I grew up in a different world. Kids were allowed to have fun, and most unusual for anyone born after 1970 to understand, we were allowed freedom. Jeffrey Epstein wasn’t invented until 2013, Jimmy Savile was still a national (vomit) treasure, even though there was not one person in the entire nation to whom he didn’t ‘give the creeps’, and Rolph Harris played with his (own) didgeridoo. The clergy at that time were (apparently?, superficially?) still more engaged in worship and community work than in fiddling with little boys and Harvey Weinstein was thinking about a career in movies. Even Harrods was just ‘the best department store in the world’, before devolving into the London Sexual Abuse and Rape Centre under Mohammed Fayed’s later stewardship.

Basically, all this shit was happening in the early 60s but it was either ‘not talked about’ in decent society, mainly because a high proportion of ‘decent society’ were engaged as perpetrators of what would later become crimes; or no-one believed it was occurring.

So children played on the streets. Without minders, carers, nannies or armed guards. We just ran around, dodging the cars (most of the time), running down alleyways to our mates’ houses and, essentially ‘running wild’. My parents were good people. Caring, loving, devoted to their family. But in 1963 that apparently included operating on the ‘enough rope to hang themselves’ ethos. Ok, my brother was 3 years older than me and, unlike me, he was pretty much ‘born sensible’. You could trust Rich in any situation. He was blessed with the common sense that, genetically speaking, he should have shared with me. Genetics just doesn’t really work that way though. But if we were together, my parents knew he would do the right thing, even at 10 years old.

And the most fun we had, the best of all ‘freedoms’ was going out on our bikes. Because at 7/8 years old, with that wonderfully ‘limited world view’ which stretched all the way from Gants Hill Roundabout to Valentines Park, as boundaries of the ‘known world’, we could go ‘anywhere’. Long as we avoided the main roads. And long as I LISTEN TO RICHARD!!!! Yeah, good luck, Richard. But we went down to the Roading River, to ride around the densely wooded banks (known as ‘the race track’) and our other favourite was ‘the dump’. Which was a dump. Literally. But we found amazing stuff there. Though ‘amazing when you’re 7 has a slightly different meaning from the adult interpretation.

Bikes gave us freedom. A feeling I still get every time I get on a bike now. Electric, ‘normal’, someone else’s, doesn’t matter. You get on, you can ‘go anywhere’!

So we’re always keen on Lila and Joey riding bikes. We bought them bikes a couple of years ago, we got them lessons to ride them and we love them on them. Even though Joey has issues with the process. As he does with any process which involves listening to people. But he’ll get there. Lila is proficient. And they’ve now outgrown their bikes. So this afternoon we’re all going to Halfords for new bikes. It’s Lila’s birthday on Wednesday and Joey’s next month, so we’re getting biked up. I promised Lila that she could have… ‘gears’!!! Because I remember how big a deal that was for me. So Joey will have gears too, obviously.

And I reckon I’m more exited than either of the kids about this.

Happy bike day

A xxxx