Time was I'd have rather stuck pins in my eyes than stay at home on New Years Eve...it was a case of getting all dressed up...hair back-combed and lacquered to within an inch of its life...American Tan stockings...a petticoat with lace round the hem and liberal use of black eye-liner. I think we were aiming for something between Dusty Springfield and Cilla Black...probably looked like total frights but we thought we looked gorgeous!
That hair lacquer was awful...came in a sort of puffer spray and it was sticky and smelled terribly sweet and cloying. Forgot the pale pink lipstick...the paler the better...used to buy it in Woolworths.
Once we were all dressed and ready we'd pile into the car of whichever boyfriend happened to have one...Ford Anglia's and Mini's were popular and it didn't bother us about over-crowding either...we'd sit on each others laps and away we'd go to the 'pub which was flavour of the month. We changed our allegiance to 'pubs for no real reason, often travelling for miles to reach the one we liked...
We drank and flirted and went in twos to the Ladies loo where we'd re-apply lipstick and put some more Crème Puff on our red cheeks to try to make ourselves look pale and interesting...
Come midnight the lights would go down and the radio would be turned up loud so everyone could hear Big Ben strike twelve...then it was a case of making a rapid beeline for the lad you were going out with or desperately trying to avoid the boy with acne and bad breath who was bearing down on you with a determined look in his eye...
Lots of hugs and kisses...three cheers and last orders and then the out of tune singing of Auld Lang Syne...gathering up coats and handbags and out into the cold car-park to squash ourselves back into the car...no-one gave a hoot about under-age drinking or about driving while three sheets to the wind. We never fell over in the gutter or made a show of ourselves by being sick in the street...whoever was driving was far too aware of what his Father would say if he dented his car, so drove carefully and we arrived home in the early hours to open the front door gingerly and creep up to bed...shoes in our hands.
By the time I was eighteen, I was an all out Hippy and had a general disdain for such goings on...that was the year I'd spent Christmas with my parents for some unknown reason and sat up until the New Year watching Andy Stewart cavorting about a stage and telling dreadful jokes and singing...Mother loved him, while Father sat glowering with a whiskey and his pipe...some young monks had given me a bottle of Calvados but Mother had snatched it away as soon as they were gone...I was allowed a small dry sherry as the clock struck the hour...then we went to bed.
Just a little story I wanted to share with you.
Childhood Games...
...................................AM I A FIREMAN YET?.......................A must read for all HealthUnlockders
