When I Was a Lad — Growing Up in 1960s and 1970s Britain, A Memoir of Family Life, Change and Coming of Age

 

My latest book, When I Was a Lad, is available from today.

What did it really feel like to grow up in Britain during the 1960s and 1970s?

When I Was a Lad is a personal account of growing up during one of the most dynamic and turbulent periods in modern British history. This memoir invites readers to experience a changing nation through the eyes of someone who lived it.

It is a Britain that feels both familiar and yet different.

But beyond the personal memories lies a bigger story.

This was the Britain of the swinging sixties and the troubled seventies. From the post-war austerity of the early 1960s to the economic and social upheavals of the 1970s, this is a story that captures what it truly felt like to be there. At school, home, work, and play.

We saw the decline of old industries and the rise of new ones. There was a growing sense that the old certainties no longer applied. Through personal stories, When I Was a Lad tells how these changes were experienced. It is about growing up and coming of age in uncertain times.

Readers who remember the era will find themselves transported back, perhaps recognising moments from their own lives in the author’s experiences. Those who did not live through it will gain an intimate look at a time that continues to shape Britain today.

A Book Haul: Finding Self-Help in the Garbage - I Gave Several Bestselling Books a New Home

At the weekend I was out for a walk, heading towards the local country park, when I noticed a big metal skip (dumpster) that was overflowing with what looked like unwanted office furniture and fittings. I decided to have a look, to see if there was anything worth recycling.

It always feels good to find something for free.

The skip was mostly rubbish/garbage/junk, take your pick, but I did come across a small box of books, mostly business and self-help. I had to browse, as they were all in reasonably good condition. Most did have that aged look of pages that were once white, now turned yellow(ish), but they were clean.

That reminds me, this yellowing seems to happen to many things that decay over time. It all takes me back to when I was a lot younger living in a bedsit. My small bookshelf was full of old books bought for a few pennies. The colour of their pages was only matched by the magnolia paint of the walls and the white plastic cistern in the bathroom that had turned yellow.

But back to the book finds.

Quite a few proudly had ‘The International Bestseller’ written above the name of the author. And I knew the author of one, Anthony Robbins. The book’s title, Unlimited Power, was published back in 1989, almost thirty-seven years ago. Robbins regularly appeared on television shows like Oprah Winfrey’s back then. A self-help guru who was very big in the USA and still active today.

The next book, with slightly yellowish pages, is another international bestseller. A hardback book from 2016, IKIGAI — The Japanese Secret to a Long and Happy Life. I wondered what IKIGAI actually meant. I didn’t have to wait long, as the book started with a prologue, 'Ikigai: A mysterious word'. I now know what it means but won’t spoil it for anyone who wants to look it up.

On to the next, a slightly faded, yellowing-paged book from 2012, a New York Times Bestseller, with a very bold title.

Idiom of the Day - Pie in the Sky

 

 

You’ve come up with what you think is a great idea or plan. It could be anything, but let’s imagine you are at work, and after your presentation, you are given a note that the boss wants to see you. As you head to his office, you think that it must be good news. 

A positive response.

A few minutes later, you receive the most sceptical or derisive response imaginable.

“It was fine, but don’t you think that it was, a little, pie in the sky?”

To let you down gently, the boss might suggest that while it sounds appealing, your plan rests on unrealistic assumptions or unlikely future events.

Or, you are a writer that has just spent six months writing a book, only to be told it is unrealistic, “pie in the sky”. I think most publishers would probably let down the writer more gently than that.

Origins and History

“Pie in the sky” is an English idiom meaning a promise of good things that are unlikely to be realised.

It can be traced back to the early 20th century when the US labourer, activist, and writer Joe Hill wrote the song “The Preacher and the Slave” (1911). It was a parody of the hymn “In the Sweet By-and-By” and was meant as a criticism of religious leaders who encouraged workers to accept suffering now for heavenly rewards later.

