Village Voice August/September 2012 | Page 13

THOSE WERE THE DAYS Someone gave me a newspaper article about carefree childhoods, the way things were different when we were young. It brought back many memories of growing up in Harrow in the fifties. Thinking about the article (you know, teachers threw blackboard rubbers, we fell out of trees, ate all the wrong things, etc), I started wondering, what were the risks back then? Surely it wasn’t all cosy and safe? When I was about nine or ten, I was sent up the road to the shop round the corner. A few doors along, I was called over by an ancient lady standing at her gate, who wondered if I could get her something from the shop (I didn’t know her, but things were different then). On my return with the goods, she took me inside, and to cut a long story short, kept me there for two or more hours, talking about her son who had died in the war. I was brought up to respect adults, and I couldn’t find a way to cut across her reminiscences and leave. My parents had everyone out looking for me. We were always told not to talk to strangers, but of course, this was a grey area for me. I had seen the lady before, so she wasn’t technically a stranger. The main difference between then and now was, of course, the motor car. We had it instilled into us how to cross the road safely, always at a zebra crossing, despite the comparatively empty roads. My family didn’t have a car, nor did most of our friends and neighbours, nor indeed, the majority of the population of ‘our world’. Consequently, the perceived danger was from what were then, as now, referred to as ‘perverts’. They didn’t drive either, they hung around the streets and recreation grounds. If a ‘pervert’ had been reported in the local rec, we were told not to go there for a few days. (We did, anyway, eager to see what a ‘pervert’ looked like.) The absence of cars meant that it was extremely rare for children to be snatched off the street. We knew not to take sweets from strangers; my best friend at 12 was actually stopped on the way home from school by a man who offered her sweets to go with him. She ran like the wind! Looking up comments about my old teachers on one of those ‘Reunited’ sites recently I came across an oblique reference to our old maths teacher (a scout leader, and the same one famous for throwing the blackboard rubber). It mentioned, in passing, the boys’ reluctance to join him in his ‘stationery store’ – that’s something the boys never shared with the girls at the time! At school, the cane was the ultimate punishment. It was usually boys who were caned, I can’t ever remember it happening to a girl, although I have never forgotten one particular event where the headmaster got it totally wrong: he caned a boy for hitting an older girl. She had made a very unpleasant bigoted remark. I know who should have been punished. I’m pretty sure the boy didn’t tell his parents – you didn’t in those days, and unlike today, it was practically unheard of for parents to show their faces at school except at the open evening. Carefree? Yes I suspect those days were, in many ways, although back then we didn’t have these lovely rose-tinted glasses I’ve just picked up from the optician! Belle Walker 11