The Week I Grew Up

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I’m making one of my occasional visits to John Holton’s Writers’ Workshop, for which one of this week’s prompts is to “write about the event that was the end of your childhood.” I wrote about this ten years ago and reprised that post three years later, and though several of those who liked and commented at the time are still with me the majority of you are much more recent followers, so I thought it a good idea to edit and update it for John’s theme.

I originally titled the piece Summer Of ’69, which many of you will instantly recognise as being a song by Bryan Adams, from his album Reckless (1984). Adams has been a little vague about the meaning of the song, having at different times suggested that it was about sexual exploration (but the use of the apostrophe would seem to disprove that) or, more probably, that it is a song about nostalgia in general, and not the actual year 1969. I, however, am taking it literally, as that summer was a momentous time for me and I can never hear the song without thinking back.

I was 15 through that summer, and had my 16th birthday in September 1969. I was at the age of teenage awakenings – realising that there was more to life than school, my mates and football, cricket, tennis etc: I was madly in love with a beautiful girl who lived in our village, but she was just an unattainable dream. She was a whole year older than me, and that made such a huge difference back then! She had already left school and got herself a job, and she was far too sophisticated for me! I did manage to go out with her a couple of times but even then I could see that I stood no chance. It would take an incredible coincidence for her to read this so I think I’m safe in telling you that she was called Sue. Actually, now I come to think of it, there were two beautiful girls called Sue in our village, so that may keep them guessing. Except for the one I didn’t go out with, that is….

The law on working ages was more relaxed in those days, and since January that year I had been working on Sundays in a coffee bar in the nearby town, Dover. Winters back then are set in my mind as being colder and snowier than today, and as Sunday shopping hadn’t yet been legislated there was hardly a soul around in town on a cold, snowy winter’s day. The coffee bar’s owners were well aware of this but preferred to stay open for any passing trade on every day that they could – they were relaxed about how I spent my time as long as I opened the place up, served all of the customers, did the washing up and closed up at the end of the day. This gave me plenty of time to myself, and meant that I could actually get paid while doing my school homework – a real result!

So I spent my Sundays with an occasional passer by, a Russian sailor who came in whenever his ship was in port (I always imagined that he must have been a spy to be allowed ashore!) and at some point in the afternoon a group of four lads from the local public school, when they were allowed time out for good behaviour. I like to think that my sitting there translating Caesar’s Gallic Wars into English helped redress the intellectual balance between public and grammar school, and perhaps made them look slightly more favourably on us poor oiks who weren’t amongst the privileged! (In the UK education system, ‘public’ schools are actually the opposite: they are fee paying schools for those who can afford them).

Fast forward several months and this became my first ever summer job. For the whole school holiday I was going to be working six days a week earning my own money – every day except Sunday, ironically. This date has been forever set in my mind, as the US rather kindly arranged a special celebration for me:

Yes, I started my summer job on 21 July 1969, having been up most of the night watching TV! Summer days on which people were at work or out shopping were much busier than winter Sundays, and there were three of us working there. We were busy, we had a lot of laughs, and the time flew by – and I fell in love again, with my co-worker this time: sadly, Claire had a boyfriend and was moving away, so that was another potential relationship doomed before it had begun! By the end of the summer I had earned enough to buy a secondhand Lambretta and as soon as I became 16 I got a provisional licence and opened up my whole horizon. Life was good, or so it seemed.

But life always has a surprise waiting for you, doesn’t it? All summer long I had been working towards my dream of buying that motor scooter and of being legally allowed to ride it. It was going to be the absolute best week of my young life so far. As I look back on that week I realise that it was one of the most important in my life, and still is even to this day. I was 16 on the Tuesday, paid over my money and bought the scooter on the Thursday, and then on the Saturday my Dad left home to be with the woman he had fallen for. He and my stepmother, as she became, were blissfully happy for 54 years, until Dad passed away, so it was clearly the right thing for him to do. But for me life changed. I stopped being the self-centred teenager and in an instant became the man of the house. I had seen this coming but my poor Mum didn’t have a clue and took it really badly. I had a lot of help from my sister, but she was 13 and being very much Daddy’s little girl took it badly too.

As a result, I grew up rather more rapidly than I would ever have expected. Whilst I still enjoyed the same lifestyle in general there was a new dimension to it. I was now the one doing some of the business of the house, helping with the shopping, making the occasional phone call etc. With 20/20 hindsight (always a wonderful thing) I was probably helped enormously in my development by this, but it didn’t feel like it at the time. It’s not as though I’ve ever resented my Dad for what he did – feeling as he did it would have been wrong to stay with Mum any longer than he had already done ‘for the sake of the children’  – but my new found freedom of being a teenager with his own wheels didn’t happen quite as I had hoped! But at least I had a good relationship with both parents, and even managed to achieve the first rapprochement between them at the Christening of my first daughter. It only took 18 years!

So that was very much the time my childhood came to an end, in a very abrupt and largely unforeseen way. I still had a lot of fun in my life, but had been given an introduction to the responsibilities of adulthood rather sooner than I might have anticipated. And all of that comes back to me every time I hear this:

It’s strange, really, how much someone else’s song can mean to you, for reasons they could never have imagined.

43 thoughts on “The Week I Grew Up”

  1. Pingback: A Bad Day | Take It Easy

  2. Oldest children always carry a big load in families, especially when things go wrong. My father went insolvent when I was in my first year of high school and while I did stay at school, it was a terrible time for me. I happened a second time when I was about 23. I was working full time and studying to become a chartered accountant. I have contributed financial towards my family and then just my parents my whole life.

