Those plastic toys that every kid
Owned in 1988,
I had the plastic ponies and a snail
That opened up to carry little woodland mice.
My parents had a teas maid in their room
And it would spring to life at six,
Singing golden oldie hits and boiling water
While they stirred beneath their duvets
In their flannel jimmy jams.
And when we made a call from home
We turned the dial and waited for the clicks,
Twirling cords around our nervous fingers as
We longed for boyfriends loving words.
And now I see these things in cases,
Exhibits for the younger folk to see
And marvel at the way we coped
Before the fancy mobile phones and broadband,
Wifi and our handheld games.
Now I just feel sad that they won’t know
That simple time and they’ll just laugh
At those things I once held dear, precious.
A part of me, my history.
There is a museum in the town that I live in and it has lots of historical artifacts. There are even old sweet shops and pubs where you can buy pick n mix and sit and have a pint.
At the back of the museum is an exhibit where you can see examples of living rooms and kitchens through the decades. It starts from about the 1950’s and goes right up to post 2000. I love looking at some of the appliances they had and the style of the decoration in each room.
However, last time I went I walked through the back part of the exhibit and found cases of appliances and some of them were from the 80s. And then I spotted loads of things that I remembered. There was a teas maid that my parents owned and a vacuum cleaner that we had in the house.
And in the toys section there were games that I had played as a child.
Noah gazed at all of these things and asked if I had actually played with these toys. He seemed amazed at the fact that I had toys that didn’t require batteries or wifi connection.
Seeing these items in a museum really made me feel quite old. I know that in the scheme of things I’m not that old at all, but seeing my old toys and realising that they are now so outdated took me aback.
It is lovely to see these old pieces of your past though. It’s like crawling up into your loft space and finding boxes of your old school books and paintings you did at playgroup. It feels like a hug from somewhere in the past, when life was safe and predictable; a life that I would quite like to go back to.