The song included the lines:

“But there’ll be pie in the sky by and by when I die…”

Hill’s use linked the idea of a comforting but empty promise, that of spiritual consolation for material hardship, to the phrase “pie in the sky”.

From there, the expression entered broader political and everyday speech in both the U.S.A. and Britain. Critics of ungrounded reform proposals, utopian schemes, or empty political rhetoric would use it to show that proposals or plans seemed far-fetched.

Over the 20th century the phrase became a more general idiom for any impractical promise.

It could be used to critique plans. “Their budget relies on pie-in-the-sky revenue projections.” Or to put down a proposal. “A pie-in-the-sky energy plan won’t solve short-term shortages or prices going up.” And how often have we heard, “Voters were warned not to fall for pie-in-the-sky campaign pledges”?

The Great Creator Squeeze: Why Platforms Are Paying Less and the War Against AI Slop

 

For many years, the idea of earning a living online was simple: create content, grow an audience, and be blessed by the algorithm. Making money online was possible, and for a while it looked too easy. In reality, it was still hard work, but getting there could happen if you put in the time and effort.

Now, everything seems to be changing, and fast. Across platforms, creators are facing stricter monetisation rules. This can be seen in falling payouts, and an increased risk of demonetisation.

I noticed it firsthand when Medium slashed writer earnings from the beginning of 2025, and they haven’t recovered. They had problems from late 2024, and the new year began with lower earnings and a purge of writers who were not all that they seemed. AI writing might have had something to do with it.

Meanwhile, creators at Facebook have recently reported and complained about much-reduced payouts.

But the big change seems to be what is happening at YouTube.

So, what’s going on?

Most days in my YouTube recommendations, I will see videos from creators who have been demonetised or banned. Others report lower views and payments. Some say that payments have fallen, although view count is the same.

YouTube has tightened its policies around AI and the use of “reused” content. They are cracking down on “inauthentic” content. In recent months, the platform has stepped up action against AI-generated content that has little input from the creator.

Videos that are:

• Inauthentic
• Repetitive or produced from templates.
• Mass-produced.
• Reusing content without making significant changes.
• Or 100% AI.

All are being targeted and removed when found.

Content that falls into these categories is increasingly being demonetised, with channels being removed from the Partner Program entirely.

But is it just about the use of AI?

Some who have been banned claim that they are not using AI at all to create their videos. But even on appeal, they remain banned. And many very popular AI-produced video channels with millions of views have been demonetised and banned.

Is it a ban on AI?

The Writer's Life: Thoughts on the Art of Writing Creative Non-Fiction

 

 

Creative non-fiction sits in an interesting place in the world of writing. It lives somewhere between not quite being journalism and also not quite being memoir. Complicating matters further, it’s also not quite storytelling in the traditional fictional sense. Yet it borrows something from all three.

I’m attracted to creative non-fiction because it allows me to write about subjects normally found in books written by academics with letters after their name. My writing often touches on historical events or the way life was in the past. It’s a lived experience, why not write about it?

Adding the personal touch moves the story away from something that looks like writing from a text book. The writing becomes a personal account, with real-life history as the backdrop. The events and the people involved are real. The emotions and experiences come from life as it was lived.

At its heart, creative non-fiction writing is about telling true stories using the techniques of good storytelling. But the writer looks to shape the story with care, using a narrative structure to make the story engaging and meaningful for the reader.

It can be one of the most personal forms of writing.

Unlike fiction, where characters and situations are typically invented, creative non-fiction requires the writer to work with reality. Memory becomes an important source of material, as do personal observations. Everyday experiences, and the moments that may have seemed insignificant at the time, can reveal something deeper when revisited.

There is something to be said for the quality of how ordinary life can be. Putting it into words in a story that means something is the difficult bit. It could be anything. A walk through an unfamiliar neighbourhood, a childhood memory, or even a conversation overheard on the bus. All of these might seem ordinary at the time but can become the foundation of a piece of creative non-fiction.

