When the High Street Was King: Shopping in 1960s and 70s Britain (Part Three)

The local toyshop, just around the corner from my home back in the 1960s, was a treasure trove for local children. It seemed that every toy we could ever want was in that small shop. Mind you, at the time it didn’t look small. To a small boy, though, it was big, stacked from top to bottom with every toy imaginable. I only discovered, years later when I revisited the area, just how small the shop was. 

It was in a row of local shops, conveniently next door to my favourite sweet shop.

I would visit the toyshop several times a week, mostly window shopping, but occasionally I would pluck up the courage to go in. As you walked in, the left side of the shop sold toys for boys. To the right, girls' toys. Needless to say, I never crossed the boundary to the right. 

The shopkeeper would look in my direction. 

“Hello again.” He would say, in recognition of my many visits. “What interests you today?”

“Just looking." I would reply.

“Well, don’t look for too long, because next time you come in, what you want now might be sold.” 

The shopkeeper tried his best to encourage me to spend.

When the High Street Was King: Shopping in 1960s and 70s Britain (Part Two)

 

Buying something on 'tick' is a British idiom that means to buy on credit. 

It might be used alongside other idioms, like to buy on the “never-never”. Often people would use both. 

Another way of paying later that was popular in pubs was to buy drinks and then ask the barman to "put it on the slate”.

It probably helped if you were friends with the publican.

In many ways it was a system based on trust.

Buying on “tick” and the “never-never” or “putting it on the slate" were all forms of credit, but not in a legal sense. Typically, it was often a private arrangement, and perhaps most importantly, there was usually no interest to pay. In other words, you just owed the shopkeeper or publican money for goods purchased. It was one way of helping customers through the week until they got paid. It worked as long as you settled your bill on time; otherwise, you might end up being banned or barred.

And it was different from purchasing items by using an actual credit card. The first credit card was introduced in Britain on 29 June 1966 by Barclays, but it would take a long time for their use to become widespread. For the most part even paying by cheque was rare. Most people didn’t have a chequebook or that type of bank account. 

In fact, many people didn’t even have a bank account.

And debit cards were also some way off in the future as well.

The 1960s and 70s were a time when cash was king.

When the High Street Was King: Shopping in 1960s and 70s Britain (Part One)

 

Back in the 1960s and 70s, Saturday was the big day of the week when people went shopping. The weekend often began with a shopping trip.

“Up town”

Even if you lived in a city, a shopping trip was typically referred to as going “up town”.

I still make those Saturday shopping trips to my local city centre, but things look very different now. The side streets have just as many closed shops as open. It has been that way for many years, and the city centre today is nowhere near as busy as it was in the past. While there are calls to revitalise city centres, it tends to overlook that people have more choice as to where and how they shop today.

There wasn’t as much choice in the 1970s. There were local shops and markets, but out-of-town (or city) shopping centres were still only a town planner’s dream. The first arrived at Brent Cross in London in 1976. Out-of-town superstores had been around for a while, although I only rarely visited one.

We mostly went “up town” to do our Saturday shop.

There was a time when the high street and the city centre were the place to go when it came to shopping. Before online shopping and before everything could be delivered to your front door with the click of a button, most of us went shopping in person.

That meant a car or bus journey, sometimes a walk.

On Saturday morning, the town centre was often "packed" by nine o'clock. Shops were full, queues long, and buses arrived every five minutes. If you wanted a new pair of shoes, you went to the shoe shop. If you wanted a record, you went to the record shop. If you needed a birthday present, you went into “town” and looked around the shops. Christmas shopping was hectic, and it didn't begin in October either.

As a young boy, if I wanted toys, which was most of the time, I would visit an actual toy shop. I remember one in the city centre that was massive and had every toy I could ever want. The fact that I would always leave the shop empty-handed, with a “Maybe at Christmas” comment from my parents, gave me hope that often failed to deliver.

Santa must have forgotten.

Life in 1960s/70s Britain: The Comfort Foods That Kept Us Going - Bread and Dripping: So Good It Caused Riots

 

If ever there was a meal that perfectly reflected Britain’s frugal past, it had to be bread and dripping. Perhaps hard to believe now, but there was a time when it was seen as a nutritious and desirable meal. A meal that was eaten regularly across the land.

