I was born in a time of great hope, when Britain was shaking off the last of wartime restrictions and looking forward to a bright new future. I’ve always felt that this was a great time to be born. After all the trials and hardships of World War II, the birth of my generation represented the nation’s hopes for a better life. How wonderful to have been born into a safer world, in peacetime, in the care of the NHS. The new queen came to the throne in 1952 on the death of her father, King George VI, and we entered a new Elizabethan age.
Fast forward to 1958 – my eight-year-old self was filled with high hopes of becoming a prima ballerina. I was utterly undaunted by the fact that I was living in Glasgow’s inner city. Dance academies were rarer than hen’s teeth in our area, but that didn’t matter – hope prevailed! One day, I thought, I will be in the spotlight dancing the Dying Swan.
That hope died, just like the swan, but it was replaced by a series of childhood hopes and dreams that existed far beyond the realities of our ordinary lives. The ordinary became extraordinary through these dreams, and the world was my oyster. Let no-one tell me differently!
The Swinging Sixties came blasting in on a wave of music. Rock was king. The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Who, The Kinks – to name but a few – gave us the songs that were the soundtrack to our lives.
Early in the decade, I was caught between hope and trepidation at the thought of the impending “Quallys” (the qualifying exam taken in the last year of primary school). It was important because we were streamed into various levels of secondary education according to the results. “Quallys” over, secondary school finished, I launched myself into the world of work, signing myself up for nursing training.
It was hard work, but we had lots of fun. We looked forward to going out to Glasgow’s many dance venues, and we were spoiled for choice. It was a time filled with music, colour, and laughter – plus dedication to the ever-changing fashions!
In July 1969 the world was filled with hope and fascination when Apollo 11 launched from Cape Kennedy, carrying astronauts Neil Armstrong, Michael Collins and Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin to the moon. We were glued to our black and white TV screens. Seeing Neil Armstrong take the first step on to the lunar surface and to hear him say those iconic words – “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” – was amazing. What a way to end a decade!
In the seventies, marriage and children turned my focus towards hope for my family. The world was changing, and like any young mother, I hoped that life would be kind to them. Grandchildren came along, with their own hopes and dreams, and it’s a privilege to see their lives unfold in many ways.
Now, almost quarter of the way through a new century, my husband and I are retired. We have time for our various interests, and new hobbies such as painting and woodwork have come our way. Life is very rewarding,
Although the world’s troubles often dominate the news, I am grateful for my garden. It’s a little oasis of peace. Even in winter, there is always something to see. The blackbirds hopping across the lawn make me smile as they search the ground for insects with their beady eyes. Sometimes I get my paints out and try to capture the scene.
On this bright, cold February day, as I write, beautiful drifts of snowdrops light up the countryside, and shine in a wee corner of my garden. They are such modest little flowers, yet they push up through the iron-hard earth, bringing with them a sense of spring, and a perennial message of hope.