Those were the days

Cycling the 2.8 miles to school in all weathers as you needed to be 3 miles away to get the free bus pass.

Some days I must have sat in class in wet clothes.
Same for me. Parents both gone to work when I left for school so no lift for me to Senior Secondary - it was less than 10mins cycling, but sometimes I must have got soaked.
 
Reflective armbands worn for the 10 mile* hike to school in the dark winter mornings.


*After checking with Google Earth, it's about 0.7 miles but I did only have little short legs. ☺️
Walking to school !
That dosnt happen much today given the amount of cars outside schools.!
 
Same for me. Parents both gone to work when I left for school so no lift for me to Senior Secondary - it was less than 10mins cycling, but sometimes I must have got soaked.
I used a bin bag with holes cut out for head and arms. Got just as wet sweating .
Cycled to work for 3 yrs on shifts before I got my first car
Roads were empty then ,would not like to do that today.
 
…and since OP was about food…

Speaking with food in mouth was, and remains for me, an absolute no-no (Eeugh). And chomping gum ‘open-mouthed’ (see numerous football managers) is just as bad - as my Dad would say ‘I don’t want to see what you are eating’. Both just disrespectful.

And shovelling food into your mouth using fork with prongs facing upwards and in right hand was a No-No - indeed there is a correct way to hold a fork in your left hand (prongs down with forefinger down the handle and so not like a pencil) and only occasional reasons for fork in right hand. And my dad was an enforcer.

Aside…we taught our children how to hold their knife and fork properly, and once when they were young and we were eating out a mum on the next table told her children to look and see how ‘these nice children were holding their cutlery properly’ (much parental smugness ensued 😋)
 
…and since OP was about food…

Speaking with food in mouth was, and remains for me, an absolute no-no (Eeugh). And chomping gum ‘open-mouthed’ (see numerous football managers) is just as bad - as my Dad would say ‘I don’t want to see what you are eating’. Both just disrespectful.

And shovelling food into your mouth using fork with prongs facing upwards and in right hand was a No-No - indeed there is a correct way to hold a fork in your left hand (prongs down with forefinger down the handle and so not like a pencil) and only occasional reasons for fork in right hand. And my dad was an enforcer.

Aside…we taught our children how to hold their knife and fork properly, and once when they were young and we were eating out a mum on the next table told her children to look and see how ‘these nice children were holding their cutlery properly’ (much parental smugness ensued 😋)
Was eating in the olden days made such a miserable experience because the food was so bad?

I remember eating at elderly relatives houses as a kid and it was just a joyless experience.

Pretty much everywhere else in the world sitting down to eat with friends and family is a time to talk, laugh and enjoy good food together.

But not in Britain, oh no, you will be chastised for holding your fork at slightly the wrong angle 🤣

Imagine the horror of eating with no cutlery, eating with just your hands and sharing wonderfully colourful foods with your hands.
 
We used to have a creel for drying clothes hanging off the ceiling above the fire place in the dining room. Raised up and down on some weird pulley system. That’s when ceilings were 10 foot high.
 
Was eating in the olden days made such a miserable experience because the food was so bad?

I remember eating at elderly relatives houses as a kid and it was just a joyless experience.

Pretty much everywhere else in the world sitting down to eat with friends and family is a time to talk, laugh and enjoy good food together.

But not in Britain, oh no, you will be chastised for holding your fork at slightly the wrong angle 🤣

Imagine the horror of eating with no cutlery, eating with just your hands and sharing wonderfully colourful foods with your hands.

Mother-in-law wouldn’t go into McDonald’s without her own knife & fork in her bag. To be honest, getting her in there was a miracle.
 
Mother-in-law wouldn’t go into McDonald’s without her own knife & fork in her bag. To be honest, getting her in there was a miracle.
No cup and saucer taken as well?

I remember going into a Wimpy's in London with my mum when fast food was very much in its infancy. A cup of tea in a cardboard cup was too much for her 😄. To be fair, she is used to it now but back then 😱
 
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Was eating in the olden days made such a miserable experience because the food was so bad?

