I’ve written a short piece for today’s Mail on Sunday about how much I enjoyed the summer of ’76. Luckily, there were no climate change alarmists and public health panjandrums around back then to tell us to stay indoors, unlike during the current heatwave.
For me, the extraordinary summer of ’76 holds some of my happiest childhood memories. I was a healthy 13-year-old boy living in North London who spent as much time as I could playing outside with my friends.
According to experts at the time, it was the hottest summer in the British Isles for 350 years.
It certainly wasn’t an excuse to cancel sports day and stay inside. Rather, the unrelenting good weather was just a stroke of good fortune and we were determined to make the best of it.
I kept a diary back then and flicking through its pages brings it all flooding back. Far from avoiding danger, my friends and I sought it out wherever we could.
‘In the morning I phoned up Edward to see if he could come skateboarding because he’s just bought one from Hamleys,’ I wrote on June 19. ‘We play a game called Death Race 2000 where you have to push each other off.’
One time that summer I went boarding barefoot and cut my big toe so badly I needed stitches. Luckily, we were able to get a face-to-face meeting with our local GP straight away and he stitched up the toe on the spot. Those were the days.
Worth reading in full.
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