Growing Up in the North in the '60s
Growing up in the North of England in the 1960s wasn’t glamorous, and it certainly wasn’t part of the "Swinging Sixties" you often hear about on the telly. We weren’t out in mini skirts or dancing in Carnaby Street — life was a lot more down to earth where I was.
Things were harder then. Money didn’t always stretch far, so we made do. Clothes were handed down or repaired, not thrown away. If your jumper had a hole, your mum stitched it. Nothing was wasted, and everything had value. My mum was a great one for keeping stuff like empty boxes, in case they had a use, bits of string, anything really.
We did have closeness — to our families, our neighbours, and our communities. Kids played out in the street till the sun went down, and no one had their nose in a screen all day. Life was slower. Simpler.
It might’ve been tougher in some ways, but it was rich in things that matter. You didn’t have much, but you weren’t alone so there was more of a closeness.
Having said all that I am glad I don't live there any more.
Things were harder then. Money didn’t always stretch far, so we made do. Clothes were handed down or repaired, not thrown away. If your jumper had a hole, your mum stitched it. Nothing was wasted, and everything had value. My mum was a great one for keeping stuff like empty boxes, in case they had a use, bits of string, anything really.
We did have closeness — to our families, our neighbours, and our communities. Kids played out in the street till the sun went down, and no one had their nose in a screen all day. Life was slower. Simpler.
It might’ve been tougher in some ways, but it was rich in things that matter. You didn’t have much, but you weren’t alone so there was more of a closeness.
Having said all that I am glad I don't live there any more.
