in Graham’s picture it comes in one colour.

There were other colours, I remember ours in Well Hall Road was grey and the swanky people behind us had a white one.

There is something very reassuring about using a dial instead of buttons, and I only wish ours still worked.

But it was damaged long ago and now will only slowly complete its return half circle from the last number dialled.

Its successor the trimphone now looks less elegant and even more dated.  Ours was put in sometime around 1969, and I can’t say it was a success.

As I remember it was too light and had a tendency slide across the table when you were dialling and worse still could fall off the table as you moved around using it.

But at the time it came to represent all that was new and shinny and by the time ours arrived the GPO had become Post Office Telecommunications.

A decade or so later and I had my first push button set which was exactly like the one above but with of course a set of buttons, and finished in handsome grey.

Over the years new phones have come and gone including the revolutionary one which displayed the caller’s number.

More recently there has been a bewildering selection of cordless phones which we have bought and temporarily lost down the back of armchairs or on one memorable occasion in a pair of jeans.

So I am rather fond of the old sturdy dial a friend phones.  Graham assures me that the one installed in his uncle’s house in 1968 still works perfectly, “but no use if you call an answering machine” which I suspect is no bad thing.

Pictures; 1968 which I rather think is a GPO Telephone 711, courtesy of Graham Gill and the 1969 GPO 1/722F MOD Grey & Green Rotary Dial Trimphone Telephone by Diamondmagna

Wendy houses …… and a bit of social history

Today I leave myself open for a bit of ridicule and perhaps worse, but I can think of no better way to learn about our recent past than to wander around those pretend show rooms.

They offer you a vision of what your home would look like if you bought a heap of furniture, decorative kitchen utensils and that thing you can use to extract the core from an apple.

I wish I had kept all my old Habitat catalogues from the late 1960s and 70s, because at a glance they tell the story of what we thought were new, chic, and must have items.

I say we, but of course it was the designers and the companies who did the thinking and us, or at least me who did the buying and then tried fitting them into rooms full of hand me down furniture.

And in the same way I suspect the latest offerings will provide future historians much to write about.

But I wonder if they will be kind about the orange and brown 70s colour schemes and the uncomfortable chairs which were suspended from the ceiling along with bean bags and wine carafes.

Leaving me just to appeal for old Habitat catalogues.

Location; the past

Picture; John Lewis showrooms, Cheadle Royal, 2023, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

At the Golden Egg with memories of a time before now

Now, if you are of a certain age, the Golden Egg, along with Wimpey, Berni Inns and the Little Chef are what formed a meal out.

The menu, 1967/8

And for those who wanted something even quicker, there were the Lyons Tea Rooms.

So for all those who remember these culinary delights and all those who don’t, here is a piece of pure indulgence.

It comes from Andy Robertson who commented, “Do you remember Golden Egg restaurants of the 1960s?

I was having a bit of a clear-out and found this which I must have ‘acquired’ about 1967/8. 

The exotic on offer at 5/-, 1967/8

I can't imagine how I got it, and it is one of the naughtier moments in my history. 

It is made of a sort of hardboard and almost two foot across...took a lot of smuggling out!”

And not only is it a bit of nostalgia for our collective youth but a real insight in to what was regarded as the best to eat.

I had quite forgotten Alaskan Delight “Ice Cream Topped With Hot Chocolate Sauce or Maple Syrup”, Snowball “Meringue With Ice Cream and Topped With Fresh Cream”.  Or that the Pasta dishes on offer consisted of “Macaroni au Gratin or Ravioli au Gratin”

The Golden Grill ...... an imitator, Woolwich, 1979

And the food ranged in price from 8 shillings and 9 pence for Sirloin Steak down to 3/6 for Egg and Bacon, Cheddar Cheese and Biscuits at 1/6, with Bread and Butter at just 9d.

The restaurants will I guess have been franchised and like Wimpy were quickly copied.

I remember the Golden Grill in Woolwich along with the Eltham Grill and a vast collection of similar outlets in Manchester City Centre.

There will be those who disparage the  chain and their imitators but back then they offered good quality food at a decent price, and that did for me.

