The Good Old Days

In my day, otherwise referred to as the "Good Old Days", things were different.

And I was pretty sure, at one time, that they were also better.

Not true!

Apparently ... and I only have the ramblings of some really, really old folks to go on ... things were just as difficult before and during 'my day' as they are now.

Jobs and money still had to be found, mortgages still had to be paid and children still had to be raised.

So why do I remember things as being so damned good?

I have a pretty good wossname ... remembering thingy ... memory ... which begs the question is my memory playing tricks on me?

I pondered this.

And I pondered!

Eventually I came to the conclusion that my wossname thingy ... memory ... is not defective or playing tricks on me.

"The Good Old Days" really did happen!

There were good times.

And they all occurred before I was 17 years old, during my school years.

You see, when you have no responsibilities and don't have to earn a living, things are grand with a capital G!

When earning a crust becomes your priority, your mind set changes. Your focal point changes from fun and enjoyment (which was interrupted only be the tedium of school) to one of survival.

That's when you become an adult.

That is when the sweat of honest toil washes away the child within.

Although many a good time is still to be had, the newly acquired adult mind clings desperately to joyful and irresponsible recollections of youth. It's these memories that people such as myself thrive on in later life, sometimes rubbing them in the faces of the youth of today, in the mistaken believe that they would enjoy themselves far better if only they would take heed and learn from an older persons experiences.

Maybe that ... and I'm only guessing here ... is why the reason why all the local youngsters point at me in the street then run screaming in the opposite direction.

Kids today, eh?