But what was bread and dripping?

Back in the 1960s and 70s, for many it was almost a staple meal. In our house it was served as a once a week event, on Sunday. That was the day when a traditional beef roast was cooked. When finished, the fat left in the roasting tin wasn’t thrown away. Instead, it was poured into a pot and allowed to cool. It was then used to spread on bread, or as a cooking fat.

When I went to live with my gran in the early 1970s, she would always serve up a couple of slices of bread and dripping after Sunday dinner. There was a skill to getting it right, though. The right balance between the leftover meat juices and fat was key. Often the rich meat juices settled underneath the layer of fat, creating an extra burst of flavour. Out of the pot, it would be spread onto bread or toast, sometimes with a little salt and pepper.

Too much fat, though, could spoil the sandwich — or maybe that was just me? I was not that keen on too much fat. It could be served at any time, as a filling afternoon snack or as a simple supper. In an emergency, it was a lunchtime sandwich to take to school.

To modern eyes it may sound unhealthy, and it was. A sandwich, the contents of which were mostly fat - and it wasn’t good fat. Exactly the opposite, it was loaded with saturated bad fat. But the truth was, many people were blissfully unaware of the dangers of too much saturated fat back then. 

And who was going to tell us anyway? 

We were years away from healthy lifestyle information being readily available. This was a time when many people were more concerned about wasting what was seen as perfectly good food than its fat content. The dripping from a roast dinner was simply an opportunity to make more meals. 

And then there was the cost.

With money and household budgets often tight, we ate what was available. Leftovers often became the next meal. Throwing food away simply wasn’t an option. It’s another reminder that previous generations often had to make every penny count and that austerity was nothing new.

People have even rioted over dripping.

Five More TV Catchphrases That Defined 1960s & 70s Britain

Following on from our look at five famous television catchphrases that became part of everyday British life in the 1960s and 70s, here are five more that many people of a certain age will remember instantly. 

Catchphrases from television programmes which became a part of the language of the time.

Love them or hate them, a catchphrase once heard almost had a life of its own. And if you were in the business of show business and were the one who came up with the catchphrase that took off, you would be remembered forever.

So, let’s get started.

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“I didn’t get where I am today …” — C.J. from the BBC comedy series The Rise and Fall of Reginald Perrin and The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin

The Rise and Fall of Reginald Perrin is the story of a burnt-out and very bored executive, Reginald Perrin. Written by David Nobbs, it tells the story of Reginald Iolanthe Perrin.

Simply known as Reggie, Perrin was played by Leonard Rossiter. The series follows Reggie as he faces a midlife crisis and decides to fake his own death. He leaves behind his old life and searches for something better. He ends up working on a farm looking after pigs and soon realises that the grass is not always as green on the other side.

His boss, C.J., was played by John Barron. C.J. is the pompous managing director of Sunshine Desserts who sees himself as above all those around him. Whenever he disapproved of or questioned anyone, he would always use his favourite expression:

“I didn’t get where I am today by …”

He would then offer his opinion — a supposedly wiser observation about business or life that questioned the proposition. The humour was in the repetition. C.J. was completely convinced of his own self-importance, while everyone around him either feared him or took no notice.

The phrase was one to use as a joke. As a putdown, it could be adapted to almost any situation.

“Eat your greens.” Mam might chastise me across the dinner table.

“I didn’t get where I am today by eating greens …”

You didn’t even need to finish the sentence. Everyone knew what was coming.

〰〰〰〰

“I’m free!” — Mr Humphries, from the BBC comedy series Are You Being Served?

Another phrase that became part of British popular culture came from the BBC sitcom Are You Being Served? Mr Humphries was played by John Inman. He worked on the menswear counter at the fictional Grace Brothers department store.

His famous cry of “I’m free!” was delivered with a knowing, flamboyant and somewhat camp flourish that raised the inevitable question about Mr Humphries; was the character gay? I can’t remember it ever being mentioned in the series, and Mr Humphries did occasionally mention girlfriends. No answer was given.

There was no doubt that the character of Mr Humphries was camp, though. His reply of “I’m free!” became one of the show’s most recognisable jokes. The character and catchphrase reflected the risqué, innuendo-filled style of British sitcom comedy that followed in the tradition of the Carry On films. It became increasingly popular during the 1970s.