What I didn’t know was that when they began in the early 1960s each one was very different, with some having an Italian theme, others Spanish and some even Hollywood.

Added to which the earliest used handmade ceramics and modern materials such as coloured plastics and fibre-glass.*


Only later did they take on the same corporate image by which time a little of the idiosyncratic style had gone, like the eight foot high head of a chicken in the Edgware Road 'Golden Egg'.

Of course a few years later I discovered the Ceylon Tea Centre, and The Plaza and a whole range of eating places but those are stories for another time.


Location, the 1960s.







Pictures; Golden Egg Menu, circa 1967/8 from the collection of Andy Robertson and the Golden Grill, Woolwich, 1979, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

*Designing Britain 1945-1975 Matthew Partington, https://vads.ac.uk/learning/designingbritain/html/goldenegg.html

When the snow fell on Boxing Day and stayed till March .........

It was one of those throw away comments made at the end of a TV show last night which linked a a trailer for the weather forecast with an earlier piece on the Great Freeze of 1962-63.

Early morning, January 2009

The footage had shown the appalling weather conditions and prompted the question, how did we cope?

The snow had begun falling on Boxing Day which almost qualified it as a White Christmas, stopped I think the following day and then began tumbling out of the sky on December 29th locking us into nearly four months of ice and snow with the thaw only beginning in March.

Now when you are thirteen you take such events in your stride and after snow ball fights became boring there was always the game of pulling a wooden bench up the hill at Pepys Park and then descending down the slope.

Late afternoon, January, 2009

All of which had the added thrill that we might get caught by the park keeper who probably had more sense and was keeping warm in his hut beside a paraffin stove.

Come to think of it I don’t recall ever being challenged by one of the keepers in their brown uniforms as we risked life and limb.

But all of that was in the future, on that day in December I barely gave much of a thought to the snow.

It was late on a Saturday afternoon and already dark which made that swirling storm of snow just that bit more magical.

This I know because I still have the Eagle Annual which I got as a Christmas present and which I was reading in our kitchen as the events unfurled.

Ours was a big kitchen dominated by the stove in the corner which heated the water as well as the room.

I suspect it was almost as old as the house and had no thermostat which meant that when it had been on all day the water got so hot that dad had to draw some off.

The Eagle Annual, 1962-63

That was a regular occurrence but more than that there was that sizzling noise made from the water in the tank which was one of those reassuring sounds that seemed to guarantee all was well in the house.

That sizzling noise vied with the sound of the wireless which dad would listen to and which marked him off from mum who preferred the front room and the television.

So on cold winter’s nights you could slide down the Arctic like hall into the kitchen and be met by a wall of heat and Dad, which is how I remember that day when the snow began to fall.

Now I don’t doubt that in the rural areas things were grim with RAF air drops of supplies, farmers digging out buried sheep and the use of snow ploughs on railway locomotives.

But in south east London, life pretty much got on almost as normal.

Looking out over the Rec, 2009

The morning newspaper was pushed through the door, the milk was on the step and dad went to work and I walked to school.

For both of us there was nothing unusual about walking to work and school and although it was slippy I don’t recall there being much of a problem.

As for the rest of the house outside the kitchen, the front room was another warm haven and the remaining rooms, hall and landing were no colder than any winter.

Me in 1962

Dad prepared the hurricane lamps which he left in the loft to ensure that there was just enough heat to prevent the pipes from freezing, and we all had hot water bottles.

And after the first bout of excitement, the ice and snow became nothing special.

The other great freeze of 1947 was harsher and made worse by the post war shortages and the general weariness brought on by six years of war and a hard first few years of peace.

Location; 1962-63





Pictures; Beech Road in January 2009, the Eagle Annual 1962-63 and me in 1962, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

The summer of love …………. coming to a place near you

 It’s odd how slogans catch on and reappear.

2021

So here on Albany Road is “The Summer of Love”, which has appeared around Chorlton and I guess is linked to Covid and the hope that we have turned a corner.

Now I am an old duffer, born in the first half of the last century and “The Summer of  Love”, means something very different.

It is for me located in 1967, and remains something far removed from covid.

