The 25 Hour News and the 35 Year Blues
A couple of weeks ago, I (inspired by ‘er upstairs) invited you to share your memories of where you were 25 years ago. Today it’s time to take things back another decade to 1980, 35 years ago. This time round, I was twelve-going on-thirteen, a crucial cusp of one’s life indeed. Childhood fancies were being superseded by the awakening of adolescence and a realisation that Rosanna Chapman had breasts (she was in my class, and that’s all you need to know), though podgy puberty – as illustrated by the accompanying snapshot – put paid to any amorous expressions.
I had inherited a record player now that my dad had purchased a state-of-the-art hi-fi system, which meant my pocket-money could now be spent not at the newsagents, but at the local branch of Woolies and their 99p 45s. The Police, The Jam and Blondie were turntable faves, as were scratchy old Beatles singles unplayed since my parents tied the knot, a poignant pastime in a year that ended with a horrible assassination in New York. Well, that was me – how about you?
Petunia Winegum
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March 7, 2015 at 9:56 am -
I was 6 years old for five sixths of 1980 – getting to grips with riding my Raleigh Boxer around the neighbouring avenues, drives & closes. I began the year by winning a Christmas Card competition entered through school I could barely remember creating when the winners were announced (I think there’s the prize-giving photograph somewhere)
I was excelling at school without knowing why, was watching Top Of The Pops, Pipkins & Grange Hill (old habits die hard). My memories of 1980 are clearer than 1979 – of which I wrote about here http://retardedkingdom.blogspot.co.uk/2014/10/1979.html – but not as clear as 1981.
I remember it being a long hot summer, though my age then may be exaggerating that memory – I do remember my Dad trying to teach me how to play cricket before the silly sod bowled me using a proper corky ball which ended up full on in my face.
Our house didn’t get a ‘hi-fi’ (big silver Sanyo stack system) until October 1981, but my Grandad upgraded to his Panasonic stack system in ’80 and this meant we could ‘tape records’ and get one of those new-fangled cassette players in my Dad’s Signal Yellow mk2 Escort Popular Plus (upgraded from a Mini 1000 in early November ’80, which due to its colour we christened ‘Black Sambo’).-
March 7, 2015 at 9:59 am -
Blue Contek, orange BASF and transparent Winfield – the iPods of 1980!
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March 7, 2015 at 11:05 am -
I got the old Fidelity record player in ’81 too – and permission to play the collection of old 45s too. Which meant I discovered See Emily Play (as well as loads of Beatles, Stones, DC5, Tamla Motown etc). The oldest 45 was ‘It Doesn’t Matter Anymore’ and the most recent Automatically Sunshine & Back Stabbers (which was even in Stereo!). The regular purchases appear to have dried up circa 1968 though… nothing on Apple for instance.
It was fantastic to be discovering the 60s at the same time the contemporary charts were full of incredible pop music – the first and second highpoints of pop music & related culture was a fine apprenticeship! -
March 7, 2015 at 12:48 pm -
“orange BASF”
I actually cried, i think, when TDK came along and undercut the tape market and became omnipresent …never trusted them funny ‘jap’ tapes. Age 13/14ish I went on a school Xchange to Germany and one of my first purchases was a 5 pack of PROPER BASF Orange tapes….even before I bought alcohol. Other kids were trying to buy Porn Mags (which at that time were openly sold at news stands…and I do mean ‘open’) but I skipped German school the first morning and walked into the village record store.
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March 7, 2015 at 2:37 pm -
I couldn’t resist it – a concession for cassette nerds…
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March 7, 2015 at 2:45 pm -
” a concession for cassette nerds…”
That’s almost soft porn…and just look at the build quality of the BASF compared to the others…and it *even*had lined space on it to write more than just ‘Ted N Punk’ (which was the title of my own very first ‘taped off Radio Top 40′ tape. Had “Luton Airport”, “Rockabilly Rebel”, “Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick”, “Cool For Cats” on it if I recall aright…so 1979?)!
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March 7, 2015 at 7:55 pm -
When me and my friend Jim started a “synth duo” in 1982-ish, we had very very little money, and used to buy these awful cheap cassette tapes from a shop called “It’s A Gift” which was all the cheapest tat you could imagine. They had strange brand names like “Silver Shadow” which made us giggle because it sounded more like a pack of rubber johnnies- a term which itself seems to have passed out of the lexicon entirely.
