In the fifties the government was more concerned
with running the country than worrying about kids. No one cared about
us. So we could get away with almost anything. There was little traffic
on the roads, so getting on your bike and exploring was safe. The only
danger on the roads then was getting your wheel stuck in the tram lines.
As for fireworks, when I think back my blood goes cold at what we used
to do.... and chemistry sets, say no more.
Fire work night.
Next to Christmas, fire work night was the day we all
waited for......In the fifties there were none of those silly rules about
how old you had to be to buy fireworks. If you had money you could buy.
For the young Einstein.
Small ads in some of the comics let every school boy into
the secret of making stink bombs. Many a family had to move to a new house
after experiments went wrong.
A typical summer holiday.
A summer holiday on the beach. I can always remember summer as warm and sunny, winter as cold and snowy. In truth it was mostly the other way round.
Just a few of the many proper fireworks.
There were proper fireworks then. Bangers that could destroy
large buildings, rockets that could bring down aircraft and jumping jacks
that could put a group of girls into orbit.
Before Currys went electric
For £19/5/- you could badger your parents into buying
you a racing bike (Dynamo lighting £4/8/9 extra), for Christmas. The
saddle bag was essential for carrying your John Bull puncture kit and any
fruit that you might have scrumped.