I remember eating at elderly relatives houses as a kid and it was just a joyless experience.

Pretty much everywhere else in the world sitting down to eat with friends and family is a time to talk, laugh and enjoy good food together.

But not in Britain, oh no, you will be chastised for holding your fork at slightly the wrong angle 🤣

Imagine the horror of eating with no cutlery, eating with just your hands and sharing wonderfully colourful foods with your hands.
Yep. I think it was the dull food rather than the stuffy British attitudes that sucked the joy out of mealtimes. I've spoken to dad about it recently - they weren't ignoring products that they didn't recognise; the the shops just didn't stock them.
The only place to see exotics like peppers was if you were lucky enough to be given the opportunity to eat Chinese or Indian.
In other parts of the world, spices were currency. In the UK and most of Europe it was salt and sugar.
 
Was eating in the olden days made such a miserable experience because the food was so bad?

I remember eating at elderly relatives houses as a kid and it was just a joyless experience.

Pretty much everywhere else in the world sitting down to eat with friends and family is a time to talk, laugh and enjoy good food together.

But not in Britain, oh no, you will be chastised for holding your fork at slightly the wrong angle 🤣

Imagine the horror of eating with no cutlery, eating with just your hands and sharing wonderfully colourful foods with your hands.
Correct knives and forks is one thing…speaking with your mouth full is disrespectful and I‘d rather not see the speaker’s food and risk getting food spluttered on me 👍 And that was how I was brought up and how it maybe used to be - a bit more respect for others back then.
 
We got our first fridge in 1965 after moving from our 1 bed, room and kitchen to a brand new 2- bed council house, milk went sour very quickly in warm weather, we were told sour milk is very good for making pancakes.
I had always shared a bedroom with my older sister until I was 13 then thankfully she got married and I finally had my own room.
Mum and Dad slept in the living room in a fold-down bed settee.
Our kitchen was only 4-foot wide by 12 feet long. Our toilet was actually in the kitchen at the back r/h side, it was 3-foot square and only contained a toilet pan and cistern, no sink.
The only hot water was a gas Geyser over the kitchen sink, no central heating or double glazing, just a large cast iron coal fire range in the living room. No heating in the bedroom except for a paraffin heater.
Recall the four of us sitting terrified listening to The Man In Black [ not you Bill ] horror crime stories on our wireless, a radio that was powered by an accumulator acid-filled glass battery that had to be charged up by the local garage.
Eventually, around 1953 we got a Black and white 12-inch TV, only the 1 channel to start, we were soo excited.
Only one electric wall socket additional power was taken from adaptors plugged into the big centre light '
We still had gas lamp posts outside and lanterns in closes/passageways.
We walked to school by ourselves, rain hail or snow at play times and lunch breaks we were sent outside no matter the weather, we had covered shelters to play in.
I think we had 35 in my class, we used ink, pens with nibs, Inkpots on our desks and blotting paper.
1958ish me top row centre and 1952ish me bottom row far right.
 

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Taken to see my first football match in 1958.
In those days some of the players went by bus because they were skint.
There were no perma-tanned agents either.
Shirts were without advertising.
Big crowds. No stewards. No trouble.
 
Early 1960's my brother and I, whilst being driven between grouse beating drives, would sit on the front bonnet of a battered old Land Rover tightly holding onto the one handhold each side [put there for that purpose]
Probably about 6 adult beaters crammed into the back and three in the front.
Bouncy rough tracks, fantastic fun.
All for 7/6d [35p] a day
Same period of time I once earned £1/2/6p for caddying three rounds in one day.
The three rounds probably accumulated 7 and a half hours work.
 
Taken to see my first football match in 1958.
In those days some of the players went by bus because they were skint.
There were no perma-tanned agents either.
Shirts were without advertising.
Big crowds. No stewards. No trouble.
My dad took me to a Raith Rovers game on a Saturday afternoon when I was about 10
I spent the whole match saying "Can I go and play golf now?" "Can I go and play golf now?" "Can I go and play golf now?"

He never took me again
 
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