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When you rode your bike to the pool, and played Marco Polo all day til your lips got blue, then went across the hot tarmac to where the icecream man had parked his refrigerated truck, and got yourself a candy necklace. And then rode your bike home at the end of the day, with the smell of chlorine still in your hair?

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When you rode your bike to the pool, and played Marco Polo all day til your lips got blue, then went across the hot tarmac to where the icecream man had parked his refrigerated truck, and got yourself a candy necklace. And then rode your bike home at the end of the day, with the smell of chlorine still in your hair?

That was me except I got sour apple gum and a push up...and when I went home I roller skated until my mother made us go in because it was dark outside.

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When you rode your bike to the pool, and played Marco Polo all day til your lips got blue, then went across the hot tarmac to where the icecream man had parked his refrigerated truck, and got yourself a candy necklace. And then rode your bike home at the end of the day, with the smell of chlorine still in your hair?

That was me except I got sour apple gum and a push up...and when I went home I roller skated until my mother made us go in because it was dark outside.

 

me too, except mine was flying saucers and fun dip... or those little dots of candy on the white paper. What the heck were those called? Oh and blue icy pops.

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Afghan coats.

 

I loved afghan coats! When I was 10, my family lived in Spain while my father was making a film, and we traveled quite a lot, especially to Morrocco. This is 1971. Everyone had the most fabulous coats! Hippie freaks (especially the English :lol: ), long hair, flashing jewelry and these big smelly coats reeking of camel and hash. God, how I longed for one! My mother was appalled and refused to entertain the notion, and instead bought us all sensible brown leather car coats, much to my childish chagrin.

 

I recently acquired one last year ( a real beauty, patchwork suede with beautiful beige gold shag) and wear it proudly, a testament to childhood lust finally satisfied.

 

Do you remember when an hour was really long?

And when the possibility of staying up all night seemed like forever?

I was always so annoyed when the sun started coming up...

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A snow day was almost never called in the land of Captain Scott of the Antarctic.

 

Waiting for, then catching the school bus, on days when the snow settled thick was a miserable experience, compounded by icy wet shoes and socks. The forty minute journey could easily take two hours, which was an eternity. And either thanks to or despite the change in the clocks, darkness fell heavily before home was sighted.

 

The past sucks*, in some respects.

 

 

*Conscious Americanism.

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And did you also pop the tar bubbles that would heat up during the summer? Play running bases til it got dark? Slurp slightly-defrosted vividly-colored Ice Pops?

 

I have tried to explain the popping the tar bubbles to Ms. S., she thinks I'm whacked.

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I remember Sunday morning

I would meet her at the park

We'd walk together hand in hand

Till it was almost dark

Now I wake up Sunday morning

Walk along the lane to find

Nobody waiting for me

Sunday's just another day

 

Sunday will never be the same

(Sunday will never be the same)

I lost my baby's heart

I must be back again (??)

 

Sunny afternoons that made me feel so warm inside

Have turned as cold and gray as ashes

As I feel the embers die

No longer can I walk these paths for they have changed

I must be home the sun is gone and I think it's gonna rain

 

I remember children

Feeding flocks of pigeons

I remember sunshine and you were mine

But a-la-da-da-da-da la-da-da-da-da-da-dahhhh.

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