Sometimes it's hard to be a happy bunny

In the summer of 1976 I was a very happy bunny. It was one of the hottest summers on record and I was working as a young schoolmaster in Cheltenham. There was a sense of freedom in schools at that time and so very different from these data hungry days.

I’m not that much of a cricket fan but in the summer of 1976 I did play for our school staff team. Cheltenham is, as I am sure you know, on the edge of the Cotswolds. Ancient Cotswold villages with golden sandstone buildings became wonderful venues for our weekly cricket matches.

There is something quite magical about the sound of ‘leather on willow’ on a warm midsummer evening. My ability as a cricketer is sadly very limited and my style tended to be the boundary ball or out! I can still taste the air from that atmospheric Cotswold summer.

We too often talk about the good old days. They were good in so many ways but it would be a mistake to view the past through such a nostalgic lens. As dear old LP Hartley once said, “The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.”

That hot summer long ago we spent the school holiday in Paignton visiting family. Torbay simply sparkled under the bright summer sunshine. Sailing along the coast was therapeutic and the scorched South Devon fields rather looked like sand dunes under a tropical sky. Heady stuff!

It was a time when we had numerous holiday camps dotted around South Devon and accommodation was hard to find. Luckless families toured the towns looking for vacancy notices. Roads were gridlocked and overheated cars steamed hopelessly in the heat.

By midsummer it was almost impossible to find a space to sit on the beaches and crowded trains made Paignton’s Station Square look like Paddington at rush-hour.

Of course South Devon is still a very busy place during the summer school holidays. Last summer was unusually hot but the tourism mix seems very different. Some of the changes are quite subtle whilst others almost stun.

The landscape has of course changed. So many of the large holiday camps have become housing developments and the rustle of daily newspapers has been replaced by the tap of mobile phone keypads.

Thinking back to the summer of 1976 I find it a little more difficult today to capture that quintessentially English feel that filled the air. I’m not sure why that is and for that matter whether it is of consequence.

I’d like to think that life was less complicated then. As a young schoolmaster it certainly was. I only taught for six or so years and the main daily data gathering exercise was marking the register. Scripts were handwritten and marked with flowing red or green ink. For me the biggest stress was what to do during the very long summer holiday!

Oddly enough I think that it is the schools that evidence the comparatively carefree days of 1976 and the summer of 2019. Thinking about the incredible amount of daily data collected by teachers, the worry about job loss, behavioural issues, OFSTED and the impact upon school life, I immediately see the parallels in other walks of life. That is a worry.

Add to all that the fact that I am so much older then perhaps my desire for the warm summer evenings of 1976 is nothing more than galloping nostalgia. As I write I can hear in my mind the distant sound of leather on willow and that has helped me to keep the smile………….