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March 7, 2015 at 2:37 pm -
Without checking, I think my first batch of blank tapes were the 1981-vintage Boots own-brand (still have the full R1 Xmas ’81 Top Forty on a couple), plus a three-pack of TDK D-C90s – but the grey/white ones. By Autumn 1982 we had established that the (newly ‘face-lifted’) TDK D-90s were a good combination of reliability and reasonable prices – having in the meantime had some Memorex – some of which (in ‘smooth’ cases) were good and some of which had a traumatizing tendency to have subdued playback and self-destruct.
I do have a handful of Orange BASF’s – I remember one of chart music circa Jan 82 (it began with ‘Here Is The News’ by E.L.O)-
March 7, 2015 at 2:55 pm -
“1981-vintage Boots own-brand ”
The Boots Own Brand of just about everything- be it wine making gear, camera film or cassette tapes- H A D an enviable reputation for being quality and excellent value for money through my childhood.
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March 7, 2015 at 10:08 am -
I was also 12 that year and also felt the stirrings of imminent teenage desire awaken. I’d also just moved school and had gone back to being among the smallest of small pupils. At that age I was still short and slight, and a target for bullies.
My memories also include the new ability to buy things with my own money, earnt through a paper round that I’d had to lie about my age to get. I still wasn’t really into music or records. Or clothes. But my taste in toys was changing, and changing in a way which would have repercussions through subsequent decades. That was the year Sinclair introduced their first personal computer, the ZX-80. And I wanted one.
I’d already spent 18 months learning to program BASIC on a Commodore PET, and could comfortably write simple games. I never actually had the ZX-80 I wanted. By the time I had enough money, it was the following year and the ZX81 was released. I had one, then subsequently a Spectrum, and it was with these that I stumbled towards being a programmer, then later a software developer.
But I didn’t know that then; it was just another school year, another long sunny summer filled with childish activity and carefree abandon. The sort of halcyon memory that makes us yearn for its loss. Its never-to-come-again unattainability, that given The Magic from our daydreams, we would almost all return to.
Those with The Magic but more pragmatism would probably think “Ack – no way. Not puberty again”, and choose a slightly later summer for their return. And still others would wryly shake their heads at even this impetuosity, and yearn for their own return. A more conservative and practical daydream of perhaps returning to a fortnight last Tuesday when all the ironing had been done early and they spent the afternoon watching tv (“we’ll not see the likes of those days again”).
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March 7, 2015 at 10:34 am -
I was 21/22, living on my own for the first time, then sharing a house with a random succession of male and female regulars from the local pub for weirdos. I was going from temp job to temp job, until one US organisation said they wanted to keep me indefinitely, cutting out the agency middleman. It was an oil company and for a temp, I was earning good wages, until they found a permanent person (it was filing work, dull, dull, dull, but paid the rent and left me lots of play money).
That play money went on lots of gigs – independent punk bands and exotic underground weirdness – and clothes as I was going through a very flamboyant phase. And being a temp, I wasn’t restricted by the work dress rules… until:
The company decided to have a huge party to celebrate the discovery of a new oil field. I did not expect to be invited, but was, and was told I could bring a guest. This was just after Valentine’s Day. I took the object of my affection to the party and he said he had received a mysterious card. I quoted the verse I had written inside and he threw his arms around me and said “It was you!” and kissed me. He then apologised for embarrassing me in front of work colleagues. I told him I didn’t give a toss, the people I liked already knew I was gay (this being 1980, so a little on the novel side). So we snogged. This was on a Friday night.
When I arrived at work on the Monday 8 a.m., I was called straight into the office by my boss (a kind Irish man). He said there had been “talk” about my behaviour at the party. I said I had been having fun and he pointed out that it involved another person. I said “Oh you mean the kiss? That was just bravado.” He replied “Oh, so you’re not gay then?” And I said “Of curse I am”. The conversation ended when he said that was really none of his business but it had upset some people and from now on, could I tone down my appearance because, I love this bit: “It frightens the Americans.”
For some reason, I felt this was quite an achievement. I eventually left and got an even better paid job with a travel company where they practically encouraged me to be outrageous because all our customer-facing work was on the phone. They saw me as providing entertainment (which I didn’t mind). Those were great days to be alive and young and free to experiment.
