My Childhood was Sublime.

Driven by my good friend Rob. I want to try and capture those heady days. I hope I do it justice. I feel this post may take a while to write and for me to be happy with it. It might be a long read too. Right now it is 1147hrs, Saturday 8th March, I am in an Executive Lounge at Gatwick about to fly to Egypt, for a week of sun.

Flex much. I will no doubt mention at some point that I am continuing this post sat at a poolside bar as the sun goes down somewhere in my peripheral vision, I may even tell you the temperature, just to really rub it in.

I have been writing notes on my Kindle Scribe (my second flex and we are only three paragraphs in) to make sure I get this one right, although that's subjective, as these are my memories, my perspective on those days so will it ever be 'right'? In truth, I really want these words to make you think of those days, have your own memories, smile a bit, no a lot and do it all with fondness. They are gone, we cannot have them again, but we can celebrate them, we can reminisce, we can laugh, we can even shed the odd tear and I am going to have a bloody good stab at doing all of those. I am sure you have all seen those social media posts about how kids in the 1970's and '80s were out all day, without their parents having a real clue where they were or had been, how they would only go home when they were either hungry or the street lights came on, how they would cycle for miles, make dens, climb trees, find ripped pages from soft porn magazines in the bushes (not a euphemism), explore abandoned houses and drank from a hose when thirsty. Well. It's all true. I was one of those kids. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QVpBzSsSlBo This clip sprang to mind when I made my notes and wrote 'it's all true', granted it isn't really linked, but it is a superb clip and film.

Skip to 1 minute 24 seconds to maybe get a slight glance in the way my brain works. Who's your daddy... Some background, to set the scene as all good (!) writers do. What do you want to know? I was born, I grew up... no wait, that's from Interview with the Vampire. (If this stays in the edit, I will be amazed) I grew up in Hampshire in a small village, as it was then, known as Bishop's Waltham, a town, as it is now, steeped in history, named in the Doomsday book and having a palace, albeit a destroyed one. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bishop's_Waltham_Palace

Post WWII the areas of housing that dated back to Victorian times were condemned, levelled and eventually replaced by a carpark, and a new estate was built of houses with large rooms, indoor bathrooms, downstairs cloakrooms, gardens front and rear, communal grassed areas, on street parking and even garages. A modern Utopia. It was, and is, named Ridgemede Estate, my home between the ages of 2 and 13. I have written about that home and my relationship with it so I won't repeat, if you are a faithful you will have seen those posts, if you are a newbie, firstly, where have you been, and, secondly, go have a read through the archives, 1986 in particular. https://www.my11yearplan.com/post/_1986

Ridgemede had play and wooded areas, it housed the junior school, (it now has the infant school too), conker trees and interestingly a significant number of similarly aged families and in turn children. The estate has roads named after tree species, Oak, Willow, Elm etc. and my road, Pine.

The houses backed on to 'squares' and each area had its own feel and, in a way, own rules, I can see those of you that lived there in those times nodding in agreement. It is hard to explain, but going to a square that you didn't live on was akin to visiting a different city, you were welcomed, always, but you were an 'out of towner' and locals ruled.

There are, by my reckoning, seven of these defined areas within Ridgemede, which makes it sound huge, but in fact it is about a quarter of mile across its longest diagonal and covers an area of circa 0.04 square miles, or 96,000 square metres. It seemed so much bigger back then. It was a magical place, in a magical time. Scene setting done. Hop in, I have a hot tub time machine, the DeLorean is in the garage, broken flux capacitor, make sure your safety harness is fastened, keep your hands inside the car at all times and of course, scream if you wanna go faster.

I was born in 1972, I'll let you do the math, be kind, I have had these years, you may not get them. As such I am really a child of the 1980's. I started that decade at 7 years old and ended it by turning 17 and joining the British Army. It was a sublime and strange decade, music and fashion changed significantly from the '70s and continued to do so throughout the whole decade, as did local and world politics. It really was a pivotal decade and one that I think is held in great esteem, with fondness and reverence by those that lived through it and even those that did not. I am looking at my notes and bullet points and I cannot think of where to start, they all blend in to each other, what is my clear starting point? Ha, starting point, I have prattled on for nearly five minutes of reading time and now I want to 'make a start'. I think being chronological is pointless, when you consider any times you reminisce with friends, on any subject, you time hop, and are led by the chat. I am sat at a poolside bar, it is circa 25C, suck it up. In 1986, not long after my mum passed I cut my hand on Gary C's birthday, I wasn't invited to the party, but it was a BBQ at his house and he lived at 'The Top' and I was up there hanging around. It was summer, we were playing on the grass. Lisa was 'the girl' we all wanted to make our lady and for some reason I caught her eye. We were being young teens, mucking around in the grass, friends were bringing out burgers and hot dogs from the BBQ.

