But in old age, looking back on my life, I realize I had a pretty unique and privileged life, all be it, a very definitely middle class one. Just not the typical middle-class expected from someone growing up and being educated in a London suburb.
One of the unusual aspects of my childhood was that when I was about 12 my parents got a daily newspaper delivered to the house just for me; by that, I mean a newspaper of my choice. In the 21st-century in North America it is difficult to appreciate how literate the British population is. All classes, working class to landed gentry, read daily papers and were well served by a huge choice.
My parents choice of newspaper was the Daily Express and the Daily Mail, I chose the Daily Mirror, for the very 12-year-old reason that I liked their comic pages. (It was usually considered as a paper for the working classes. It supported the Labour Party in its political outlook.) Although, to its credit, the Daily Mirror had a terrific political correspondent who wrote under the pen name Cassandra. ( Look it up! ) I came to appreciate his analysis more when I was older.
My dad would wake me up with a cuppa tea and a paper. Now if that isn’t the epitome of privilege I don’t know what is.
One of my most striking memories a good 61 years ago was of February 4 1959, when I woke up to the daily mirrors headline reporting on the death of Buddy holly, Ritchie Valens and the Big Bopper.
The day the music died. As Don Maclean sang in American Pie.
Well said-so true.
ReplyDelete