Summer of ’26
Some of you may be old enough to remember the Summer of ‘76 . 1976 that is of course. Last century. I had just become a teenager and the summer holidays were full of fun and hope of good things to come. I remember having our school photograph taken just before the end of term, shortly after I’d reached the ripe old age of 13. I stood on the raked benches scrunched up against my schoolmates in our summer uniform of grey pleated skirt , pale blue short-sleeved Aertex shirt , long white socks and tan school sandals (yes, I know, sounds awful - but it was the 70s after all!). The thought running through my head as we smiled for the camera, a moment in time immortalised on film, was how little of life I actually had left - just a few years of being a teenager followed by adulthood and then the decades would slip seamlessly past: my twenties, my thirties, forties and fifties and before you knew it I’d be old and life would practically be over. When you have a head full of young hopes ...