My Wikipedia tells me that “The Summer of Love was a social phenomenon that occurred during the summer of 1967, when as many as 100,000 people, mostly young people sporting hippie fashions of dress and behavior, converged in San Francisco's neighborhood of Haight-Ashbury. 

More broadly, the Summer of Love encompassed the hippie music, hallucinogenic drugs, anti-war, and free-love scene throughout the West Coast of the United States, and as far away as New York City.

Hippies, sometimes called flower children, were an eclectic group. Many were suspicious of the government, rejected consumerist values, and generally opposed the Vietnam War. 

A few were interested in politics; others were concerned more with art (music, painting, poetry in particular) or spiritual and meditative practices”.*

Which is a convoluted way of saying that plenty of young people across the West briefly turned away from the world of their parents into something different.

1966

I was just 17, too young really to be part of it and certainly too young to zip across to Haight-Ashbury, and “Turn on, tune in and drop out”**

Most working class young people from south east London, may have liked the idea, and even bought into some of the clothes and culture, but Well Hall in Eltham was never going to be San Francisco, and studying for A level English, and History and a re-sit in O level General Science marked me off as more conventional.

And in its way 1967 was just part of that bigger transformation that seemed to be going on during the 1960s, and has offered up that label “The Swinging Sixties”.  

It, like The Summer of Love doesn’t always bear deep scrutiny, because while there seemed a sense of expectation that anything was possible, there was still poverty, appalling housing conditions and inequality.

So for every Terrance Stamp and Twiggy, there were plenty of young people who still did mundane jobs, and whose aspiration was a nice house, a happy marriage and two weeks in the sun.

So much of that Summer of Love for me came vicariously in the form of music, newsreels and the poetry of Roger McGough, Adrian Henri and Brian Patten.***

Their poems was funny and relevant many of them still are.

None will stand against the greats but that doesn’t mean they aren’t worth reading.

So I have set myself the task of going back to each one in the collection smiling at Roger McGough’s Vinegar

1967

"sometimes

i feel like a priest

in a fish & chips queue

quietly thinking

as the vinegar runs through

how nice it would be

to buy supper for two"

And remembering how I so wanted to be one of the

"Beautiful boys with bright red guitars 

in the spaces between the stars" ***

Even then while I was angered by the Vietnam War, Apartheid and the way the Establishment continued to run things, I could never quite condemn the materialistic approach of my parents and grand parents.  

1970

After all they had lived through two World Wars and a Depression and saw the revolution in consumerism, and health care from the “cradle to the grave” as part of what they were owed, and were determined that my generation should grow up healthy, educated and free from fear.

Of course it never quite worked out like that.  The ever present threat of a Third World War and nuclear devastation  were always just a button away, and even then the gains made in working conditions and a better quality of life could always be taken away, as indeed they were during the following two decades.

And that rampant consumerism and the appropriation of raw materials on the cheap from the developing countries has played its part in global warning, and the continued poverty of some parts of the world.

So that Summer of Love has to be put into a context,**** but that said it was indeed something to have lived through, even if for me it was limited to the Scott Mckenzie hit, some great carefree summer days, and an unfulfilled desire for an Afghan coat.*****

Location; the 1960s

2019

Pictures; The Summer of Love, Chorlton, 2021, various Andrew Simpson's from 1966, 1970 and 2018, and the cover of The Mersey Sound, 1967

*The Summer of Love, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Summer_of_Love

**“Turn on, tune in and drop out”, Timothy Leary, 1966

***The Mersey Sound, Roger McGough, Adrian Henri and Brian Patten, 1967

 ****Remembering the magic of 1967, https://chorltonhistory.blogspot.com/2015/01/poems-from-1967.html 

***** "San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Some Flowers in Your Hair)"

The Golden Egg …….. appeal

Now, does anyone have a picture of a Golden Egg restaurant?  

It must be your own and not taken from the internet.

Added to which is thee any one out there with memories of eating at one of establishments please?

You can contact me via Facebook, Twitter, or leave a comment on the blog.

Thank you

Picture; from the collection of Andy Robertson, circa 1968

Remembering a different sort of holiday ……. Leysdown Holiday Camp, circa 1961

We never went to holiday camps, although plenty of my friends did, and while I was never envious of their week in the sun beside the sea, I was curious.

