Did You Know… Life In 1960s/70s Britain: You Had to Put Money Into a Coin Meter for Electricity?

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.

The Twelve Posts of Christmas 2025 - Day Five: Shopping like It's The 1970s

It’s Christmas, 2025, but yesterday out shopping, I was reminded of the 1970s. No, it wasn’t the sound of Slade or Wizard singing about Christmas over the tannoy; it was too early for that. I was looking at the prices on the shelf. 

It has become a holiday tradition for certain supermarkets, on this day, Aldi and Lidl, to reduce prices on a number of staple Christmas food items — usually, Christmas dinner.

The prices were at 1970s level.

Potatoes, carrots, sprouts, shallots, parsnips, and turnip were all priced at eight pence. At Lidl, I bought one of each: potatoes, carrots, sprouts and shallots, for thirty-two pence. The receipt told me what the discount was — £3.87.

You would need a time machine to see prices like that.

The UK has been going through a cost of living crisis for some time, and inflation is always there. The longer you live, the more of it you see and remember. Growing up as a young boy in the 1960s and 70s, I saw plenty of inflation. My pocket money, and earnings from the paper round, did not go far. Little changes in that regard, although I gave up delivering newspapers long ago.

So, if you live in the UK and have an Aldi or Lidl nearby, go and get a bargain, and party like it’s 1970!

** An update: I went to my local Lidl this morning (19th Dec), and they have dropped their price to five pence. It's more like shopping in the 1960s now.

And as I left the store, over the tannoy, Noddy Holder and Slade were singing Merry Xmas...

More can be found here: The Twelve Posts of Christmas

 

Image by CrimsonMystique from Pixabay

Did You Know… Life in 1960s/70s Britain: People Would Phone the Speaking Clock, Known As TIM (and some still do)?

So yes, did you know people really did phone the Speaking Clock — thousands of calls a day — just to set the time? Another wonderfully peculiar detail of everyday British life from a world that didn’t yet run on digital certainty.

 

There are some bits of everyday life from the 1960s and 70s that younger generations struggle to believe. Like how we would phone a number just to find out the exact time. And we would pay to do so as well. But for decades, the Speaking Clock was as essential to British households as the kettle, the teasmade, and the bedside alarm clock.

Phoning the Speaking Clock became a regular part of our lives.

Before smartphones, digital displays, checking the internet, or shouting out to Siri or Alexa, “Hey, what time is it?”, the Speaking Clock was the most reliable way to find out the correct time.

And people used it. A lot. At its peak, it received tens of thousands of calls a day. It even had a human name — of sorts. If you dialled TIM (or later, 123), you were immediately greeted by an unmistakably British voice.

Imagine the scene — I need to know the time.

“Mam, what’s the time? The clock has stopped.” I would shout out.

“I haven’t got my watch on; give TIM a call.”

Of course, you would need to have a landline phone at home, and ours didn’t arrive until the mid-1970s. But when it did, it was a novelty to call the Speaking Clock.

“At the third stroke, the time will be…” TIM spoke, followed by three neat pips.

It was simple, functional, and, in its own way, a tiny bit magical.

Did You Know… Life in 1960s/70s Britain: Central Heating Wasn't Common in British Homes Until the Late 1970s?

 

So yes, did you know that for most UK households, central heating didn’t become the norm until the late 1970s? Many of us grew up in cold bedrooms and homes where keeping warm in winter was a yearly challenge.

This morning was cold. I looked out of the window and noticed that every roof was covered in ice. Cars and the pavements were iced over as well. And, officially, winter hasn’t begun yet.

At least today, we have central heating to keep out the cold.

If you grew up in a British home before the late 1970s, you’ll know that heating the house — the whole house — was being optimistic. Heating a room, usually a single room, was a more accurate description of family life.

The idea that every room could be warmed at the turn of a thermostat belonged firmly to the future. If you were well-off, or posh, maybe you could afford it, but there was no one like that in my neighbourhood. Futuristic TV adverts and the pages of the Ideal Home magazine promised a better future, but for most of us, central heating was an exotic luxury, like a colour TV or crisps in flavours other than ready salted.

The typical UK home of the 60s and 70s was built around the living room fire. It was king. King Coal, in fact. That single fire was expected to heat the entire family and, if you were lucky, most of the downstairs. Bedrooms? Bathrooms (if you had one)? The landing? Those were places you dashed through at speed, wrapped in a dressing gown, determined to complete your journey before frostbite set in.

Condensation wasn’t a minor annoyance — it ran down single-glazed windows like a miniature waterfall, creating small black mould that everyone pretended not to notice. This was long before the days of double glazing, and insulation in houses was, well, what was insulation? In winter, ice on the inside of windows wasn’t unusual. Your bedroom felt less like a domestic space and more like a poorly insulated Arctic outpost.

An icebox.