Five TV Catchphrases That Defined 1960s & 70s Britain

 

There was a time when television was still relatively new, yet its influence on everyday British life stood out. With only three television channels for much of the 1960s and 1970s, millions would watch the same programmes. The most popular would regularly have audience figures of fifteen to twenty million; at Christmas, they would be higher.

Today, it is very different. There is far more choice and many ways to view “television” content. Audience figures, even for the most successful programmes, are much lower now. Back in the nineteen sixties and seventies, if something was popular on television, chances were that a large proportion of the country had watched.

And that meant television catchphrases could quickly escape from the small screen and become part of everyday conversation. They often became popular overnight. Many were funny, and you didn’t necessarily have to explain the joke, as many had already seen it. Say the phrase in the right voice, and everyone knew exactly what you meant.

Here are five memorable examples.

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“I wanna tell you a story.” — Max Bygraves

Max Bygraves was one of Britain’s best-known entertainers. He performed at a time when those in show business would simply call themselves an entertainer. The “Jack of all trades” type of act. They would typically sing, dance, play instruments, tell jokes and stories, and even act in films. A bit of everything.

And if there is one catchphrase that people who lived through that time will remember Max Bygraves for, it is “I wanna tell you a story.” It became closely associated with his stage and television performances.

Bygraves would typically use the phrase before launching into a joke, story, or anecdote. His delivery was as important as the words themselves, slightly exaggerated, becoming part of the character. “I wanna tell you a story” was a simple, memorable and easy-to-imitate catchphrase. Children and adults alike would use it, and often did, when they had something to tell.

It became so popular that impersonators like Mike Yarwood did their impression of “I wanna tell you a story” with exaggerated waving hands. Yarwood’s own television show would regularly attract a big audience. If you watched Mike Yarwood, then you didn’t need to be a fan of Max Bygraves to know about the “I wanna tell you a story” catchphrase.

And Bygraves himself thought highly of it, as he named his autobiography “I wanna tell you a story”.

It may be less well known today, but just about everyone might have said it at some point back then.

 〰〰〰〰

“Just like that!” — Tommy Cooper

Few comedians had a catchphrase quite as recognisable as Tommy Cooper’s “Just like that!” Cooper had a very distinctive appearance, a big physical presence, and he always wore a red fez. 

He was a magician and a very funny one.

His act was based on magic tricks. He would attempt a trick, fail spectacularly and then confidently announce, “Just like that!” He perfected the art of doing magic tricks badly, but he would often follow it up by actually doing the trick right with an add-on to his catchphrase.

“Just like that — not like that — just like that!” When he finally got it right.

Tommy Cooper’s timing was the best in the business. Actually, he was an excellent magician, but he also crossed over into telling funny stories and jokes, while occasionally attempting to sing. He could turn a simple phrase into a punchline through his delivery and facial expressions.

“Just like that!” quickly became something people could use whenever something happened easily, unexpectedly or, perhaps, not quite as successfully as planned. It became something you could hear repeated in homes, workplaces, and school playgrounds.

Did You Know… Life in 1960s/70s Britain: The Hot Summer of 1976 - The Long Heatwave That No One Forgot

 

It’s the summer of 2026, and officially, the UK has seen five heatwaves this year, the latest one coming to an end last weekend as temperatures dropped to mid-twenties.

This year, the grass in many areas has turned brown and then yellow. We have seen wildfires and drought conditions. Health warnings about heat exhaustion are front-page news. The hottest day of the year so far was recorded at Kew Gardens in London, with temperatures reaching 38.1C.

We have had hot summers before, but hot, relentless heatwaves are rare.

1976 was one of those long, hot unforgettable summers.

It was fifty years ago, and back then we didn’t have weather apps or amber heat warnings. There was no rolling television coverage. Unlike today’s forecasts, there were no smartphone alerts warning us to drink more water or stay indoors. Like now, we knew it was hot, but being a young teenager, the sun was what we wanted.

