What’s something you miss from the old days?
That’s an interesting question.
And if I’m honest, there’s probably quite a list.
But I think the thing I miss most isn’t a particular gadget, television programme or even a fashion choice that should probably have stayed buried in the 1980s.
It’s the way we connected with each other.
Bear with me.
I grew up in a time before mobile phones, social media and the internet became part of everyday life.
If you wanted to speak to someone, you either picked up the telephone, knocked on their door or, heaven forbid, actually went looking for them.
And if they weren’t in?
Well, tough luck.
You tried again later.
There was something rather lovely about that.
We didn’t expect everyone to be available every minute of every day. We didn’t expect instant replies. We didn’t have little blue ticks telling us someone had read our message but apparently decided we weren’t worth answering.
And then there were letters.
Proper letters.
The sort you could hold in your hands.
You knew someone’s handwriting. You recognised their writing on an envelope before you’d even opened it.
Sometimes there’d be a photograph tucked inside. Maybe a little drawing, a keepsake or something completely daft that would make you smile.
And you knew somebody had taken the time to sit down and write to you.
Not type a few words into a screen while waiting for the kettle to boil.
Actually sit down.
Think.
Write.
And send it.
I still think there’s something rather special about that.
Technology has made communication easier, quicker and more convenient. I wouldn’t want to go back to a world without it.
But I do wonder whether we’ve lost something along the way.
We have hundreds, sometimes thousands, of people on social media, yet how many of them would we actually sit down and have a proper conversation with?
We can send a message across the world in seconds, but somehow finding the time to write a few meaningful words seems to have become a bit of an inconvenience.
Funny old world, isn’t it?
And it’s not just letters.
I miss the freedom of disappearing outside for an afternoon.
The days when your parents would tell you to be home before dark and that was pretty much the extent of the safety briefing.
Playing out until the streetlights came on.
Making dens.
Riding bikes.
Getting into mischief.
Drinking water straight from the garden hose because apparently that was perfectly acceptable hydration.
And somehow we survived.
Although I suspect modern health and safety officers would have had a complete nervous breakdown watching us.
But here’s the thing.
I’m not suggesting everything was better back then.
It wasn’t.
Life was difficult for plenty of people. There were problems, struggles and things we understand much better today.
Nostalgia has a habit of putting a rather attractive filter over the past.
But I do think there was something valuable about the slower pace of life.
We weren’t constantly documenting everything.
We weren’t worrying about how many likes a photograph would get.
We weren’t checking our phones every five minutes.
We were simply there.
Experiencing things.
Making memories without realising that’s what we were doing.
Perhaps that’s what I miss most.
Not necessarily the technology we left behind, but the time we seemed to have for each other.
The conversations.
The unexpected visits.
The handwritten letters.
The simple pleasure of sitting with someone and having absolutely nowhere else you needed to be.
Maybe we can’t turn the clock back.
And perhaps we wouldn’t really want to.
But I do think there’s something worth bringing forward from those days.
A little more patience.
A little more kindness.
A little more time for each other.
Because progress is wonderful.
But faster doesn’t always mean better.
And sometimes, just sometimes, the old-fashioned way of doing things was rather special.
Anyway…
That’s enough reminiscing from me.
I’m off to make a brew and wonder where the bloody years went.
Stay safe,
BC