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March 7, 2015 at 12:38 pm -
“It frightens the Americans.”
Almost…just almost…recompense for all the years of ‘backs against the wall, Lads!” jibes, I reckon….and that bit about being gay in 1980 being a ‘bit novel’ was that famous Brit understatement, right?
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March 7, 2015 at 12:47 pm -
Yes…. I never understood the “backs against the wall lads” comments – didn’t they realise that left their genitalia exposed to our voracious appetites? Sticks and stones and all that. As for British understatement, most gays I knew then were very closeted, but it was the punk ethos that gave me the confidence to say what I thought, mean what I say and just be who I am. It was still fun to have frightened Americans though.
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March 7, 2015 at 10:42 am -
My musical preference then was Stiff Little Fingers. I think they were punks from Northern Ireland started in 1977 and still going, so I find. They were very good to jog to or exercise indoors when it was cold or wet. They look a fierce lot of guys even now they are into grizzled middle age. My age was…..then. Still plodding at an Open University degree, to replace what I thought I should have been allowed to have a go at much earlier. Summer Schools were fun, especially the last one at campus at Norwich. Summer schools always had a lascivious press, as usual, in those days, for ‘liasons dangereuse’ and making ‘bum prints’ etc. Fantastic diso arena there and a lake to jog round too. Plus the Sainsbury art gallery. Just a complete getaway from everyday life. No wonder students go a bit crazy at these places. Thanks Mr Wilson for starting the OU.
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March 7, 2015 at 10:47 am -
In 1980 I was recently divorced, and left with about £400 I decided to hell with everything. Bought an open ended rail ticket from England to Istanbul. Stopped off en route in Munich, Salzburg, Zagreb, Belgrade, Sofia, and eventually Istanbul. In 1980 of course the Iron Curtain was still very much in place and visiting these communist countries was an enormous culture shock. Istanbul was amazing (and still is – visit it if you haven’t already). So that is the bare bones of my 1980. Many adventures, met many interesting (and some frightening) people. Literally a trip of a lifetime, though my much later visit to western China runs it a close second.
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March 7, 2015 at 10:57 am -
1980 – February 1st. Started my own law firm on my lounge table in Shepperton. My faithful secretary/ bookkeeper/ amanuensis by my side and a filing cabinet or two in the corner. 40 loyal clients and a bank loan. Scary but happy times. 35 years on and still have my own law firm although different but still faithful practice manager and bookkeeper by my side for the past 30 years (and a host more loyal clients whom I cherish). Chairman of my local Round Table, married but no children then. Real bank managers, real local businesses, an atmosphere in the country of achievability – where did it all go wrong? We never really recovered from the early ’90s recession and the defenestration of Maggie.
Ho hum – roll on death, retirement is too far away!
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March 7, 2015 at 1:25 pm -
“and the defenestration of Maggie”
True but the older i get and the more I see and hear of current ‘politicians’ (of whatever ilk) I do find myself pining for The Grey Man-the one who ran away from the circus to become an Accountant. You KNOW a country is in trouble when you start hoping John Major will return….
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March 7, 2015 at 7:25 pm -
John Major was and is greatly underestimated. Following a giant made him seem less than he was.
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March 7, 2015 at 7:46 pm -
I met John Major a few times as I lived in his constituency at the time. He was very warm and attractive, something that never came over on TV. I wasn’t that surprised when I heard about the Currie affair, though surprised at who since she was always a trouble maker who should have kept quiet since it was before he became PM. Norma Major was lovely too, often seen in the town and supermarket and she certainly didn’t deserve to suffer for Edwina’s need to sell a book. Whatever his faults he was a patently decent man and a lot better than greedy Blair and the odious Cherie. I remember him proposing a parallel currency that could be used by businesses and that could evolve in time into a common currency that countries could join or use when they were ready. Of course it idea was ridiculed but it would have been a lot better than what they ended up with. I think he was very much underestimated too, but having Thatcher on one side and Blair on the other made him look less than he was but history will be kind to him I think.
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March 7, 2015 at 11:36 am -
In 1980 my first wife – now long since buggered off with the next door neighbour – was pregnant with our daughter so in the late summer we popped over to the West Coast of the USA and Hawaii, as one does.
After a few days in LA, we spent a week on Waikiki Beach and then back to San Francisco. I remember making the mistake of getting a bus into downtown LA at night for a look around. After a while I got the feeling that something wasn’t quite right – then I realised we were the only white people in sight. We left. Slowly but steadily!