Life in 1960s/70s Britain: The Comfort Foods That Kept Us Going - Sugar Sandwiches

In the 1960s and 70s, when jam wasn’t available, children would often turn to sugar, in the form of sugar sandwiches. It was the meal that kept children happy and dentists busy. A sweet treat made with two slices of white bread. Every sandwich seemed to be made with white bread back then. They were cheerfully cheap and satisfied the sweet tooth of the nation.

The sugar sandwich delivered empty calories while giving an energy rush that stopped hunger in its tracks. Many adults who grew up in the 1960s and 1970s may still smile at the memory, although I doubt most wouldn’t dream of eating one today.

It was a snack designed for comfort and convenience.

And just like a jam sandwich, they were so easy to make. As a boy, even I could make them. I’d return home from school at lunchtime, hungry for a sandwich and with a plan in mind as to what I wanted.

“What are we having to eat?” I would ask my mother.

“There’s cheese, spam, some corned beef left …”

“Do we have any jam?” I asked, ignoring all the more nutritious options on offer.

“Jam? Not until I go to the shops.”

“No jam? I wouldn't mind a sugar sandwich. I can make it.” I said with hope.

“Sugar sandwich? I suppose so, but don’t blame me if you get a toothache.”

Wise advice often ignored.

Did You Know… Life in 1980s Britain: Council Housing in Transition: Tenants as Owners and the End of Affordable Housing

 

 

For much of the mid-to late 20th century, council housing was to become a cornerstone of British life. That all changed after the election of Margaret Thatcher’s Conservative government in 1979. In 1980, they introduced a policy that would see one of the most significant housing reforms in modern British history. 

From the start, it was controversial. Council tenants were given the legal right to purchase the homes they were living in. The policy was called “Right to Buy”. And to encourage tenants to take part, they were often given a substantial discount to market price to do so. 

Traditionally, council housing was there to provide cheap, affordable housing to rent, not to buy. It was a policy grounded in affordability, and a recognition that a basic level of decent quality housing should not be left to the market to decide on the basis of what you could afford. That was about to change.

But first, how did we get there, and why?

The Post-War Council House Boom

After the Second World War, Britain needed new housing and lots of it. Housing stock that had been damaged and destroyed by the Luftwaffe needed to be replaced. There was also a need to replace the rundown, ageing, privately owned housing stock that was no longer fit for purpose.

Not for the first time, Britain had a housing crisis. The same call to build homes fit for heroes had gone out after the First World War. For the most part it failed to deliver. Britain’s housing stock for the masses was poor, but in 1945 a Labour government committed itself to building decent-quality, affordable housing to rent. 

They were called council houses.

From the end of the war, up to 1981, over five million council properties were built in Britain. By the start of the 1980s around 1 in 3 households lived in social homes. They provided secure, affordable homes, and for many, renting from the local council became the norm, something that was desirable. It offered stability, community, and a sense of belonging that stretched across generations.

But in the 1980s, that changed.

It was something that would reshape not only how people lived but also what they thought about homeownership, wealth, and society itself.

A Radical New Idea — The Right to Buy

In housing, there was a shift to the ideology that the market knows best. 

Life in 1960s/70s Britain: The Comfort Foods That Kept Us Going - Spam: The Meat That Refused to Disappear

 

Love it or hate it, Spam, canned pork and ham, has become one of Britain’s most recognisable foods. At least there was a time when it was recognisable. Today when Spam gets a mention, it is often more to do with spam emails or online scammers than food.

Introduced in the 1930s, it gained enormous popularity during rationing in wartime because it was readily and widely available. By the 1970s it remained a cupboard staple in many homes. That was certainly the case in my home. 

And it was cheap, around fifteen to twenty pence a can. 

Is it still popular? I must admit, I haven’t eaten it in years. In fact, I wondered if it was still available. You don’t hear spam mentioned much these days as a desirable meal or part of the weekly shop. And I don’t remember seeing it on the shelves at the supermarket.

So, I had to check. 

Of course, it is available, and it still comes in a tin can. An odd-shaped tin can. It was also a can that used to come with, if memory serves me, its own little key that you would use to wind the lid off (or maybe that was corned beef in a can?). That could be tricky if you got it wrong.

There was then the challenge of getting the meat out of the tin. Often, it didn’t move, and I would end up slapping the bottom of the tin. There was an art to getting it right that my mother seemed to know.

