THE GOOD OLD DAYS
Posted: Sat Apr 18, 2020 2:08 pm
THE GOOD OLD DAYS
© Jeff Thorpe 26 March 2020
In these days of austerity there’s not a lot to do
with the virus running rampant through the world,
social media I guess, is helping plenty through
though in general, the fabric of society is unfurled.
This got me and the spouse musing just the other day
about the good old days when we were young,
just we two reminiscing mind, two metres away,
what did we get up to before social schism sprung?
I’m talking fifty plus years ago, the time when we were dating
when mobiles and computers had not been unveiled
the “swingin sixties” looking back, were captivating
and with not a lot of money, good times still prevailed.
Summer Sundays at the beach, footy in the winter substituting,
squash and netball through the week, no time to be bored,
wooing, an intense and earnest art, a joy in executing,
all of these activities struck a chord.
A big event, Saturday night at the flicks,
Rocky’s routine occurrence, nine theatres to choose from,
Earls Court or Wintergarden, best to impress chicks,
dress circle especially, an outing with aplomb.
Get this, for five bob entry, all of fifty cents,
patrons got two pictures, cartoon and newsreel,
today you see one movie and cost is immense,
by comparison a fairly lousy deal.
In our circle of friends, when wedding bells did peal
a house was built or bought in which to live
no graduates among us but, shoulders to the wheel,
at a time when lending rules dictated little to give.
Security of employment underwrote our generation
though not highly paid we had job stability,
no under or unemployment like today’s dislocation
thus, planning could be made without fragility.
The spouse lately found a paybook from 1969,
(she one who throws not that much away),
from that long ago, no chance would it be mine,
a battered surfboard from that era all I can display.
But anyway, the point is, her fortnightly earnings were $74.02
hardly reflective of flowing milk and honey,
proof, I guess, our bond is built on love, tried and true,
she’d never have been courted for her money.
While we’ve not faced a pandemic, recessions we’ve survived
which take more than five minutes to absolve,
time perhaps the best healer to see good fortune revived
yet, sooner before later let Covid 19 dissolve.
Now I’m no Nostradamus or economist as well
and what the future holds I have no clue,
we may be looking headlong at a page book from hell
that being the case, to the good old days, I say thank you.
© Jeff Thorpe 26 March 2020
In these days of austerity there’s not a lot to do
with the virus running rampant through the world,
social media I guess, is helping plenty through
though in general, the fabric of society is unfurled.
This got me and the spouse musing just the other day
about the good old days when we were young,
just we two reminiscing mind, two metres away,
what did we get up to before social schism sprung?
I’m talking fifty plus years ago, the time when we were dating
when mobiles and computers had not been unveiled
the “swingin sixties” looking back, were captivating
and with not a lot of money, good times still prevailed.
Summer Sundays at the beach, footy in the winter substituting,
squash and netball through the week, no time to be bored,
wooing, an intense and earnest art, a joy in executing,
all of these activities struck a chord.
A big event, Saturday night at the flicks,
Rocky’s routine occurrence, nine theatres to choose from,
Earls Court or Wintergarden, best to impress chicks,
dress circle especially, an outing with aplomb.
Get this, for five bob entry, all of fifty cents,
patrons got two pictures, cartoon and newsreel,
today you see one movie and cost is immense,
by comparison a fairly lousy deal.
In our circle of friends, when wedding bells did peal
a house was built or bought in which to live
no graduates among us but, shoulders to the wheel,
at a time when lending rules dictated little to give.
Security of employment underwrote our generation
though not highly paid we had job stability,
no under or unemployment like today’s dislocation
thus, planning could be made without fragility.
The spouse lately found a paybook from 1969,
(she one who throws not that much away),
from that long ago, no chance would it be mine,
a battered surfboard from that era all I can display.
But anyway, the point is, her fortnightly earnings were $74.02
hardly reflective of flowing milk and honey,
proof, I guess, our bond is built on love, tried and true,
she’d never have been courted for her money.
While we’ve not faced a pandemic, recessions we’ve survived
which take more than five minutes to absolve,
time perhaps the best healer to see good fortune revived
yet, sooner before later let Covid 19 dissolve.
Now I’m no Nostradamus or economist as well
and what the future holds I have no clue,
we may be looking headlong at a page book from hell
that being the case, to the good old days, I say thank you.