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  3. I was expecting to read about your Lambretta adventures, not expecting turn! Gosh Clive, what a life changing moment for you all and such a young age for yourself and your sister. Something like that does change and shape you, it just came at a time when everything else was happening. What a tune to remember that time though, that tune is awesome! Sim #SSPS

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  4. A life changing event right after your 16th Birthday… Luckily it did you a favour though it was probably hard to see at the time. …Life is strange when you look back …A really nice post Clive 😊

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  5. You were a brave lad, to step up and take care of your family after your Dad left. And it’s wonderful you didn’t hold it against him! A sure sign of maturity.

    The summer of ’69 was a pivotal time for many of us, it seems. Bryan’s song definitely brings those memories to the fore. 🙂

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    • It didn’t feel brave, it just felt like what needed to be done. I never ever thought about holding it against him – he was following his heart.

      1969 was a momentous year, in many ways.

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  6. 16 is such a life changing age in general — growing into yourself as your independence expands, falling in love again (and again). It’s quite a time in life. Your story about your dad leaving brings so many feelings: admiration that you could appreciate how he needed to go, sadness that you were surrounded by women struggling so much (though I surely understand why they struggled, it must have been hard for a 16-year-old to shoulder the emotional weight), being impressed that you could step up in ways that helped and maintain a good relationship with both parents.

    What a beautifully written piece about a vulnerable time in your life. Well done.

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    • Thank you for your very kind words. It didn’t feel that difficult at the time – I just got on with things, but on reflection I must have been carrying quite a burden.

      Thank you for reading and commenting, I appreciate it.

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      • Honestly, I think about it every time I hear someone talking about becoming the man of the house at a young age. Reality dictated you had to become more responsible than the carefree teens out driving around but there’s a lot of patriarchy baked into a teen (or younger) feeling like they have to fill dad’s shoes.

        That being said, lots of us did what had to be done to keep it moving. It’s funny to me how some things that were “just how it was” to me can be surprising to my peers.

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  7. My dad also left home for another woman, but I was 23 at the time. I was already planning to marry my girlfriend, but that ended up being stalled for two years, as I had to step up like you, and be the man of the house for my mum’s sake. Kudos to you for being able to do that as a teenager, I could never have coped with that at 16.

    Best wishes, Pete.

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  8. I love coming-of-age memories because they remind us of our own.

    Opening lyrics to this fabulous song:

    I got my first real six-string
    Bought it at the five-and-dime
    Played it ’til my fingers bled
    Was the summer of ’69.

    I would have loved to have been that guy.

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  9. Great story Clive- and isn’t there more than an element of irony in wanting to be seen as a grown up with your very own wheels, chasing freedom, fun and carefree sunny days on the horizon- and Bam! The reality of having to grow up faster than is comfortable. What doesn’t break you hardens and tempers you I guess.

    As for Sue/s I mooned and dreamed over the delectable D-cupped Juanita. (Sexist? Yes, now I’m sorry ’bout that, but I was 16 at the time!) Ah well, back then we all had our impossible unattainable dreams.

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    • Life changed pretty quickly, but I still managed to mix fun with adulting. I guess I was better for the experience.

      I think every teenage boy has those dreams of the unattainable!

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  12. I love this, Clive … love learning a bit about your youth and your family, and you told it so well. I never realized that the Apollo 11 mission was done to celebrate your birthday!!! WOW! I’m trying to think of precisely when my childhood ended. Perhaps it never did. Or, perhaps I never really had a childhood. Did it end when I was 3 and my mother shoved me down the stairs, breaking my collar bone? Or did it end when I turned 13 and my dad said, “Get a job … you’re going to start paying rent!” Or, am I still a child at heart, who wants to believe the best in people?

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    • Thank you, Jill, I’m pleased this went well with you.

      I think Apollo 11 was done more to mark my first day of full (albeit temporary) employment. We were all like zombies the next day, but luckily so were the customers!

      Those are some unhappy memories of yours, and I hope you have some better ones of your childhood to draw on. You’re probably right – still a child at heart 👍

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  13. This is a fabulous story, Clive! It reminds me of that saying about making plans …. you know the one. I give your a father a lot of credit; it could not have been easy for him to make the decision to leave home to be with the woman he’d fallen in love with. I was thinking about the girl you dated …. Sue. I wonder if she might have had feelings for you that you didn’t realize at the time. After all, why would she agree to go out on several dates with you? Perhaps that’s something best left in the past. Wonderful read and great music. 🩵 🎶

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    • Thank you, Nancy, I’m glad you liked this. I admired my Dad for lots of things, and making that decision was one of them. I’m pretty sure that Sue didn’t reciprocate my feelings – I may be slow on the uptake some times but I don’t think I’m wrong there!

      The tune was a perfect fit, wasn’t it 👍

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  14. A warm story, Clive, and as a Yank I love the Englishness: mates, cricket, Russian sailors “oiks,” “Mum,” Lambrettas… You might like Tom Robinson’s song, “1969,” off Secret Policeman’s Ball.

    My childhood ended New Year’s Day, 1970. Won’t go into it, I’ll only say the 1960s were my glory years.

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  15. Thanks for sharing your story. You did well to take on responsibility at that young age, as best you could. It is funny how songs remind us of things, completely different from others. My 1969 I graduated high school and also got married. 🙂

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  16. Wonderful post Clive and clearly that time marked some pivotal changes in your life and perhaps made you mature even more quickly. It’s great you were able to maintain a close relationship with both your parents.
    Great song. Great post.

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