Did You Know… Life in 1960s Britain: From Wembley 1966 to World Cup 2026 - How Football Went From Affordable Glory to Premium Prices

 

The 2026 FIFA World Cup is now well under way, and for those of us of a certain age, it’s hard not to think back to another summer that still holds a special place in British sporting history.

1966.

The year England last won the World Cup.

That was the year when commentator Kenneth Wolstenholme said the immortal words:

“Some people are on the pitch… they think it’s all over… it is now!” as Geoff Hurst hit the fourth goal that gave England victory over West Germany, 4–2.

And sixty years later, England opened their 2026 campaign with a 4–2 defeat of Croatia. The scoreline is a coincidence, but a reminder of 1966, as England try to end “sixty years of hurt”.

Time will tell.

But there is one very noticeable difference about the 2026 World Cup, compared to 1966. How much it now costs for fans to actually watch a game in person. 

2026 is the year when ordinary supporters attending the biggest football tournament on Earth might just need to take out a second mortgage to finance their desire to watch football. For the fans of the two teams that get to the final, following them all the way will cost a small fortune.

One big change in the game of football since the 1960s and 70s, is the impact of money on the sport, especially big tournaments like the World Cup.

It is now a commercial extravaganza.

The World Cup in 1966: The People’s Game — Football for Everyone

When England hosted the World Cup in 1966, football was still very much a working-class game. People would attend games in their working clothes. Some still wore a cloth cap, with a rosette pinned to their chest, a scarf around their neck, and a rattle in hand.

And to attend a game at the World Cup back then was cheap. Football fans today might be surprised as to how cheap it actually was.

As today, ticket prices varied depending on the match and seating area, but contemporary reports show that some supporters were able to buy tickets for as little as five shillings (25p in pre-decimal currency). Even the best seats for many World Cup games cost only a few pounds.

And yes, there were tickets for the actual final, priced at five shillings.

That may sound impossibly cheap today, and by comparison to 2026, it was!

Did You Know… life in 1960s Britain: The Year England Won the World Cup, With Thanks to Pickles the Dog

 

In Britain, when people think of 1966, one thing immediately comes to mind (especially if you are English): England winning the World Cup. Sixty years later, and with the World Cup of 2026 about to start, England will try again to add a second win and end “sixty years of hurt”.

But 1966 stands out for so many reasons. 

Even today, football fans can recite the famous words of commentator Kenneth Wolstenholme as Geoff Hurst iced victory over West Germany.

“Some people are on the pitch… they think it’s all over… it is now!”

And it was. By four goals to two, England lifted the trophy, and little Nobby Styles, all five feet, six inches of him, went on a merry dance around the pitch with the trophy on his head.

It was a World Cup that gave people many lasting memories, including one that happened four months before England lifted the trophy.

That famous World Cup trophy was stolen.

And if it hadn’t been for an ordinary dog named Pickles, football history might have been very different.

The Biggest Football Tournament on Earth

The summer of 1966 was an exciting time in Britain. The swinging sixties were in full flow, with The Beatles at the height of their fame, and, for the first time, the World Cup was to be held in England. 

In 1960, England had been chosen as the host nation for the 1966 tournament over rival bids from West Germany and Spain.

For the first time, football was coming home.

Hosting the tournament became a matter of national pride. Actually winning it in front of a national audience was something that dreams were made of. But before the football started, the famous Jules Rimet Trophy, awarded to the World Cup winners, was sent on a tour of the country as part of the build-up.

Then disaster struck.

The Day the World Cup Was Stolen

On 20 March 1966, the trophy was on display at Westminster Central Hall in London as part of a stamp exhibition. Security was arranged, but unlike today, when cameras and sensors can monitor 24/7, the trophy was not under constant surveillance. It was during a brief period when the guards were on patrol, or distracted, that thieves got inside the building and removed the trophy from its display case.

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?

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.

Did You Know… Life In 1960s/70s Britain: You Could Only Watch Three Television Channels?

 

BBC1, BBC2 and ITV — and sometimes nothing at all.

In 1960s and ’70s Britain, television was a very different experience. Today, there are hundreds of channels to choose from, with satellite, cable, and the internet giving options from around the world. It’s now possible to spend more time scrolling endlessly looking for something to watch than actually watching.

