2018 I wonder what's in store

Well Hello 2018, when I was young 2018 seemed like forever away. I always imagined that after 2000 we would be wearing tin foil catsuits, little ankle boots and everyone would have platinum blonde hair cut in a very sharp bob.  We would be flying around on little jet ski type things and food would come out of a machine you hit buttons to order in your kitchen.  Obviously I was influenced by Lost in Space and Blakes Seven.

I never for one moment imagined home computers, iphones and people glued to their phones all the time, I never imagined snap chat, Face time or text messages.  Don't know that I think humanity has really benefitted from them, I loved getting proper letters with paper and ink, I enjoyed ringing someone just for a chat and I hate that when you go anywhere people are forever looking down at their phones instead of up at people's faces.

I came out of Marks the other day (that's M&S, not a bloke called Mark) and, as I am wont to do, smiled at a lady going in.  I heard her say to her husband, how nice to be smiled at by a stranger, no one seems to smile much anymore. I had a think and realised that she was right, mostly people are looking at their damned phones.  What has become so important that we cannot wait until we are home before getting a message?  Maybe my life is so ordered and boring I don't feel the need to check a phone every few minutes. IDK

I also looked at how life has changed and boy has it changed and not all for the better.  I remember playing outside even when it was dark, in fact it was far more fun playing hide and seek in the dark. Our street gang didn't fear being moved along or arrested if there were more than 5 of us. No one kidnapped me and sold me to slavers, despite warnings to the contrary, I didn't get worms from eating a dropped sweet, nor did I get clogged up with chewing gum by swallowing it, nor did I get worms or lose all my teeth from eating sugar butties.  I didn't go blind from sitting too close to the telly, maybe because I only watched about an hour of it every day and some days none at all.  Contrary to all my mothers advice, I have never done anything that has me poke my eye out.

I remember coming home at night feeling knackered, proper, played all day, ran my feet off knackered, in the summer I came home after all day at the beach, knackered, I only used my bedroom to sleep, no telly in my room, I read under my blankets and looked forward to a Birthday, Whitsun or Christmas for new clothes. Saturday's I had my pocket money which I earned by doing jobs for my mother.  I never had a takeout meal, my Mum made dinner and a pudding every night and we sat at the table to eat, no elbows on the table, no talking while eating and always thanking her for the meal and washing up afterwards without being asked.

My family didn't have a lot of cash to spare, my parents didn't buy fast food, we ate what was in season and had a little of good meat rather than a lot of rubbish.  I always wanted fizzy pop, but they didn't buy it, so I had Andrews liver salts stirred into orange squash and told to drink it fast, I never caught on that it wasn't fizzy pop but I sure had regular bowels. 

Same for Ribena, mine was blackcurrant jam in a tea strainer with hot water poured over it, school lunch could be a bag of rhubarb and sugar, currants or cold faggots, it all depended on what was leftover.  My Mum bought my clothes from a neighbour, trouble was for me, she was all pink and frilly and I was more your jeans and dirt type of girl.  I had loads of flouncy, ric rac trimmed frocks with matching boleros that I hated,  they were usually in lemon or pink and being a redhead I always looked as though I was being boiled.

I cannot remember being moody because we didn't have things, we just got on with it.  I never raised my voice to my mother, ever, not because I was afraid, I just wouldn't, she was my Mum and I just couldn't ever imagine yelling at her or being cheeky to her.  I loved and respected her far too much.  I hear some young children today and the way they speak to their parents and just think that something has gone wrong.  My son was brought up much the same way I was, though he was never, ever smacked, he was told he was loved and while he might do something I didn't like, I always loved him.  He was disciplined, but it wasn't though a smack, I explained why I was disappointed in what he had done and he would be grounded or a toy would be taken away and it worked. I simply cannot imagine smacking him. I made sure to never swear in front of him nor has he ever seen me the worse for wear.

I am of the mind that a child should know that their parents are always in control, that they can always turn to their parents, that whatever they do, they are loved.  I see some parents and the way they speak to their children is, in my opinion, shocking, they are indulged, allowed to watch all manner of stuff on the television, plonked in front of the telly and left to get on with it. I don't think that's a good idea. take them out, run around, go to the park, the beach, read to them, play with them, but don't use a television or computer to babysit them.

We all played in our street, games like hopscotch that would be chalked on the road then rechalked when the rain or wear wore it out.  Skipping, american skipping with elastic bands that you could put around two bins if there weren't enough people,  Two balls, this meant throwing them against a wall doing nifty moves while singing a rhyme.  Some people managed three or four balls but I couldn't get the hang of it. Being me I blamed the balls, I spoke to them and often bit chunks out of the solid one's as punishment. yes, I was a very odd kid.  We played hide and seek, whole gangs of us hiding in a small close, British Bulldog and a game called running on where someone would call out a letter and a subject and we would be allowed to run across the road, those that didn't know were out.

Living near the beach, just a few minutes walk away, we would live at the beach all summer, our mother's fetching plates of chips or dinner on a tray much to the holidaymakers envy.  We would have our own spot by our steps, spend the days playing football, building boats, cars and castles out of sand, dodge the oil patches and end the day by trawling about for discarded pop bottles which we took back and have the deposit to open on chips.  It was a blissful time to grow up and a lovely place in which to do so.

So at this time we are half way through 2018, it is going to be a wonderful year, already it has started so well.  We have a new puppy called Tally, a standard poodle of all things.  We love her so, so much, more of her on a letter blog.  For now, a cuppa.