>The promised demise of the UK Theme has set me on a course of nostalgia and sentementality. Born at the end of the 60s, I was not old enough to understand the politics of the Vietnam War, the likelihood that man in fact never has stepped on the moon, or the machinations that lay behind the three day week.
But I do remember things. Nixon resigning, Jeremy Thorpe, Princess Anne’s wedding (the first time round) and watching the fireworks from Windsor Castle all in glorious black and white.
It’s not surprising, I suppose, that memories of these things tend to be in black and white and even that some faces, perhaps only remembered through the medium of a black and white photo are also black and white.
But whole memories of visiting places – a particular visit to my great aunts and uncles in flats at Upper Pitt Street in Liverpool (I think), with flocks of pigeons all flapping about in black and white against a grey (blue) sky. Searching for Upper Pitt Street, I found a reference to a park there now and then found another to Picton Playground, a place of wonderment and awe for me when I was three. In contrast to the park we had back home in the depths of Cornwall this place was a technicolour dream of equipment (most of which I was much too timid to use). I know it was colourful but I can only remember it in black and white.
And an old man picking up dogends on the top deck of a double decker bus and my mum telling me not to stare. He’s in black and white too.
Is it only me? Am I going ever-so-slightly round the twist? Are there any scientific types out there who put my mind at ease and tell my I’m completely normal, in this regard at least.
And will my children remeber things in black and white or colour?