There was a time when the choice was simple.

In the early 1960s, there were just three television channels: BBC1, BBC2, and ITV. And BBC2 didn’t arrive until 1964.

And that was it.

A Nation Watching the Same Family Favourites

With so few options, television became a shared national experience in a way that’s hard to imagine today. Families across the country watched the same programmes at the same time.

Favourite programmes were watched by millions. When the weekly stats came out showing what we had watched, the top programmes would often have viewing figures of ten to twenty million.

And there were times when everyone did seem to be watching at the same time.

England’s world cup win over West Germany in 1966, shown live by both BBC and ITV, was watched by 32.3 million people.

The Apollo 13 splashdown was watched by 28.6 million.

I was too young for England’s win, but I do remember watching a number of Apollo splashdowns. Thirteen must have been one of them.

The next day, conversations at work or school often began with:

“Did you see that last night?”

And most people had.

Big moments on television felt bigger because everyone experienced them together.

BBC1, BBC2 and ITV

Each channel had its own identity.

BBC1 was the main channel. The BBC had been around for years. The first radio and then television broadcaster in Britain. It was why we had a television licence. Because of the licence, it was also advertisement free.

ITV was the commercial alternative. Each region had its own ITV channel, like Thames TV, Anglia and Grenada. It had many popular shows, but as soon as those advertisements came on, someone would shout out, “Not another one.” The steady flow of breaks for commercials were never popular.

I never came across anyone who ever said they bought something because they saw an ad “on the telly”.

BBC2 was launched in 1964, and was considered a little more experimental, highbrow, and initially not available across the whole of the country. I seem to remember that it was the home of anything a little different, not seen as mainstream.

Even Fawlty Towers was originally broadcast on BBC 2, in 1975 and 79.

No Daytime TV

And television didn’t run all day.

For much of the 60s and 70s, daytime broadcasting was limited.

There were programmes for schools, and also the Open University. Mostly on the BBC. The average OU lecture was presented by someone with long hair, a beard and wearing corduroy trousers. They might have a blackboard behind them covered in diagrams of thermodynamics, or of the vote share of parties during the Weimar Republic in Germany.

If you turned over to ITV, you might be presented with a hiss and a blank screen, nothing to watch there during the day. Screens for all channels were often blank for hours at a time, until the official start time of the days programmes.

Morning and afternoon television as we know it today, simply didn’t exist.

For children, this meant that if you were home during the day, there was nothing to watch — other than those programmes for schools. Television was something that happened in the evening, not something you dipped into throughout the day.

The lack of daytime television was in part due to government restrictions on the number of hours that television could be shown each day. The law was changed in 1972 when the Conservative government lifted all broadcasting hours restrictions.

ITV were the first to take advantage of the new law. In 1972, they introduced an afternoon schedule. The BBC didn't change. Their daytime schedule might gave us a selection of pages of Ceefax teletext, rather than the testcard, but, daytime television didn't arrive on the BBC until October 1986.

Closedown

Perhaps the most striking difference of all between then and now was what happened at night. There was no 24/7 television. No late-night scrolling. No “just one more episode to watch” of binge viewing. When the television for the night stopped, it stopped. At night, it closed down.

Except, in a way, it typically didn’t.

A few things happened to end our day.

Did You Know… Life In 1960s/70s Britain: Electricity and the Coin Meter - Paying for Power One Coin at a Time

For many households in Britain there was a time when paying for electricity did not involve monthly bills, online accounts, or direct debits.

Instead, it involved cash, actual physical money.

Electricity was often paid for with shillings and then, later, after decimalisation was introduced in 1971, a ten pence coin. As time passed and with inflation, a fifty pence coin became the norm.

Many homes had a coin meter. It was typically mounted on a wall, usually in the hallway or under the stairs. Sometimes it was hidden away in a cubbyhole. 

Unlike today, where meters are digital, the old meters had a mechanical number mechanism, that showed the number of units used. They also had a spinning wheel inside which would speed up when more appliances were in use.

At times, it would go really fast.

That coin meter controlled the electricity supply to the home, and to keep the lights on, you had to feed it with coins.

Paying as You Used It

Today, most people pay their electricity bills at the end of the month or quarterly. They are paying for electricity already used. But in the days of coin meters, it was different.