Even now, sixty years on I still associate Bognor Regis, Minehead, Clacton and Skegness with places my friend Jimmy went to in the summer, always coming back, with a tan and stories of the fun, freedom and “grown up” entertainment which was on offer.

From memory his family always went to Butlins, but there were other holiday camps and over the year’s friends have passed on pictures, brochures and memories of companies like Pontins, Warners and Campers Ltd.

They were very much of their time, and that time was the 1930s, 40s, and 50s, and while some still exist today, their time was anchored in the decades either side of the Second World War.

The first were already doing the business of providing  a holiday inclusive of food, board, and entertainment for a relatively modest cost before 1938 when it  it became compulsory for firms to provide paid holidays for their workers.

But by providing working families with holiday pay it made it easier for many to take a break, and while the war interrupted the growth of the holiday companies, as soon as it was over there was an expansion which carried on into the early 1960s.

In 1939, Butlins had just two camps, but opened another four between 1945 and 1948, adding one more in 1950 and two more in 1960 and 1962.

It is easy today to be a little dismissive of these holidays, which were quite regimented, but they did offer thousands of families an experience which might otherwise have been denied to them.

So, I must thank Brian Norbury for this picture postcard of “the Chalets at Leysdown Holiday Camp", which is typical of what you got.  Sadly, Brian was less than impressed, commenting,
“I spent a week long family holiday at this place in the early 60s, hopefully it no longer exists”, which is intriguing.

I shall wait with bated breath for Brian to elaborate, leaving me just to thank him and let you gaze on holidays from the past.

But perhaps I understand Brian's reflections, because according to one source Leysdown-on-Sea  is one of those places built on sand, sea and holiday makers, and while there "are several large farms surrounding the village, with a mixture of pasture and arable land, .... the local economy is primarily driven by tourism in the summer months, with many visitors coming from London. 

Leysdown has one of the largest concentrations of holiday parks in Kent, with many caravan and chalet parks. 

During the winter months the shops, clubs and pubs stay open, with the population of Leysdown, Warden and Bay View providing custom. 

In the past few years a boot fair has become a regular fixture on Sundays and there is also a market on Saturdays.

A very small hamlet up to late Victorian times, it was developed a little after the arrival of the Sheppey Light Railway in 1903, though grand plans for the establishment of a large resort with hotels never materialised. The railway was closed in the 1950s.*


Location; Leysdown Holiday Camp, circa, early 1960s, from the collection of Brian Norbury

*Leysdown-on-Sea, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leysdown-on-Sea

Stockwell ……..Winds of Change ……. living through the 1960s…… one to listen to

Now I lived the 60s, with all its brash new ways of doing things, from music to fashion and much else. 

But it was also the decade in which we seemed to be marching to a nuclear disaster with a backdrop of the Cold War, manifested  by the Berlin Wall, the Cuban Missile Crisis and countless nasty little proxy wars fought with the support of the Superpowers who used them as a form of shadow boxing, and many of which could have spilled over into a Third World War.

Of these, the Vietnam War was the most prominent, but there were plenty more in Africa, South America and Asia.

All of which is just a plug for another new Radio 4 series, which this time comes from the political historian Peter Hennessy who  reads "from his new study of Britain in the early 1960s.

Peter grew up in Nympsfield in the Cotswolds and, apart from the excitements of new music from the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, satirical TV in the form of That Was the Week that Was and the coming of the first motorways, those adolescent days were overshadowed by the threat of nuclear war. Not least in the form of Prime Minister Harold Macmillan’s top-secret nuclear-proof stronghold, code-named Stockwell, which was being built just a few miles away.

Written and Read by Peter Hennessy
Adapted for radio by Libby Spurrier
Produced by Simon Elmes

A Pier production for BBC Radio 4”*

Picture; Atomic bombing of Nagasaki on August 9, 1945, Charles Levy from one of the B-29 Superfortresses used in the attack, This image is a work of a U.S. Army soldier or employee, taken or made as part of that person's official duties


Stockwell ……..Winds of Change, https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m000823h