Remembering the 70s - Poem Image

Remembering the ’70s

Remembering the ‘70s

 

I was six at the start of this decade,

By the end, I was into my teens.

It’s a time I remember as funky,

With lots of great years in between.

 

Flowery shirts with flowery ties,

A difficult mop of long hair.

Bell-bottom trousers with bright orange seams,

And tank tops of colourful glare.

 

Men smelling great with the great smell of Brut,

High Karate for those who were flash.

Tweed for the ladies and Yardley for Grans,

Or Charlie, if short on the cash.

 

Jam butties with cheese, the snack of the day,

Washed down with a glass of Corona.

Toffos and Spangles and Bazooka Joe gum,

Wagon wheels, the size of Verona.

 

I remember on Fridays, the Alpine man came,

Delivering my favourite pop.

And searching the park for empty drink bottles,

Cos you got ten pence back from the shop.

 

And fifty pence spends, if you cleaned up your room,

That could buy you a whole load of sweets.

Black Jacks and fizz bombs, a Liquorice Dip,

And a ten-penny bag full of treats.

 

Refreshers and Drumsticks, a choc Walnut Whip,

Curly Wurly, fruit salad and Nux.

Bar Six, Tooty Frooties, a Horror Bag snack,

And a copy of Whizzer and Chips.

 

Skates made of metal that strapped to your feet,

Resulting in knees full of sores,

Clackers, the string that held two plastic balls,

And were finally banned by the law.

 

Spirograph, View-Master, Dinky toy cars,

Barbie and Action man dolls.

Ludo and Cluedo and Airfix warplanes,

Scalextric, Stretch Armstrong and trolls.

 

Chippers and Choppers and orange Space Hoppers,

A mullet to make you look cool.

Duffle bags, Duffle coats, a peg for your wellies,

To keep them together at school.

 

Sunday night baths full of blue Super Matey,

Vosene to tackle the hair.

Flannel pyjamas and blankets on beds,

To fight off the cold in the air.

 

Dunlop Green Flash, the rage on the streets,

To go with your new Falmer Jeans.

Lord Anthony jackets in beige corduroy,

Would complete the mid-seventies dream.

 

Three channels were all that we had on TV,

Each craving a child’s allure.

With Tizwas and Swap shop and Skippy the Roo,

Basil Brush, Mister Benn and much more.

 

The Clangers and Playschool and Rainbow and How,

And Crackerjack showing at five,

Catch Candy, John Craven, the kids from Grange Hill,

And Runaround … nnnow to survive.

 

A guy called Steve Austin, The Bionic Man,

Each programme would give me a rush.

The Bionic woman, I have to admit,

Was the source of my very first crush.

 

The Bay City Rollers, all Tartan and teeth,

A band that made every girl swoon.

The Osmonds, The Jacksons and Staying Alive,

And Grease with its memorable tunes.

 

Hide and seek, and the short three-day week,

The cold winters foggy or grey.

The longest hot summer of ’76,

And a fab Butlin’s Camp holiday.

 

That time of my life was exceedingly good,

I’m so glad I was actually there.

And if I could choose to keep one little part,

It would, without doubt, be the hair.

But when I recall all those glorious years,

Though it may be through rosy-tinted glasses,

I cannot but help have some sadness inside,

As I think how the time quickly passes…

 

 

 

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