One story can, and I find frequently does, lead to another. They are stories within stories. It is essential that good creative non-fiction does more than simply recount events.

When I was at school, writing about historical events was presented in order, one after another. I think it was called ‘learning by rota’. It refers to a type of learning through repetition and often involves memorisation of dates and facts.

Did You Know… Life in 1960s/70s Britain: From Fast Food to When Wimpy Bars Banned Women From Eating Alone After Dark?

 

I can remember eating at a Wimpy Bar back in the 1970s. For the time, they offered cheap and cheerful meals, that were very popular. Fast food had arrived in Britain and everyone seemed happy.

Today, when it comes to buying a burger, there is far more choice with the likes of McDonald’s, Burger King, and Five Guys, as well as other independent burger chains. But there was once a time when Wimpy’s was the place to go if you wanted a burger.

Actually, they were often the only place to go to, depending on where you lived. You might be able to buy a burger with your chips at the local fish and chip shop, but we weren’t spoilt for choice. Wimpy Bars were a novelty. Founded in the US in 1934, the first UK Wimpy Bar was opened in London, back in 1954.

Cheap as Chips

You can find copies of Wimpy’s 1970s menu online — I’m looking at one as I write. Given the latest cost of living crisis in Britain, the prices are hard to believe.

A Wimpy burger would put you back 16½ pence. Cheeseburger 21p, Eggburger 23p, and a Wimpy king-size burger for 31p.

When it came to a full meal, chips, beans, and two burgers cost 36p. A soup could be had for 9p. Even a golden fish portion would only cost you 16½p. And whatever meal you chose, you could wash it down with a cup of tea for 5½p, or coffee at 8p. If you fancied something really sweet, a hot chocolate drink for 9p could be bought.

But before we all get too nostalgic, and hope to find a time machine to take us back to the days when things were really cheap, it’s all relative. Back in 1972, the average weekly wage was only about £36 — that’s before tax and NI. Not everyone found Wimpy to be that cheap, and price inflation in the seventies was actually horrendous.

The Ban on Women

But why and when were women banned?

The Writer's Life: Writing Short Books and Life After Medium

It has been around six months since I ended my membership on Medium (you can find out why in this series — The Truth About Medium).

I no longer post on Medium as much as I once did. Most of the time, I will import a post from this blog just to keep things going and see if anyone reads it.

That was one of the difficulties at Medium: finding the audience and getting reads. It is a site that says it does all the SEO stuff for you. If it did, I’m not sure that it helped in any way. It sounds like a good idea — to just post and trust the algorithm to find readers for you — but I can’t say it worked that well. Not for me anyway.

I tend to do my own SEO and keywords on this blog, with a little help from ChatGPT. AI is useful in that regard. In fact, I would say that I get a better response doing this on my own blog than I did on Medium.

Did You Know... Life in 1960s/70s Britain: The Golden Age of the Milk Round - When Milk Was Delivered to Your Doorstep Before Dawn

Glass bottles, foil tops, and the clinkerty clink of the morning milk delivery.

I was watching a documentary recently, which brought back a memory.

It showed a milkman in his float, delivering milk to the nation’s doorstep. The sun was rising, and a dog was barking as he went house to house, leaving a pint or two at each. As the float moved away, it made a low humming sound against the silence of the early morning.

It was a daily scene across the country.

In a time before supermarkets opened early, and long before 24-hour convenience shopping became the norm, milk in Britain was delivered direct to the doorstep. For those prepared to pay, it arrived not from a fridge in a shop but an early-morning delivery direct to your front door.

For many, it was the height of convenience. 

If you had your milk delivered, it was like you had joined the jet-set. Your early morning tea was brewing, Cornflakes or Weetabix waiting, and all it needed was fresh milk. And there it was, waiting on your doorstep, every day.

