Last updated 10:16, Friday, 07 March 2008

IT WAS a bit of a shock to hear, last week, of the death of Mike Smith, lead singer of the Dave Clark Five.

It was even more of a shock to learn that this member of an iconic 60s band was 65 years old; too young to die but too shockingly old for my memory.

I’ve commented before on the surprise of suddenly growing older and the realisation that the wild children of the 60s were now the wild children almost in their 60s.

Never has this seemed more real than last week.

I had ventured out of Maryport to work in the Workington office so had occasion to overhear two of my colleagues.

I’ve brought my Horlicks, if you want some,” said Gill to Phil.

“No that’s okay, I’ve got my Ovaltine here,” Phil replied.

I laughed at them but then we started to talk about our fondest memories.

Phil had been a milk monitor at school and remembers how responsible he felt.

Gill went one better - she had been an ink monitor, mixing the ink and filling the ink wells.

The three of us remembered the excitement of the one day a week when we got to do a period of writing in ink - dipping wooden-handled dip pens.

We dipped them into our ink wells, wiped off the excess ink and wrote. It wasn’t as simple as that, of course. You invariably got ink all over your hands and clothes and the old, worn nibs would always throw a little wobbler half way through your beautiful writing and leave huge blobs everywhere. Blotting paper was used to dry what you had written but seemed to add to the mess

We used to believe, by the way, that if you stuck blotting paper under your tongue you would faint. It would have been a handy way to get out of lessons but I never knew anyone (including me) brave enough to try it.

Phil then recalled that he actually used a slate on his first day at school. Exercise books were introduced shortly after but he reckons we should go back to slates because they would be more environmentally friendly.

Then there was lunches - banana sandwiches that had turned brown by the time you went to eat them or tomato sandwiches that had turned the bread soggy. All washed down with a bottle of milk that had always been left out in the sun or next to the radiators.

After lunch was nap time. Phil and Gill remember little fold-up beds. I was in Zambia and we finished school before the heat of the day so our nap-time was a matter of putting our heads on our desks and being told to sleep!

As we droned on about our childhood memories we started to notice the silence in the rest of the office. We looked around to see four pairs of VERY young eyes staring at us in amazement.

In the blink of those eyes we saw ourselves as others see us!

We were the occupants of dinosaur corner.

The swinging generation had become the gently rocking generation - and only in rocking chairs at that.

We’ve swapped false eyelashes for bifocals and platform heels for slippers.

Our pancake make-up has been replaced by age replenishing cream and our fish net stockings with support hose.

We sit in our corner and complain that you can’t hear the words in modern music and it all sounds the same.

And Phil says everybody walked to school in his day and the young ones today don’t know they are born.

And now a member of the Dave Clark Five has died and he died of pneumonia. There wasn’t a fast car or a motorbike or even a drug in sight.

It’s all a worry and we need to make a pact right here and now - for goodness sake let us not grow old gracefully! Our body’s can’t take it any more but let’s at least pretend that we are still the Mods, Rockers and flower children we once were.

I’m going to make an effort just as soon as I’ve had another cup of Gill’s Horlicks!