The quest for moral compass; coming of age in the 70's

We were searchers. I grew from primary playground certainties and the landmarks of World Cup victory, Buzz Aldrin first man on the moon and Sandie Shaw winning for England with Puppet on a String. Then followed the paralysis of adolescent social withdrawal. At 15 I only felt human and accepted in my Saturday job at Clark's bakery, away from pressures of home and school.

Then what? Looking back the era seems rougher, more violent than today. At bus stops and train stations, buying a cake to eat in  the street, I overheard my generation's talk of fighting. Pubs 'with a rough element', skinheads 'bashing' youngsters their age because they hated the color of their skin. Illegal initials worn as badges, GBH, ABH, TDA, 'Up in court', it took me a few seconds to decipher that, were they presented in front of Queen Elizabeth? I learned by listening but I didn't want to join.

A lot of tension boiling in domestic cauldrons. We had new houses, new schools, new shopping centres but the anger, pain and frustrations left by the War didn't dissolve. Dads under fifty died of heart attacks, boys my age were on steroids for asthma, choked by feelings they were forbidden to express. Girls were expected to shrink into the rings given by their fiances;older women, mothers and office supervisors often shoved the deviants back into the cattle pen.

Drink, drugs, casual sex, loud music, we sometimes thought as the young do that we were bad. It was our search for bearings, for limits, for how far we should go. Coming of  age pure and simple. My daughters are older than me, I still agree with it.