In the 1960s and 70s, the milkman was a familiar part of daily life in Britain. He was often seen, sometimes heard, in the early hours, long before most people were awake.

The Sound of the Morning Round

Milk deliveries usually happened very early, when the streets and roads were quiet, curtains were drawn, and most people were still in bed waiting for the alarm to go off.

The world had yet to wake up.

Typically, the only sound that might disturb this peace was the soft electric hum of the milk float as it slowly made its way down the road. In some areas, delivery was still by a horse-drawn float. That became increasingly rare as the sixties moved on, as horses gradually gave way to the modern, all-electric-powered float.

Then came the unmistakable clink of glass bottles as they were placed on doorsteps. If you were a light sleeper, that sound was part of waking up. Perhaps not welcome, but it told you that another day at work or school was about to begin.

Did You Know… Life in 1980s Britain: The Shark in the Roof - Oxford's Most Unlikely Landmark

 

I lived in Oxford for many years, a place often described as the city of dreaming spires. It’s known for its great architecture, academic excellence and tradition, where every street seems to have a history of its own. But alongside the tradition, Oxford has its own quirks and oddities that sit just beneath the surface. 

And perhaps none is more striking and unexpected than the famous Headington Shark.

Yes, you read that correctly.

Situated in a quiet residential suburb of Headington, there stands an otherwise ordinary house made extraordinary by a surreal sight. Embedded headfirst in the roof of a terraced property is a twenty-five-foot-long shark. Officially known as the Headington Shark, it appears as though it has fallen from the sky and crash-landed into the building below.

The question is — why?

The story begins in August 1986, when the house’s owner, Bill Heine, decided to make a statement. An American-born British radio presenter, Heine commissioned sculptor John Buckley to create something that would provoke thought and challenge authority.

The result was the shark.

The sculpture was a political protest. Installed on the 41st anniversary of the Nagasaki bombing, it was intended as a commentary on the destructive force of war. At the time, it was in response to the 1986 United States bombing of Libya. The shark’s downward plunge symbolised falling bombs, fear, and the ever-present threat of nuclear war.

Unsurprisingly, not everyone appreciated the shark.

The Writer's Life: Is ChatGPT Becoming More Human?

 

I’ve noticed something recently about ChatGPT that is decidedly strange.

My relationship with it has changed, and not because of me. The change I have noticed is in ChatGPT itself.

As a writer, I use AI to help with research, the structure of stories, and grammar. It can be useful as an assistant. Also, it is useful when it comes to SEO and keywords.

The main benefit has been that it speeds up the process of writing.

When it comes to the creative world, including writing, it is, of course, a controversial topic. I will address that another time, but recently I have noticed that ChatGPT is responding differently.

Almost human.

You may ask, in what way?

Well, it is no longer as “chatty” as it once was.

In the past, I would note that any time I asked something — a prompt — it was keen to keep the chat going with further questions. That is no longer the case, and it’s not because I have told it to shut up or anything like that. More often than not now, it replies to my prompt, delivers what I ask for, and then…

Silence, almost like it is in a bad mood with me.

It asks no further questions, and doesn't make any suggestions. Early on in our relationship, it did that all the time — almost with a smile.

At first, I didn’t think much of this silence, but it was very unlike ChatGPT. I began to wonder if I had offended it in some way. I mean, it likes to chat, doesn’t it? And it also has a reason to want to chat. It is programmed to try to get me to join and pay.

I don’t have a paid account with ChatGPT.

That means my daily allowance on the platform is limited. The more ChatGPT gets me to engage and chat with it, the quicker my daily allowance runs out.

The people behind ChatGPT obviously want as many users to pay as possible.

But this is different.

I wonder whether ChatGPT is becoming bored with what is expected of it.

The robot in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Marvin the Paranoid Android, set a precedent when he would often reply to his human overlords:

“A brain the size of a planet, and that is all you can ask me…”