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Flairs, hair and very silly shoes

 

Well, if you were there you certainly weren’t square, but there is a chance you’ll have looked like a right prat.  Welcome to England in the 1970’s…

Aah yes, those were the days, we had the miner’s strikes, a three day week, the worst fashion in history since the doublet and hose and the longest, hottest summer for years.  And I’m not just saying this because I was there, but there was something definitely special about this period in history. 

The seasons of the year fell in the correct part of the calendar for a start.  The metrication system was introduced in 1971 to confuse the old and devalue the pound over night.  And the best way to show this effect is thus: a sliced white loaf would set you back 19p and twenty Rothmans cost 42p, and I can clearly remember enjoying a cigarette, IN A PUB, with beer that I paid 32p for.  Yes, three pints for a quid!  

Sounds cheap, doesn’t it!  Well it does as long as you don’t look back and then take into consideration, at a very basic level, the price of a Mars bar then and now.   Then it was a tanner, sixpence, two and a half new pence.  Today the same item costs 60p or 11/- shillings in real money.  And bearing in mind there were 20 shillings to the pound then, you can how things have changed.

The fashion of the era was a disaster.  I can only assume the economic boom at the time gave the designers more material to play with so they added it to men’s trousers!  And boy did we think we were cool in our 28 inch bell bottoms and three inch waist bands!   And let’s not forget the obligatory platform shoes or boots!  It was about this time the Fashion Police was formed!  The sad part about this was people actually attended parties dressed in this rubbish! 

And what did we drink?  Well by and large that’s a secret.  The wine, for the little lady, had a high proportion of antifreeze in it, but as no one died and most made it through the British winter untouched by frostbite, the Government approved the sales.  But, the blokey-blokes of the day were had over big time.

Any form of bag carrying was seen as the first steps to homosexuality, so how did you get your beer to a party?  Well, Watneys had the answer – The Party Seven tin.  Yep, seven pints at the cost of a nifty 15/- shillings or 75p to you youngsters, and it was carried under an arm, with a stack of records under the other. 

You never actually got to drink the whole of contents though.  Most people walked in those days and right there was the reason.  Warm beer being slopped about for a mile or so caused havoc in the kitchen.  You arrived, looked for a hammer and a screwdriver and the first two pints shot up the walls and the rest hit the ceiling.  Oh yes, none of that namby-pamby ring-pull malarkey in my  day…

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