If you really want every single gory detail of the entire year, you could read these chapters 13 and 14 of my memoirs which you can find here :
https://chascmusic.wordpress.com/my-life/Or if you’re really sad, then all of my first 33 years. I must get around to writing up the rest sometime!
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March 7, 2015 at 12:06 pm -
http://i62.tinypic.com/158235.jpg
I was 12 and at Secondary Modern being bullied mercilessly all day, every day…probably because i was FAT (44″ waist), spoke ‘posh’, was southern Brit Middle Class in Sister-Worrying-“moi granddad and his afore him had craAb boos” Norfolk, had devoutly Xian parents and wore NHS Specs. Or it might have been because I was a total jerk and had the IQ and diction to back it up. I have written before about how, in my final year at school, I discovered that I had a hidden talent for gratuitous, really really nasty, violence and put the bullies in A&E or “Casualty” as it was still called back then.That said, looking at that pic of me back then (actually a year or so after) I would have felt an uncontrollable urge to smash my face in too.
Most of all I HATED the Assemblies when some Old Boy would return to regal us with his tales of single-handedly conquering some hill top in Upper Outter Bacdwardstan or of flying Spitfires in The War and who never failed to say “School Days, best days of my life”. I could have cheerfully swung for them (and I mean that ‘swung’ in the original sense of the saying- ie been hanged for their murder).
Oh and my Form Tutor at the time was also the music teacher and he hated me, tone deaf as I am. Mind you, as he was later convicted of buggering choir boys, I should perhaps be grateful I wasn’t one of his ‘special’ pupils….
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March 7, 2015 at 2:30 pm -
I too had the old NHS specs, though you’d struggle to find a photo of me in them. I finally got rid of them in 1983; the following year, Morrissey suddenly made them ‘trendy’.
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March 7, 2015 at 4:22 pm -
“Trendy” eyewear, as in “Buddy Holly begat Elvis Costello who begat Tom Watson MP”?
Somehow, I don’t see someone idolising Twenty-Stone Tommy enough to want to copy HIS style of specs a generation on, in emulation…
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March 7, 2015 at 2:00 pm -
Living in S Wales (boo) reaching thirty with a 2 year old daughter and son arrived just before Xmas. Boring job, but became troubleshooter later which turned out really well and prepared me for excellent job in St Louis Missouri. Kids done good. Still with she who must be obeyed. Wish I knew then what I know now! But still happy days.
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March 7, 2015 at 2:01 pm -
Feeling a bit elderly after reading some postings.
I was on one of my moves then, I think it was 1980, from soft south up to Wetheral in Cumbria, & loved it. Started cycling again. Playing darts & drinking too much beer. Got locked out by my wife one icy night for coming back from a Carlisle ‘sticky carpet’ at 4.00am.
Still into vinyl, in the early ’70s I’d made my own player with a beautifully engineered Acos Lustre arm, and a rather less well engineered BD1 turntable. Mainly ’70s stuff, & a liking for Joni. Still got most of it & recently repaired the old Marantz deck to play some, but as a widower now it’s not the same. Made the same mistake buying Ammonia Avenue on cd recently; played the original tape so many times in the car in African heat mid ’80s that it stretched beyond use. Never did get rid of the hum with the Acos; it’s still up in the loft with old amps etc.
Had a good friend, where is he now, with a cupboard full of old blues records. He patiently taped much of it for me, Bessie, Big Bill, all sorts. sadly, a few years later I found my teenage son had recycled the tapes.
Much as childhood school holidays, those days in Cumbria seemed to be full of sunshine. -
March 7, 2015 at 3:04 pm -
I was looking forward to early retirement.
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March 7, 2015 at 3:43 pm -
Steady but dull job in distribution. No serious girlfriends, but an interesting experience with another mans wife. Second motorcycle, a rat bike painted black but quick enough. A couple of spills on bus deposited diesel sending me spinning down the road on my back, which was more annoying than painful. Serious parties and watching a minor gang war from the sidelines. Spent a lot of time not fixing crash damage off my face, so apart from that all a bit of a blur. That was my 1980.
