The 1970's


Oh the simple 1970's, I'm so glad that I was there. Where every head was feathered, and every jean a flare.

Those crazy days of fashion, the jump suits and the smocks. Tank tops in rainbow colours, the psychedelic frocks.

Our boots were patent leather, we had platforms on our shoes. Fluffy slippers in the bedroom, there was so much to choose.

We had mini skirts and midis, pop sox over our tights. We thought that we were trendy but quite often looked a fright.

Crombie coats or Duffles, or a padded Anorack? It doesn't seem too likely that they will ever make it back.

Or a tweedy hacking jacket atop a cheesecloth shirt, with chiffon scarves floating o’er a patchwork brown suede skirt.

The men bought corduroy trousers, like the man from C and A. And had shirts with out sized collars in colours bright and gay.

And some of us wore ponchos and a Tam O Shanter hat. Baby doll pyjamas and hair tied in one big plait.

We didn't have a mobile to help us keep in touch, we really didn't bother no one ever made a fuss.

We met up in the discos, our flares were overlapping. And when we started dancing our collars would be flapping.

And if you liked the Rollers, there'd be tartan round your wrists. Like Braveheart on the dance floor pretending you were pissed.

And the men grew hairy side burns and opened up their shirts, their names on id bracelets as they tried their best to flirt.

The girls drank dry Martini’s or a port and lemonade, with blusher on their cheek bones and green or blue eye shade.

The boys might have a shandy and a packet of pork scratchings, with a condom in their pocket in case some girls were catching.

I miss my days of summer when everything seemed simple, and all we really cared about was if we got a pimple.

Thank you the 1970's I'll remember you always, with peace and love and friendship lost in multi coloured haze. Jan Millward©

©Jan Millward, 2018

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