The idea behind coin meters was simple: you had to pay in advance. It was most commonly found in rented homes, bedsits and flats, or for families who preferred to manage spending week by week.

Inside the metal meter box was a slot where the coins were inserted. Each coin would add a certain amount of credit to the meter. As electricity was used, the credit ticked down. When it ran out, so did the power. There was no warning. It was a straightforward system, but it meant households had to keep an eye on the meter, especially in the evening when lights, televisions, and heaters were all in use.

The equivalent of the coin meter today is the prepayment meter. The modern version uses a card or key, which is topped up by a visit to a local shop or post office. You can pay the shop with coins, but the meter is all digital.

Unlike the old coin meters, prepayment meters allow an emergency payment. If the electricity runs out, you can use it straight away. Of course, you are charged a daily rate of interest for it, but at least the lights are kept on until you can top up again.

Not so in the 1960s and 70s. Once the lights went out, you were in the dark until you fed the coin meter again.

The Lights Go Out

For those of us who lived with the coin meters, we remember the familiar moment when the lights suddenly went out, especially at night.

Darkness.

And silence — except for the occasional cursing of the meter.

One minute you were enjoying a programme that everyone wanted to see — the next, total darkness. Shouting could be heard.

“Not now. I’m going to miss it. Anyone got a light so I can see what I’m doing?” Mam or Dad would cry out as they searched for that magical coin that would bring back the light.

And when video recorders became available in the 1970s, you could be recording a programme, and then the electricity ran out. Or you went out, set the timer, only to come home to a blank tape or the final ten minutes lost when the meter cut out.

When cooking, it became a household emergency.

“Quickly, feed that meter; there’s a chicken in the oven.”

Sometimes, someone would immediately say the obvious:

“Has the meter run out?”

Coins then had to be found, often in a hurry.

If pockets and purses didn’t have the right coins or were empty, someone was given the task of running down to the corner shop, the off-licence, or the local pub. As a last resort, you hoped a neighbour was home and borrowed from them.

On one occasion, my Dad made that trip to the pub to get some change, and two hours later he was still there.

“Well, Stan offered to buy me a drink. I couldn’t say no, could I?” Was his excuse.

Mam wasn’t impressed.

Did You Know… Life in 1960s/70s Britain: You Once Needed a Radio Licence To Listen To The Radio?

When tuning in legally required a licence. It was a paper licence that came in a variety of colours over the years, including light blue and green.

 

Yes, for much of the 20th century in Britain, you needed a licence simply to listen to the radio. Long before the modern era of streaming subscriptions and smart speakers, and before television dominated the living room, radio was the nation’s main source of news, entertainment, and music. For years, in most homes, the radio was the height of technology.

And if you owned a wireless set, as it was called back then, you were expected to pay for the privilege. Not just for the radio itself, which was not affordable to everyone, but for a yearly licence to listen to it.

Where It All Began

The radio licence dates back to 1922, when the newly formed British Broadcasting Company began regular broadcasts. At the time, like most new technology that had the power to change the lives of people, radio was considered revolutionary. 

To fund broadcasting, the government introduced a licence fee of 10 shillings. It was intended to regulate ownership of receiving equipment. In 1923, 200,000 licences were issued. By 1930, it was three million, and by 1949, over nine million.

When the Company became the British Broadcasting Corporation in 1927, the licence system remained in place. The principle behind it was to provide the BBC with a steady, independent source of income. This would be free from advertising and commercial sponsorship. It was a principle that would shape British broadcasting for decades, and still does.

Owning a radio without a licence was technically illegal. There were inspectors who had the authority to investigate suspected evasion. Fines could be imposed for non-compliance, and there was genuine public awareness, and questioning, of the requirement.

BBC radio even had its own listings magazine. It was called The Radio Times, and for years all it listed and promoted, was BBC radio programmes. When BBC1 and then BBC2 television arrived, that changed. The magazine remains today, and although radio is now only a small part of it, the name remains as a historical, and nostalgic, reminder.

A Fixture of Everyday Life

By the 1960s and 70s, radio was part of our daily lives. As with all technology aimed at the masses, over time the cost of a radio became more affordable. Sets sat on kitchen counters, bedside tables and in the living room. Many homes would have several radios, and all were covered by one licence.

