Gunning Down Memories
It all started with the news story about hunters and, our now infamous Spring Hunting Season.
Apart from making me feel sick to my stomach, the news flung me down memory lane and landed me with a Rubik’s Cube in hand.
Sadly, some members of my family are hunters, and years of trying to convince them to give it up landed on deaf ears, so believe me, I know that telling them to send a text as soon as they kill a bird is as naïve as our politicians pretend to be.
In fact, a truth that most hunters will never admit to in public is that if they feel that they are being watched, most would prefer not to shoot at a bird at all rather than to have to register it as part of their quota. As against their instinct as this might be, they would rather let a bird go than risk having to cut their hunting season short by reaching their quota too early.
But I digress.
Trying to imagine my late grandfather, with his thick fingers, poor eyesight and disregard for authority, having to send a text message for every quail he caught, set me thinking about how things have changed over the years.
Fun and Games
Back then we had no mobile phones, no Playstations, no Gameboys and no Wiis. The Amigas and Ataris boasted awful graphics and a sorry excuse for sound, but we had the Rubik’s Cube and our BMXs. Every teenager worth their salt had a BMX – their very own promise of freedom!
We never grumbled about how hard it was to cycle up hills without gears, instead we just cycled to our heart’s content from one end of the island to another. Eventually we were upgraded to mountain bikes and racers, but you can’t quite jump off a wall and fly over the handles with either one of those.
Back in the 80s we had one clear TV channel and another very temperamental two. Funnily though, I was never more hooked to TV than back then.
I was so addicted to TV, that to this day I can’t hear the signature tune of the A-Team without wondering how they always seemed to get trapped in a room with enough tools to build an armoured bus; I still refer to my car as KITT; I still think of Melrose Place as the perfect living arrangement; and I’m more than certain that Miami Vice is an all-time classic and that Don Johnson's t-shirt trend spoilt a good number of otherwise smart generations.
I could never remember a tune to save my life, so humming to myself for company was never an option. Then came the Walkman and suddenly we all turned into DJs sporting our own personal compilations of mixed tapes. Nothing felt as good as going around feeling like I had a one to one relationship with Bon Jovi and Paula Abdul.
Has anyone noticed how 40 has suddenly become the new 60?
Back then, at 40 you were only expected not to walk with a limp, everything else was acceptable. Today when you get to my age, you wake up in the morning and, shock horror, you see fresh lines forming, eye bags bulging, and the odd age spot screaming, but, out there, you’re still expected to look sparky and shiny. If you ask me, the age curve has been bent so out of proportion that pretty soon 80 year olds will be expected to walk in Nikes and not Zimmer Frames.
Letting things go has never been my strong point, but things are looking up.
Whilst I haven’t given up hope that one day we’ll join the rest of the civilised world and stop our shameful Spring hunting altogether, admittedly I’m still struggling with my Rubik’s Cube.
But as I said, I’m not giving up, I’m going to keep trying and hereby solemnly swear that I won’t stop…at least not until I’ve removed all the little square stickers and stuck them in their correct place.