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March 7, 2015 at 5:03 pm -
January Week 1 saw a change to working pastures new, as a budding servant of the public – if only I had known how much the public didn’t, and probably never would, really want me. So I saw in the New Year bells, and a couple of days ‘holiday’ thereafter, in the former employer’s office, clearing my desk before leaving. B’ your fruits are you known, and so on. Distinctly remember the last day, going out of the office at 12.30am, popping the keys in the letter box, and rolling up to the new place at 8.30am.
Bought a flat and moved out of home. Sure Dad was glad to see me leave at long last. No radio, no telly. A turntable, a Philips amplifier, an Amstrad tape deck, couple of speakers and a set of headphones. An industrial shelving unit full books on hobbies and inspirational spirituality – the Blocked Dwarf’s sensitivities would probably be such that he might have a fit if I were to describe them as theological tomes.
Music, probably bad taste for the time, but at least catholicly so in its embrace. Fleetwood Mac, Moody Blues, America, John Denver, Wings, 2nd Chapter of Acts, Larry Norman, Mighty Flyers and Barry McGuire, the latter few courtesy of Word Record Club. (> Blocked Dwarf, remember that? )Survived on grilled sausages and bacon rolls ; Vesta Chicken Supreme and Beef Curry – sort of reconstituted soya and sodium glutomate, I think; Batchelors Savoury Rice – add to water and heat; my trusty Breville toasted sandwiches – diced spam or tinned chicken in white sauce + chopped orange and chocolate spread; and, of course, Pot Noodle. Nothing esoteric there
If it didn’t come in a packet with simple instructions written on it, it never got past the door – I didn’t use the oven once in the three years I was there. I’d probably have died if there hadn’t been a fish and chip shop round the cornerChurch activities took up a fair bit of time. Quite good times, on the whole. Walked everywhere, although I had a Corsair 2000E stashed at the folks for longer distance hillwalking trips and the like. Summer evenings, you could leave work at 6pm, and be playing pitch and putt at the links with friends by 7.30, followed by an icecream and a walk on the beach. And in the darker evenings, those were days when you didn’t have to think twice about calling up your friends at 9.00pm, to go and visit till late, with a mug of coffee and a decent supper.
No trendy aspirations at all in my little backwater. So I suppose I was a bit of a somewhat boring, and rather sad, git, really. And nothing much has changed there, has it?
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March 8, 2015 at 6:43 am -
Ahhh, Vesta meals! Still available, and… *whispers* …I love the occasional Paella or Chow Mein as a treat.
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March 7, 2015 at 6:06 pm -
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March 7, 2015 at 7:47 pm -
A year older than me. I would have considered you a glamorous older woman
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March 7, 2015 at 6:10 pm -
“inspirational spirituality – the Blocked Dwarf’s sensitivities would probably be such that he might have a fit if I were to describe them as theological tomes”
Inspirational spirituality = whiskey, right? Sensitive is not a word commonly juxtaposed with The Blocked Dwarf. “Short”, yes. “Grumpy”, yes. “Rock for a head”? Always. But “sensitivities”? No…unless you were referring to that unfortunate little rash I once acquired after a wet Friday night on the Reeperbahn? But the less said about it…..
I would use the standard scholarly definition of a ‘tome’; ” A bound volume of such weight that one might effortlessly bludgeon a dog or small child to death with it. Or may suffice as protection from the strike of a broadsword” (Now you know where all that ‘The Word Of God’ is my shield and armour guff comes from!)
Don’t remember a WRC, but I do recall Vesta (cos my parents were too poor to buy them) and Breville (which my parents also couldn’t afford and my 12 year old heart also lusted after).
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March 7, 2015 at 6:33 pm -
I was 18 and working in my first career – engineering. I had realised that this was not the sort of thing that I wanted to do for the rest of my life, so I was in the process of applying for the Armed Forces. I had my first car – a 1975 Mini in orangy/yellow and a motorcycle and life was pretty good. I was earning a good salary, despite the monotony of working on the shop floor on day and night shifts and I wanted to see more of the world – even if it meant a pay cut and I duly did ‘take the Queen’s shilling’. I well remember the tape players of the day, I had one in my car, randomly attached to the underside of the front passenger shelf, as was the fashion in those days (do you remember how everyone used to upgrade their cars with better stereos and speakers, carrying out upgrades, courtesy of the local car accessory shop).
