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This is the question i get asked such a lot of times and I quite honestly have no idea of the real answer. Was it the music was much better back then or could it be that growing up in the seventies without the pressures and responsibilities that adulthood brings, will always make those sun filled days seem better. Or is there more to it than that. the sole way to discover is to tell you my story as I know it and let you decide for yourselves why the seventies are so special to me. So let us go thru the Arched window ( always my favorite ) and let me relate my story. At the time of my conception my family was living in Scarborough on the edges of Toronto, Canada. My parents and eldest brother had emigrated there one or two years earlier and my bro Barry was born there. From what my pa informs me it was a lovely place to live, in the winter fire engines would come around and shoot their hoses for an hour to make an ice skating rink for the people to skate on. Everything was idyllic until my mum got ill when she was carrying me. From what I learned from my pa she had a heart condition. And counseled by her doctor that she'd have a better chance of living if she did not have me. Well she probably did select me and therefore her health did indeed suffer. Towards the end of the pregnancy she got really bad and my pa had to sell up fast and move back to England as my mummy wanted to come home. I was born in Feb and my mother died in Aug. As my pa was forced to sell quickly he couldn't afford to keep us all together so my brother Barry went to remain with an aunt and I went into two houses and then thankfully taken in by my Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Harold in Hackney. It was here that I spent my first years of growing up, eating winkles and cockles on sunday evenings, watching The Monkees with my sister Christine and playing with our puppy labrador Nanouk which my Uncle bought to help him with his hunting. Now Nanouk had other ideas when it came to exercise for when my Uncle first took her out and shot a duck down Nanouk just looked up at him as if to point out you do not expect me to go get that do you? She never went with him again. I can remember lot's of wildfowl pies and rabbit stews whilst living there and naturally my favourite, stewed eels and mash manufactured by my Aunt Dorothy. We used to go out fishing for them with my new 'brother and sister' Richard and Christine. I should explain here that I was never told about my real folks at this time so I presumed they were my folks and so they were. My bro Richard was a lot older than me and I presumed he was God, I stood in shock of him and can recall purloining his things and hiding them under my pillow. Not because I actually wanted them but because they were his. I can also remember my sister Christine making me a wonderful cuddly bear which I loved and appreciated for years and having rows with her pop becaue he wouldn't let her watch the Monkees. I only have good memories from there. Playing with my kaleidoscope when I was sick with chicken pox. Even if I was disobedient and got sent to my room I can remember climbing out the window and shinning down the drainpipe to play in the garden in my favourite treasure chest. Oooh I was a naughty boy. It was 1967 when Harold and Dorothy took me on a drive to Leyton. I can remember pressing the button in the lift to take us up to the ninth floor.
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