Tell us about a sensation — a taste, a smell, a piece of music — that transports you back to childhood.
It’s the school holidays. Somehow mum and Dad work the child care shift between them, mum works nights at the hospital, whilst dad is a butcher during the day at the Wall’s factory in Hyde, just outside Manchester. That means after brekky dad’s off to work and mum is off to bed. Time for the TV. Every morning the selection is the same. It’s the holiday schedule and we love it. Short bursts of magic. Gives mam a break and then we will eat lucnh before heading off outside for the rest of the day to catch up with schoolmates and play Football or Cowboys and Indians or Soldiers.
Each of those summer time progammes can be brought to my mind in an instant by the theme tune.
I can still sing them now many moons later or hum the melody where there were no lyrics.
These tunes may have no significance to you whatsoever and I am wondering whether providing clips is worthwhile. Having wondered, I have decided I am going to share them purely because for me this is a selfish trip down memory lane.
The morning would always begin with Robinson Crusoe and this lilting melody.
We would watch enthralled every week as our hero would try to find new ways to adapt to life on a desert island.
Then came the madness that was the Banana Splits.
I am sure at some deeply subliminal level The Banana Splits are responsible for most of my Anarchic behaviour in life. That’s my excuse anyway and I’m sticking to it.
Next up were the foreign films, which varied depending on the day, if memory serves me right.
White Horses. All I remember is the song and a beautiful young girl. Oh and Horses. White ones. Lots of them.
The Flashing Blade. Lots more horses and Cavalier types charging around and fighting in badly dubbed English. Marvelous.
Belle et Sebastion
So there it is. It is interesting to try and somehow convey this time and I suspect that the use of You Tube in some way takes from the narrative. It may have been more challenging for me to take you back to that time without the aid of the music itself.
This whole experience of revisiting that time has left me feeling wistful and I look upon the young Mr Scribbles in that photo (3rd from the right and seated) and cannot reconnect with that moment at all. I have a memory of then that is more vague than the TV shows I write here about. I remember it being an unusually sunny day and a neighbour wanting to take a photo of our play gang. That’s it. I don’t know who he was and I can only identify some of the people in the photo. Family members.
That young Mr Scribbles was looking forward and here I sit 40 odd years later looking back.