More innocent days in many ways…
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March 7, 2015 at 7:12 pm -
After all the excitement of our evacuation from Teheran in 1979, we had a weeks R&R in Greece, flew to Brussels where my husband had been offered a job, spent one night there when he came home to tell me not to unpack! He had been offered twice the money to go to Germany so we packed up again, with cat, and off we went, 4 countries in 10 days. We settled there for the next three years but in 1980 we spent three weeks with friends from Teheran in California. Travelled to Mexico, back to Los Angelos for Christmas then up the coast to San Francisco finishing in Las Vegas for New Year. My husband was offered a job in California but he didn’t fancy living there although I did, I loved the climate. For tales of Teheran I would need to cover 1978/79 when the trouble started. In San Francisco I really was told I spoke very good English for being Scottish! I couldn’t convince her any different.
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March 7, 2015 at 7:41 pm -
Carol42,
Your experience with accent in San Francisco brings back memories of LA in ’78
Calling home to the UK in the evening still involved an operator. This then normally led to apparent operator entrancement and ‘Oh you’re English’ & ‘the conversation’. Not bad for a Whitley boy away from home.
A contrast to ‘Oh your English’ followed by an imagined spit on ones boots experienced in Springburn a few years earlier. -
March 7, 2015 at 7:55 pm -
“For tales of Teheran I would need to cover 1978/79″
I thought Pet had already given you papal dispensation to ‘extend’ the date parameters inorder that you might recount the epic tail of “NOT Without My Cat, Abdul” ?
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March 8, 2015 at 1:37 am -
I will try and sort out the more amusing and sometimes frightening bits without making it too long. Loved your comment, I think ‘Not Without My Daughter’ was pretty successful so maybe I should try ‘Not Without My Cat’ ! If you think I was mad an American friend came back from the States to collect her white rat. The plane a huge noisy C5 I think it was called, was like Noah’s Ark.
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March 7, 2015 at 7:46 pm -
I was 14, and at the end of the year I did my first real work- operating followspot at the town’s rep theatre on the panto. With the money from that (now into 1981, just) I bought a (crap, to be honest) video game. The next year, I would buy a ZX81.
Having hit my teens at the end of the 1970s, I absorbed the liberal social values of that time and, relevant to what is often discussed here, have been amazed at wathing them vanish around me and be replaced by an illiberal social terror. I’ve just been denounced (predictably, again) by a couple of commenters in Another Place as a paedo, because I still take the view that underage sex isn’t automatically bad, which pretty much everyone other than the Mary Whitehouse Mob believed in 1980, but is now akin to saying you don’t think God exists in the High Middle Ages.
My views in general these days largely result from the future having turned out vastly different in its social values from the one I expected in 1980 or thereabouts. Despite having thoroughly studied the social processes that got us here, it still leaves me feeling kind of shellshocked.
Anyhoo, at that time culturally I was an immense Gary Numan fan. For kids today, music is cheap; back then, it was the occasional single, albums for Christmas, or DJ’s talking over half the record on Radio 1, and I think people have forgotten thus why the DJ’s who became objects of ridicule in the 1990s were such significant celebrities at that time. I still remember the feeling of hearing Are Friends Electric on a tinny transistor radio for the first time, and being mesmerised by this strange, unearthly sound. It’s just a song to the young ‘uns now, but to me in 1979 it was like listening to the future.
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March 7, 2015 at 8:29 pm -
‘For kids today, music is cheap; back then, it was the occasional single, albums for Christmas…’
Too true; music has been reduced to merchandise. Walk half-an-hour to the nearest Woolies for a single it’s taken a fortnight to save up for, find that records have gone up 5p and then walk all the way back home to collect 5p before returning to Woolies to acquire an object of immense value. Nobody would view any music worthy of such dedication today.-
March 8, 2015 at 6:41 am -
Petunia, if you can’t download it now, nobody bothers!
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March 8, 2015 at 6:40 am -
“I’ve just been denounced (predictably, again) by a couple of commenters in Another Place as a paedo, because I still take the view that underage sex isn’t automatically bad…”
A view the law clearly takes into consideration too, as the female is rarely punished.
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March 7, 2015 at 10:01 pm -
Pushing 30, I’d just moved into the world of IT, an accidental, if immaculately-timed move, but one which was to secure the rest of my life financially. In at the birth of desktop computing and closely involved in its early expansion and exploitation, managing the development of the then-largest PC network in Europe made me very popular with vendors – as long as you stayed one page ahead in the manual, everyone else thought you were some kind of genius, a concept I quite shamelessly encouraged and exploited.