I was lying on my back and Lisa was sat across me tickling me, bear with, this is nearly 40 years ago so I am not sure why, but the next few minutes are pretty clear. I rolled to my right in a bid to throw her off and then rolled back to my left with energy, as anyone who is being tickled can muster and my left hand flew out as a consequence and landed on piece of broken bottle which cut the fleshy bit of my palm, below my thumb badly, very.

I was bleeding heavily, this wasn't a band aid situation. Those with burgers, covered in tomato sauce were throwing them away at the sight. Gary's dad, Neville got his car and took me to get sorted, the cut was bad, requiring a general anaesthetic, operation and many stiches with an overnight in hospital. It did get me loads of sympathy, although also meant I had to attend my mothers funeral in a sling and massive bandage. I have a prominent scar there, which came in handy in my Army career, as whenever we were being drilled and ordered to 'Left Turn' I would stroke that scar with my fingers and know which way to turn. Yes, I can hear you ever faithful, 'surely you know your left from your right' and yes, I do, but unless you have ever stood in three ranks and been asked to coordinate your body, brain, feet and keep the dressing correct with circa thirty other men you will never know how easy it is to forget and how often you'd end up facing your mate instead of looking at the back of his head. August 2025 I have been meaning to finish this piece for a while now, but was struggling with the flow of it.

And of course the flex about being somewhere hot as I started to write it and you not being has lost its edge, as we are having an amazing summer with sunny days and high temperatures.

I am just going to let the words flow and see where we go. Apologies if I repeat pieces from other posts, but would it be one of my posts without some repeating and tangents? Every year the fair would come to town and this was a magical time for me, I loved every aspect of it, the excitement of seeing what rides were arriving, knowing that come the Wednesday evening it would open and we would have four days of unbridled joy. I can hear the music, always 'Funky Town' by Lipps Inc. on a loop it felt like. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z6dqIYKIBSU The smell of the diesel generators, candy floss, doughnuts and hot dogs, the recently cut crass being stiff and spikey underfoot, almost straw like. I can never remember it raining when the fair was in town, maybe that is me romanticising it, but genuinely I don't think it did.

Winning goldfish by throwing a dart into a giant playing card and then having to buy a tank, gravel, fish food and an ornament for the fish to swim around that the vendor of the game also conveniently sold.

Oh, the realisation... The arcades which we fed with so many coins, a Big Wheel, the Waltzer, the Mexican Hat and of course the Bumper Cars. https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00pk9p4/gavin-stacey-series-3-episode-5 skip to 21 minutes and 10 seconds.

'You knows I loves the bumper cars'. There was a ride that we all loved, but could never understand, I remember it being called The Mystic Swing. It was like a large tombola drum with a cradle inside that you sat in and one that could swing on a pivot point. The cradle was rocked, the door shut and the drum would roll around it giving a sensation that is hard to describe, but you felt like you were going upside down, but weren't as we were not strapped in, just sat in the cradle. It gave us so many laughs. The Hex ride at Alton Towers is the same principle. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T3OxIh8Cxz4 No internet back then, limited TV channels, we only had three until 1984 when Channel Four landed, so we spent as much time outside as we could on our bikes, normally BMX's and we would often cycle for miles, or simply congregate at 'The Top' where the playground and a small wooded area was. Along the path of this wooded area, which lead to the school swimming pool, was a known large underground wasps nest and one that, for some crazy reason, we would antagonise. Maybe hitting the entrance with a tree branch that had fallen, or in the case of Gary C, with others, something they decided to piss on. Yep, he got stung on the cock and we remind him of this often. He enjoyed the swelling, if not the discomfort. His words; Yep, got home crying and felt movement in my trackie bottoms, pulled them down with my pants, wasp flew out gingerly and I looked down and was like arrrghhhhh. Mum was dabbing vinegar on it as all the kids looked through the window, and I wished it would stay that big forever Outside of the estate was Harvey's Field, where the fair was held, where we would fly kites for hours, I had this really long cobra kite, it was massive and would simply sit in the air hardly moving. OMG! I found it! Not mine, but the one I had. https://enbay.cpaless.org/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=2354220 On occasion we would ride motorbikes through this field, no helmets, no safety gear on, sometimes not even a fuel tank, just an old oil bottle strapped to the frame with petrol in and a tube to the carb'.

The owner used to let the grass grow really long and we would catch grasshoppers in it, keep them in a plastic tub, holes punched in the lid for air, before setting them free. I can still feel the sensation of them jumping in my cupped hands.

Sometimes we would simply sit in the long grass, hidden, and just gaze at the sky.

