Let’s say it was winter of 64
Post war sixties, the emerging fab four
Growing up in a laissez fare manner
Susan, Bebble, Baggy and Spanner
Like seeds of grass we’d germinate
In a small brick semi on a council estate
We walked to school through bluebell woods
With baggy clothes, no fancy duds
The teacher read the Magic Faraway Tree
Puff the Magic Dragon lived by the sea
At home our Mum was a permanent fixture
Baking cakes from scratch we’d eat the mixture
She fixed our clothes with the old fashioned Singer
The washing machine had a hand cranked wringer
The milk was delivered at an early hour
Froze in the winter and in the summer went sour
I’d race Sue down the stairs non stop
To see who’d get the cream off the top
Always hungry from dawn till dusk
Weetabix, toast and Farley’s rusk
Rose hip syrup and neat Ribena
Luxurious treats, we couldn’t be leaner
Our teeth had never seen a brush
The weekly bath was quite a rush
Saturday and the black and white TV
Sparkled to life with the BBC
Z cars was first then Dr Who
The hot new singer going by Lulu
No CGI or special effects
Our blood ran cold at the sound of the Daleks
Outside we’d often play in the street
Kicking a ball, run off our feet
Sue stole my bike and I took chase
She hit a lamp post , blood all over her face
The family vehicle was a green Austin van
No seat belts, a bench seat, no fancy sedan
Sundays to the allotment at Berkeley Towers
Growing lettuce, splitting wood, eating broccoli flowers
Poly tunnels and cloches in rows
Home made horseradish grown in droves
Sunday was a special treat
Sixpence to spend on anything sweet
Kali and gobstoppers, beyond belief
Small wonder we had such crappy teeth
On the mantelpiece the clock ticked a vacuous beat
Our simple life nonetheless seemed complete
England and the sixties, lacked ambition , intent
We were relentlessly happy, healthy, content