Even as television became the dominant technology for entertainment in the home, the radio remained. Families woke to the morning news, listened to drama serials, comedy, and from the 1960s, pop music. In 1967, BBC Radio 1 hit the air waves, a final recognition that there was a youth culture in Britain that had and wanted its own music. This was partly a response to the pirate radio ships like Radio Caroline.

Even after television arrived, and had its own licence, the licence requirement for BBC radio still applied. If your household owned a radio, you still had to hold a valid radio licence. This meant that most homes had two licences, one for television and another for radio. Over time, combined licences were introduced, but the radio-only licence remained cheaper.

While the funding from each licence went to the BBC, both covered the BBC, commercial television and radio. But, even if you only watched commercial television, and listened to commercial radio, like today, you still needed a licence to do so. 

Did You Know… Life in 1960s/70s Britain: The Red Phone Box Era - Telecoms Before Mobile and Smartphones

 

We made arrangements; “I’ll meet you there” was a firm commitment — and that was that.

It’s almost impossible now to imagine daily life without a mobile or smartphone.

Today, that little tech gadget allows us to carry the internet, ask AI anything, take photos, write diary or journal entries, use an endless number of apps, watch news and talk to anyone. Everywhere we go, we now have access to the wider world. It’s all there in our pockets.

But in 1960s and 70s Britain, none of that existed. Somehow, we got by; life worked perfectly well — for most of the time, that is.

Out and About

When we left our homes, there were no texts to say you were running late. No reminders of when and where you needed to be, or quick calls to check where someone was. There was no watching films or playing games on the go. No scrolling while waiting, or just checking your social media replies.

If you spoke to anyone, it might be the bus conductor when you got your fare or a polite nod of the head and chat if you passed someone you knew. When you left the house, you were simply… unavailable, on a journey from A to B. It was expected that at some point you would get to B, and until that moment, you were incommunicado.

And that was normal.

Plans Meant Commitment

We had to make arrangements in advance, often days or weeks before, and remember them. “Meet outside the pub at seven” was not a suggestion; it was a commitment. If you were late, there was no way to phone and explain. The other person either waited or assumed you weren’t coming and moved on.

This involved discipline and trust. We took it for granted that if you arranged to meet someone, they would be there. Of course, it didn’t always work out. That pretty girl who you thought you had a date with might not turn up — “You were stood up!” Friends would say and laugh, as if it had never happened to them.

Everyone knew what it was like to be “stood up”.

Getting Lost and Staying Lost

Today, if you have a smartphone, it is difficult to get lost. Assuming your battery hasn’t run out, it can provide directions with a few taps. In the 1960s and 70s, whether walking or driving, navigation relied on printed road atlases, street signs, and asking strangers for directions.

Drivers kept folded maps in glove compartments. Passengers became “back seat drivers”, giving directions when necessary. Cars didn’t have their own built-in GPS or navigation systems, either. Journeys into the unknown were planned beforehand. If you got lost, you stopped and asked someone. And sometimes you stayed lost for quite a while.

You problem-solved, paid attention, learnt and remembered your routes.

Then there were those journeys where you would have to be there if you wanted a lift from someone who had a car.

“Don’t be late; we have to get to the concert by eight — I won’t wait. If you are not there, you will have wasted your money buying the ticket.” My mate with the car taking me to a must-see concert, told me.

I was late, but only by a few minutes, and the car was nowhere to be seen.

That happened in the summer of 1977, when I bought a ticket to see a new, hot band of the time — their name escapes me now — and I was left wandering the backstreets of a decidedly dodgy area.

What I do remember is that I still got to the concert, as I walked the four miles to the gig, asking for directions along the way. I missed the warm-up act — thank goodness for support bands. The concert was well attended, and on that night, I never found the mate who left me stranded. I had a long walk home.

The Home Telephone

Most households that had a telephone had just one, usually downstairs, perhaps in the hallway (assuming where you lived had a hallway). The first home that I lived in that had a phone was in the mid-seventies. Back then, there was only one state national telecoms supplier — the GPO (General Post Office). They eventually became British Telecom and were privatised in the 1980s.