It is a housing estate now, as are many of the fields we played in. The field had a diagonal path running through it, that led to a tree lined path that linked it to the 'Rec', a dedicated field for sports. Cricket, football and tennis, a pavilion and another play area. It had the wheeled screens for cricket that we would try and ride, but the wheels were pretty much painted solid, so we tipped them over instead. The path that linked these fields had enclosed pastures to one side that always had donkeys in and also housed the allotments, below it was 'The Moors', an area that held mysteries to me. https://www.google.com/maps/place/Bishop%E2%80%99s+Waltham+Moors/@50.9504478,-1.2045041,1013m/data=!3m1!1e3!4m6!3m5!1s0x48746b99be6f7977:0xd394ace86f957a68!8m2!3d50.9508984!4d-1.206636!16s%2Fg%2F11hfw2q1x0?entry=ttu&g_ep=EgoyMDI1MDgxMy4wIKXMDSoASAFQAw%3D%3D The Moors were and still are a wooded area where the river Hamble springs from, funnily enough it has been partially built on, the Donkey pastures bit, and the area is called Hamble Springs, go figure. When I said it held mysteries, it really did, I remember always being a little fearful when in there and of course there were the rumours that a 'crazed killer' lived down there and at any time you may bump into him. Brilliant, how do these local legends start? Local Legends. We had a few growing up, some scary, some funny. 'Batman and Robin'. Two old ladies who lived in the bungalows at the bottom of the estate, real names Ethel and Mrs Davies and oh how they hated us climbing the conker trees opposite my house. I don't know why, maybe they thought we would damage them, I hope they were concerned for our safety, although I doubt this. Resounding cries of 'get down out of those trees' would echo on a regular basis, normally followed by one of us being brave enough (as we were hidden by the leaves) shouting 'piss off you old biddies'. Phyllis, also known as 'Phyllis up a glass of water'. A local lady with a clear drink issue as she was always battered in the middle of the day and her wig would slip to a funny angle as she slurred her words. We would torment this poor lady, but that's what kids do, they know no better. Pete Lynch. I am going to be reserved about this man, as he had a shit upbringing and an unfair reputation and legacy, but he scared us, despite weighing about six stone wringing wet.

As is often the case his reputation was more scary than the man. Known for always getting his four cans of Hoffmeister (follow the bear) from Pats corner shop as they were the only place that would serve him. I hope he found peace later in life. Mrs Askew's sweet shop. Bishop's Waltham back in its day | Facebook We all loved this place, she ran it well into her elderly age and I can still here her wheezing as she walked (shuffled) from her lounge to the counter and then take an age to get the sweet jar from the shelf and weigh them out. Ten penny mixes! I understand that her shop has been preserved in the town museum.

The conker tress on Pine Road were also legendary, there were four in total, three smaller ones and one big bastard, that became a right of passage to eventually conquer and climb. I loved climbing it and would often be at the top shaking it to a point of snapping the thin branches and falling to my death just to get the conkers down. It still stands, and I look at it with almost fear and a strange feeling in my balls at the thought of climbing it again. https://www.google.com/maps/@50.9539886,-1.2050648,3a,75y,10.44h,90.81t/data=!3m8!1e1!3m6!1sy0vq8BDHr-kVIeO9HQMLCw!2e0!5s20090701T000000!6shttps:%2F%2Fstreetviewpixels-pa.googleapis.com%2Fv1%2Fthumbnail%3Fcb_client%3Dmaps_sv.tactile%26w%3D900%26h%3D600%26pitch%3D-0.8077825991725405%26panoid%3Dy0vq8BDHr-kVIeO9HQMLCw%26yaw%3D10.443991860931533!7i13312!8i6656?entry=ttu&g_ep=EgoyMDI1MDgxMy4wIKXMDSoASAFQAw%3D%3D With age comes wisdom and also an innate sense of self preservation and consequence that is thankfully not known when you are young. Jubilee Hall discos on a Friday night. The Hall was built to celebrate the Silver Jubilee of The Queen in 1977, hence the name and it held amazing discos. On the night the perimeter of the walls were lined with chairs and everyone had their own section, there was a tuck shop and of course a massive DJ set up with many lights and if we were lucky a strobe light that made you look like you were moving in a jerky fashion. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aC-d2VckqUw The night would progress and if you were really lucky, you might 'get off' (which has a very different meaning now to us adults) with the person you fancied, meaning you snogged them. Normally the boy would sit on one of the chairs and the lady would sit straddled on his lap and you would snog, maybe even get a cheeky feel of a boob, over the clothes of course and this would be repeated around the whole room. Memories of going home with my ears ringing from the music and the scent of a young ladies perfume on my clothes. Great evenings. Breakdancing, Nike Jackets, Boom Boxes and a piece of old lino. The 1980's brought us Breakdancing and we all wanted to be good at it. We were shit, really shit. Breakdance The Movie come out in 1984 and we adored it! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wFC5yYW58TM I still do, I made the Pinkies watch it after a night out, they all loved it... Ok, they hated it and remind me of this constantly. Bastards. You still watched the whole thing though! We all wanted to be able to move like Turbo, but really we all wanted to be Ozone because he was so fucking cool. This film introduced us to many things, Special K (not the cereal) Chaka Khan, Ice-T and notwithstanding, Jean-Claude Van Damme, I'll let you find that one yourself.

