The Decade That Spawned Me ~ Technology

I feel fortunate to have been born in the 70s because it was a decade of relative simplicity and family. Then along came the 80s with it’s affordable electronics and the cracks started to appear in family life and, well, it’s all gone a bit shit.

The chart topping ‘Video killed The Radio Star’ was released in 1979. The song promoted technology but also warned of it’s effects…

Video_Killed_the_Radio_Star_single_cover

Oh a oh!

At the start of the 70s it was very much about family as highlighted in the six part series, Back In Time For The Weekend where the Ashby-Hawkins family, having experienced life from the 1950s through to the 2000s, said that the 70s had the ‘perfect balance’ of convenience and family values before households were ‘splintered’ by technology.

I agree and I should know because I was there, flares and everything.

When it came to entertaining ourselves, we had to be imaginative. My brother and I were dressed, fed and turfed out during weekends and holidays with orders not to return until dinner time. Mum wasn’t being neglectful, it was simply the era’s ‘no shit approach’ to parenting and it was no bad thing because we were out in the fresh air, keeping fit and making memories. I can’t help but wonder if children today will remember the hours spent hunched over their mobile phones with the same level of nostalgia?

‘remMbR dat tym we wer @ McDonalds & we wer aL on our phones @ d sAm tym txtN Ech other?’

Can’t see it myself.

We did stuff. We made tents out of BED SHEETS and you know how parents spend trillions of pounds on electronic paraphernalia for kids today? Well we made skipping ropes out of old washing lines. HARD PLASTIC washing lines that hurt like buggery when they whacked you on the back of the legs. Can you imagine handing kids today an old washing line to play with? They’d probably stand there trying to work where to plug it in, no?

Today’s kids are about ALL about technology and The Boy is no different. He has the electronic devices and his DS is invaluable when it comes to distraction when we’re out and about. However, I’m an old fart who knows the importance of things that don’t require batteries (or a socket) so he has plenty of stuff that only requires imagination and no matter what you’ve heard, autistic children do have an imagination.

When it comes to ‘gaming’, in the 70s, we had ‘Pong’.

Pong

Obviously by today’s standards, it’s shit, but in my day it was cutting edge stuff. We had it on a console and we’d play it if the weather was bad enough (torrential rain, blizzards etc) to keep us in but the constant BLIP-BLIP-BLIP did Mum’s head in and it often went missing for weeks on end. Fancy?!

Thursdays was Top of the Pops night. We had Jimmy saVILE and the other deviants masquerading as DJs entertaining us in our front room. Urgh. Where are the Men in Black with their neuralyzers?

Also, GET THIS. Our TV had THREE channels and our telly had two remotes – me and my brother. We were fitter in those days, if nothing else..

Children’s TV accounted for all of about two hours a day and most programmes were crap. Like Pipkins. Pipkins was crap but it was addictive crap. Hartley Hare always looked like he had a bad case of Mixi, to me. I mean, LOOK AT HIM!

Somebody put it out of it’s misery ffs…

My own family has been seduced by technology. I SWORE I’d never have a Kindle. I SCOFFED at the idea of an electronic book but then OH beguiled me with the convenience of being able to buy a book whilst wearing my rollers and a flannelette nightie and I was like, ‘How soon can I have one?’

The experience of living in the 70s for the TV show changed Steph Ashby’s relationship with technology because she could see the impact that it had on family life and as a result took steps to use technology more selectively. Her daughter quit Facebook (yeah, right) and the entire family reduced their time on social media.

What I’ve taken away from that is that it’s the time spent with people that is really important and making sure that we don’t let things like technology get in the way.

I agree wholeheartedly with you, Mrs, and I will do my utmost to ensure my family do not become total slaves to technology. However, maybe it’s the case that…

We can’t rewind, we’ve gone too far.

Good Wife meets Shit Wife

 

I came across this article while I was sat on a cafe bog in rural Cumbria.

Don’t get me wrong, I like my vintage nostalgia but women as second class doormats is best left where it is in my opinion..

It occurred to me just how much times have changed so I thought I would compare housewives sixty two years apart. For this purpose I have created Shit Wife..

Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready on time for his return.

Shit Wife is impressed with Mary Berry’s baking skills but hasn’t yet managed to create the perfect bake. Or even a mediocre bake. In fact, she’s crap at baking. However, Bezzer’s books look fablus on her bookshelf.

Prepare yourself. Touch up your make up.

Shit Wife looks like Alice Cooper by tea-time and is about as fresh looking as week old roadkill. Depending on the season (and availability of leggings) she may also have cactus legs.

Put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh looking.

The last time Shit Wife wore ribbons, David Beckham was a sperm.

He has just been with a lot of work-weary people!

Shit Wife has had the day from HELL. She’s been e-mailing the council about the bins AGAIN, the lurcher’s dinner has done an encore all over the kitchen floor and one of the other Mums has been giving her the evils on the school yard.

Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house before your husband arrives.

Shit Wife gets busy with the hoover about 30 minutes before Hubs gets in. She has perfected the art of looking knackered when it fact she’s been binge watching Desperate Housewives all afternoon.

Prepare the children. Take a few minutes to wash the children’s hands and faces (if they are small) comb their hair and, if necessary, change their clothes. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part.

Shit Wife hasn’t the time (or inclination) for such shit.

Minimise all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet.

Shit Wife has no problem getting them to be quiet as they’ve lost the ability to speak thanks to modern technology. They now communicate via text.

Can u giv meeee sum £ pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?

Or

Wot?

Be happy to see him

Shit Wife imagines Hubs is Sean Bean

Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him.

Shit Wife imagine Hubs is Sean Bean, NAKED.

Don’t greet him with complaints and problems

Shit Wife unloads her crap unto Hubs’ before his coat’s off.

Don’t complain if he’s late home for dinner or even stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he may have gone through that day.

*Author of blog starts to choke*

Shit Wife flings Hubs’ tea in the bin when he staggers in late and pissed. If she’s on her period (or menopausal) she’ll launch the plate at him as well. Lucky for him her aim is always off. So far, she’s trashed three dinner sets and half a dozen mugs. However, Hubs’ is now highly competent at plastering. If he stays out all night he will come home to find she’s changed the locks, his clothes are in bin-bags on the pavement and ‘DIE BASTARD’ has been weed-killer-ed into the front lawn. He should count this as minor compared to what she’ll do when she gets her hands on him.

Arrange his pillow

Shit Wife regularly ponders the consequences of smothering Hubs to death with his ESPECIALLY when he’s snorting like a pig and drooling all over her new Argos duvet set. She bides her time for when the menopause finally robs her of her sanity and she can get away with manslaughter on the grounds of diminished responsibility.

Offer to take off his shoes.

Shit Wife knows Hubs’ feet smell like cheesy cat vomit and under NO circumstances (including life threatening) would she EVER touch them.

Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.

Shit Wife’s voice can reach well over 90 decibels when sufficiently riled, like when Hubs turns Emmerdale off to watch some crap about building sheds on Channel Bore.

Remember, he is master of the house.

Only in his dreams..

You have no right to question him.

Shit Wife will give him an interrogation Roz Huntley would be proud of. He WILL be questioned, at length, until he breaks.

A good wife always knows her place.

A good husband knows when to back away slowly.

Disclaimer. Note, Shit Wife is based loosely on me (not telling you which bits) and a few women I know with some creative license thrown in.

P.S all wives are not shit.