Bought my second brand-new car, a black Toyota Celica, costing just over 5 grand, and emblazoned with one of my sets of personalised plates – well, it was the 1980s !
Unlike many here, I can’t claim any interest in the music of the time, all the focus was on the day-job and on participating in national-level motor-sport at weekends. On a treadmill, yes – but it was simply a means to an end – I’ve been enjoying that ‘end’ since I retired 21 years ago.
By 1980 I’d been married for 5 years, heading for 40 later this year – yet she still seems like that sweet teenager to me (just don’t tell her I said that).-
March 7, 2015 at 10:21 pm -
Interesting that you’d been married for five years in 1980; in an attempt not to put off slightly ‘younger’ visitors from contributing (myself included), next time this feature comes around, I think I’ll take it back just five years to 1975.
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March 8, 2015 at 8:11 am -
“I think I’ll take it back just five years to 1975.”
a dark dark year in the Dwarf Annals. A veritable annus horribilis. The year my parents ruined my childhood….and moved us from Buckingham England to Norfolk. Bitter,me? Whatever gives you that impression? The ,then non-existent, A11 is the grave of my childhood.
Oh well, if you do do 1975 I shall have to recount some of the ‘Cider Top Deck With Janet’ type incidents on life in a Northernmost Norfolk RURAL village primary school…and censor them accordingly as not to give the landlady palpitations.
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March 8, 2015 at 11:07 am -
As I was only seven, I suspect my recollections of 1975 will be on the tamer side! Mind you, my imagination was as lively as ever.
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March 8, 2015 at 11:25 am -
I too was only a tender youth of 7 summers when I was CRUELLY dragged kicking and screaming from the Eternal Summer Paradise of Maids Moreton and was forced into the rainsoaked Babylonian Captivity of a ‘life’ (if it can be called such) of Norfolk. Mind you, those Norfolk village “mawthers” (‘girls’) certainly played a mean game of “doc’ors and noorses”, I probably got to see more underage genitalia than the local Priest.
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March 9, 2015 at 5:23 pm -
I will try to sort out some Teheran tales for that one but it might be a bit long!
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March 9, 2015 at 5:46 pm -
No worries. You could post them in instalments if you like. The great thing about this strand is learning more about the often amazing lives of the commentators.
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March 10, 2015 at 8:34 pm -
Springtime in Teheran was lovely, perfect weather, a good social life, wine was good and cheap while vodka was 70p a bottle, we used to buy it by the crate. Great restuarants from all nationalities and even an English pub, time to visit the lovely Isfahan, the mountains, lovely parks and a great casino/ restuarant. We loved it and never wanted to leave. This is just to let you know what it was like in Spring 1978. We heard rumurs of trouble and demonstrations in downtown Teheran but no one had seen anything, nor were we unduly worried as the Shah seemed so secure, food was highly subsidised and education opportunities for women encouraged. Time to enjoy the wonderful fruit too, huge white peaches and nectarines, wonderful black grapes and large melons we filled with vodka to soak in for a starter before our whole leg of lamb which cost all of £2. Since most of us went there for financial reasons we had regular parties when someone cleared their overdraft. Our apartment block had all nationalities living there which was great fun. Anyway no one saw the clouds gathering that soon enveloped the whole city, I will write about how it developed and some very funny incidents before our evacuation later. Just let me know if you get bored!
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March 10, 2015 at 9:09 pm -
March 10, 2015 at 9:48 pm -
You might enjoy aspects of Adam Curtis’ BBC Blog about BP and Iran, Carol42
http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/adamcurtis/posts/post-
March 10, 2015 at 10:25 pm -
Of course I know something of that background and I don’t try to pretend it was good for everyone, we were young and having a good time and, to be honest, I can’t say we gave it much thought. I can only speak of my time there and my own experiences. I know some of my Iranian friends were worried about Khomeni and said the mullahs were corrupt but then without middle class support the revolution could not have happened although from those I spoke to what they wanted and expected was not what they got. I can understand some of it as the ‘warm bodies’ contracts took almost anyone and there was some very crass behaviour. Students we were friendly with wanted more democracy and more respect for their religion, certainly not the theocracy they got. I was just trying to paint a picture of what it was like for us at the time. Any more tales will be on the amusing incidents in that year not political! Most Iranians were great and I do think they were better off than they are now, I have met a few in exile since we came back and they are bitter that their revolution was hijacked. From what I hear Dubai is quite similar now for ex pats and Lebanon was too before it fell apart.