Enjoy But the stand out is 'The Nike Jacket' aka Nike Windbreaker https://www.rokit.co.uk/products/vintage-early-80s-nike-red-blue-hooded-track-jacket-m We all wanted one but they cost £50, which was an insane amount back then. I got one...

Did I mention being spoiled? 'side eye emoji'

Rob H also had one and we thought we were the coolest. I actually wore his whilst riding a skateboard down a slope in the junior school and boy was he pissed at me for that, what if I had come off and damaged it... Sorry mate. The Hitachi 3D Super Woofer! A single tape deck monster with three huge speakers on the front, a five band graphic equaliser and Super Bass. 44 Watts of PMPO It takes eight D Cell batteries that last about five minutes with Super Bass on. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D7LWGPzgTHs I still have it now, and it still works. We would either put the Breakdance soundtrack on it, or even better Electro 12 on cassette, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tsi1t2c3EBQ&list=RDtsi1t2c3EBQ&start_radio=1 and try to do the moonwalk, some body popping and the windmill, which was never going to happen, on the old bit of lino. Our enthusiasm outweighed our lack of talent and coordination by miles. Later it was used to play Brothers in Arms on repeat up 'The Top' to the annoyance of many. BMX was another new thing in the '80's, we really did live in a great time, the staple steed was the Raleigh Burner and it's varying guises. I had the Super Burner, the gold version with spoke wheels. We all wanted Skyway Tuff II wheels, we didn't know why, they didn't improve performance, they simply had 'cred'. As the sport grew and it did rapidly almost as fast as our desire to be the next Andy Ruffell we all wanted a 'freestyler' a bike characterised by having a double top tube in the main.

I got my hands on one, a Falcon I think and it was in pretty poor condition, so I stripped it down, sanded it back to bare metal and painted it myself with rattle cans. Base colour of white with green sections on the bottom bracket, seat post stem, head stem etc. that I 'feathered' into the white. I thought it looked the bomb, it was probably shit, shame I don't have any pictures of it still. We tried to learn all of the tricks, the Cherry Picker being the ultimate goal, I don't think any of us ever pulled it off. I think we got good at Endo's and jumps, but as per the breakdancing we were not great, but we loved it and isn't that all that matters? There was no pressure, or ability to record our efforts and post online, because it didn't exist and I wonder if the young generations of today could really do without that pressure and simply be kids and enjoy their youth.

Ooooh. Bit deep there Paul, keep it light. I remember my dad bringing home the first Video Recorder we had, it was huge, about the size of my Jaaaag, the weight of a baby elephant and a top loader no less with large push down buttons to control it, no remote.

I wonder if that is where the band got their name from. Top Loader, not 'no remote'. The very first films he hired were Every Which Way But Loose and Any Which Way You Can. Yep Right turn Clyde. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6zvTL8EJXjc I still love those films. The Video Recorder was a game changer, suddenly films were readily accessible, granted it pretty much killed the cinema industry, but now we could watch films we would never be allowed access to at one.

The Video Nasty was born, and I fucking loved them. An American Werewolf in London. Freddy, Driller Killer, Last House on the Left, Grease 2... Let's be honest that film is pretty horrific, but I do love it, a real guilty pleasure. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hk3IpNbltyw Coo-oo-ool Rider. My neighbours hired A Nightmare on Elm Street and I was allowed to watch it with them, it is roughly 25 yards from their front door to mine and I shit myself with every step going home in the dark afterwards, ha ha. They also used to hire soft porn movies, the Electric Blue series and I saw one once, my mum was still alive so I may been only 12 years old, but hey ho, this was the '80's and it was a liberal time.

There it is. My childhood, driven down to a few minutes writing. I have missed loads out, I know.

Rope swings The Bomb Hole Zip wires

Bulldog

Fires

Bones (the man) The Big Hill Rounders, cricket and footy in the rec and car park. Grumpy neighbours Bird killing Being made to bite a bar of soap if caught swearing to wash your mouth out

Playing 999 Kerbie Building dens in the Christmas tree field

Fishy Tammy, I still have no idea who she is. This needs a sequel...