“Parents just don’t understand.” Fresh Prince, The. (1988)

Had a smashing chat with Big Al yesterday.  We were on the subject of cars - by that I mean I was trying to get the conversation to a point where he’d agree to buy me a car - and ended up talking about what he did when he was my age.

Whereas I’ve gotten quite good at moping about and playing Championship Manager far too much, at my age (maybe even younger, actually) my parents had already sold everything they owned and sodded off to Cornwall for a few months.  It transpires that they were pyaar hippies, signing on once a week (you could sign on anywhere in the country, apparently) and spending the rest of the time camping on the beach.  My dad recalls people “queueing up in the dole office on a Monday in shorts with their surfboards propped up outside”.  Living.  The.  Dream.

I’m quite jealous of that, to be honest.  Back in the 70’s it seems there was a lot more freedom to up sticks and sit off somewhere else for a bit.  Nowadays everything is tied up in bureaucratic nonsense leaving you rooted to the one place.  The one place that HAS NO JOBS.

Of course, another noticeable difference is that by my age my parents had already been married for over 3 years.  Even setting aside my huge aversion to any form of commitment, my only positive female contact these days is when the fit woman in the Jobcentre calls my name every two weeks.  Still, it definitely counts.

Another smashing Big Al revelation was that he bought and drove his first car (one of these bad boys) without having a licence (there’s that 1970’s freedom for you again) and had to wait for his uncle to drive him home from the showroom the first day he had it.  He also, whilst teaching himself to drive afterwards, struggled as his knees were really pressed up high - due to his choice of platform shoes as footwear.

Well played, my parents.  They’re good eggs.

An artist’s impression of my parents, circa 1976

(Bonus story:  on more than one occasion my dad received a knock on the door to inform him that local youths had picked up and moved his car into the middle of the road and, at one point, even tipped it on to its side.  Fibreglass cars, eh?  Brill)