Growing Up In The 70’s

Growing up in the seventies, life was simple, raw, and full of adventure. There were no devices, no social media just the world outside our front doors and the endless possibilities of a long summer’s day.

I remember waking up to the sound of birds, not alarms. The morning sun filtered through the curtains, and by the time I was up and dressed, I was already halfway out the door. Breakfast was whatever Mum put in front of me, usually toast or cereal, and then I was off no texts, no calls, just the unspoken rule that I’d be back by dinner.

The streets were our playground. We rode our bikes everywhere, the wind in our hair, no helmets, no worries. We built ramps out of old planks and bricks, daring each other to go higher, faster. If you fell and scraped your knee, you rubbed some dirt on it and carried on. Nobody ran home unless there was real blood.

Weekends meant football in the park, playing until the sun dipped below the rooftops. Jumpers for goalposts, arguments over whether a shot was in or wide, and the eternal debate who had to fetch the ball when it went over the fence?

Then there were the days of pure mischief. Climbing trees, sneaking into places we weren’t supposed to be, seeing who could knock on old Mrs. Jenkins’ door and run away the fastest. She always knew it was us, but she never told our parents.

At night, we sat on the curb under the streetlights, swapping stories, eating sweets from the corner shop penny chews, sherbet fountains, Black Jacks that turned your tongue dark. Sometimes, we’d make up ghost stories, daring each other to walk down the alley alone. The bravest among us usually regretted it.

Rainy days meant huddling indoors, playing board games or making up ridiculous games with whatever we had lying around. If we got really bored, we’d brave the drizzle, jumping in puddles until we were soaked through. No one cared. Clothes dried, and we carried on.

There was no internet, no constant stream of information. We had real conversations, real laughter, real friendships built on shared experiences, not likes and followers. If you wanted to see someone, you knocked on their door. If they weren’t home, you waited or found something else to do.

Looking back, those days were magic. We lived in the moment, untethered by screens, guided only by our curiosity and the thrill of whatever adventure lay ahead. We were free. And we didn’t even know how lucky we were.

Nick Wade, Rentstart Ambassador & Volunteer