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March 10, 2015 at 10:59 pm -
No politics intended. Just thought you might like the footage of the times…
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March 11, 2015 at 2:57 am -
Yes, it was interesting to read, like most I knew little about it at the time and didn’t remember anything pre Shah. So much about the Middle East has had the consequences we see today though I don’t think the Shit’e/Sunni war will ever end no matter what happens in the West. If everyone else withdrew they would still fight each other to the death for supremacy.
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March 11, 2015 at 8:04 am -
There’s an episode of “Danger Man” I watched recently – a show made in the mid-60’s. In the particular episode there is a leader of an emerging country who is hypochondriac and John Drake (Danger Man) has to consult with him about his Secret Agentry, and the “leader” does this from his hospital bed. This had always seemed a rather strange plot-line for the script and seemingly quite an unlikely one. When I realised that Mosaddegh used to do exactly that, it was clear where the script-writer had got his inspiration from…
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March 12, 2015 at 9:03 am -
How’s about this then?
https://twitter.com/oldpicsarchive/status/575794638977634304
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March 7, 2015 at 10:22 pm -
Commodore PETs?
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March 8, 2015 at 9:21 am -
The ‘domestic’ PCs like the PET and Acorn weren’t my scene, I was in the business usage arena – although I’d had a ‘liberated’ North Star Horizon, a dot-matrix printer and a dial-up acoustic modem at home from the late 70s (valuable museum pieces now). Some fellow old-timers here may also remember the ‘Superbrain’ with its monitor, keyboard and floppy-disk drives all in one box, which preceded the first IBM PC and MS-DOS, the ‘Model T Ford’ of the IT world, which went on to change rest of the world. Happy, frantic days.
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March 9, 2015 at 5:32 pm -
1980 would have been the year the first young lady of my acquaintance told me that she had been raped when younger. She said it was by her Uncle. I never quite pinned down how old she would have been at the time, but a post-pubertal teenager for sure. I recall she was quite proud of having had a letter printed in Cosmopolitan wherein she had complained about Women’s Lib and how she liked wearing flowery dresses so why should she have to dress like a man? I rather fell in love with her at the time but she seemed determined to have relationships with almost anyone except me. I think it was her that taught me that young women wanted to be pursued rather than worshipped, not that I was ever willing to learn the lesson… or perhaps I just didn’t want it enough…
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March 9, 2015 at 5:47 pm -
‘I rather fell in love with her at the time but she seemed determined to have relationships with almost anyone except me.’
You must have manufactured that T-shirt I have a dozen of.-
March 9, 2015 at 5:58 pm -
The only 70’s record I recall about rape was by Alice Cooper, and the song was the story of the man being raped and then left freezing in Mexico, which location always seemed somewhat counter-intuitive, but perhaps my interpretation was rather simplistic.
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March 11, 2015 at 12:12 pm -
In the first half of 1980, I was at university in Germany; by October of that year, I was back in Cambridge for the last year of my modern languages degree and turning 23.
Reading the above comments, I suddenly feel really, really old.
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March 15, 2015 at 6:20 am -
Picking up Carol 42’s point, Iran still is very fashionable, I spent some post revolutionary time in a hidden underneath ground night club in Shiraz and the women…. A lovely place run by nuts
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March 12, 2015 at 9:28 pm -
They women were very fashionable and attractive, rarely wore even headscarves let alone Chadors. When they did start to wear Chadors as a precaution they still wore all the latest fashions and would flick the Chador open to let people see. Must admit though it was largely middle class Iranians we mixed with so we were probably unaware of the really poor areas.
Music, probably bad taste for the time, but at least catholicly so in its embrace. Fleetwood Mac, Moody Blues, America, John Denver, Wings, 2nd Chapter of Acts, Larry Norman, Mighty Flyers and Barry McGuire, the latter few courtesy of Word Record Club. (> Blocked Dwarf, remember that? )
If it didn’t come in a packet with simple instructions written on it, it never got past the door – I didn’t use the oven once in the three years I was there. I’d probably have died if there hadn’t been a fish and chip shop round the corner
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