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Dear Journal — 3 Comments

  1. I never wrote any of it down and as a result, I only recall becoming 'aware' around sixteen. Then suddenly I'm facing into sixty and it all just happened so bloody fast somehow.

    • That is so true that it's frightening.  You wake up one morning and suddenly realise you're a pensioner [well, in my case anyway].  Where the fuck did all those years go?  Even worse, the older you get, the faster time seems to pass.  I see a film advertised on television with 1980 in brackets, and think that at least it's a recent film and then realise it's fucking 35 years old!!!  I hear of some 64 year old bloke and sneer that he should have know better at his age, until I realise that I am older and he's only a young lad.  It really is scary.  Even more so because mentally I am still in my twenties/thirties.

  2. Ah, the 70s.  What a great time it was to be young.  Who on here doesn’t remember that long, long, long, hot, hot, hot summer of 1976?  Baah!  Youngster!

    As one of my best buddies (with whom I traversed the 70s) often says, “It really was the last of the good times.”  I’m sure everyone says that about the time when they were young, but I actually don’t think that the 1970’s were the best of all the good times – they were just the last of them.  Looking back I think that things really started to go downhill about the mid 1980s onwards.  Sorry all you 1980s and 1990s veterans, but you really did miss the boat, no matter how much of a great laugh you thought you were having, you were just a little bit too late, believe me (I was actually still quite young then, too, and they just don’t compare).  No, when I look back at the way things were even before my time, when my parents were young, they look even better than the 70s to me.  And as for the days when my grandparents were youngsters – i.e. around the 1920s and 30s, well, I think they must have been the very, very bestest of bestest times to be young, free and single.  It’s only when you get back to the very early years of the last century that things start to look a little tougher.  Then (probably following WWI) they peaked as people suddenly realised that life is short and made to be enjoyed whilst you can, before starting a slow and steady decline away from all that fun, with the balance tipping, as I say, around the 1980s.  Which, coincidentally, is about the time that the health zealots first started to raise their ugly heads, really got the bit between their teeth, and started demanding that we all live their proscribed, fun-free lifestyles.  Now, I wonder if there's a connection there?

    Just my take on things as far as “good times” are concerned.  Time for bed now!

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