Vacancy for the positions of Compo and Clegg

There were clues around the house that the owner was about my age, nearly fifty.

Us children of the early to mid 1960's do recognise each other from a mutual well balanced outlook on life perhaps no more displayed than in our appreciation of culture and good music.

We also, invariably, carry some of the scars emotionally and physically from growing up in tumultuous times. We are survivors of terry nappies, alcoholic gripe water, carcinogenic plastics, that wonder material asbestos, other noxious substances in everyday implements and use, unrestrained travel in motor vehicles, unprotected from falling into ponds and rivers and generally being brought up in a world where Health and Safety was just known as plain old common sense.

If something looked hot, like an iron or an electric bar fire, it was. Touching it proved that beyond doubt. I once put my finger into a power socket for the Christmas Tree lights to confirm that it would provide a jarring and startling shock. I also had first hand knowledge that if the water looked deep and the seaside slipway was covered in a treacherous algae and seaweed then it was dangerous.

Exposure to hazards did not stop us from being adventurous and playful, no way.

Admittedly some of our generation did fall by the wayside and that was tragic but the rest of us represent them and pay tribute to them by being proud and loud as we reach that 50 year milestone.

The house in question had some wonderful posters from local venues advertising the likes of The Damned, Bauhaus, The Slits and The Sex Pistols.

They were from my period of awakening and enlightenment to rock and indie music marking a breaking away from previously looking forward to inheriting the record collection of my parents. Not that Sandie Shaw, Petula Clark, Vince Hill, Cliff Richard, Gerard Hoffnung, The Chipmunks and Black Dyke Mills Brass Band have not contributed to music in their own spheres of activity.

In a roundabout way I sounded out the house owner about the posters.

Yes, he had been to the gigs in 1978 and 1979. That placed him definitely in my age group although arguably he had kept himself in better shape than me. The handlebar moustache, however, did put a good additional ten years on him but went with the classic motorbike in the hall and the restored VW Camper Van out in the garage.

We got to talking and found that we did have a lot in common and even knew some of the same people although that would make for quite a exercise to work out how.

He was not looking forward to his forthcoming milestone birthday and was keen to sound me out how I felt about it as I am now only two weeks away from mine.

I am perfectly relaxed about the whole thing.

There are positives such as cheaper car insurance, a lower chance of being conscripted in the event of another major conflict, forgiveness for outrageous political incorrectness, not ever having to play 5 a side football again, attaining the status of a wise guru and through accumulated experience, putting those brash and noisy 30 and 40 somethings in their place.

We glossed over the negatives such as the occasional creaking hip and knee joints, shortness of breath after climbing stairs, being susceptible to a hernia and having to take a deep breath and hold it in when in proximity to an attractive member of the opposite sex.

In another era we would certainly  have been good mates, out on the town, pogoing at punk gigs, getting drunk and talking for hours on end about politics, society, injustices, girls, cars, bikes and life in general. We may even have foretold this very moment but laughed at the thought of being a couple of old men, standing in a kitchen and reminiscing about the good old days.

He was a little ahead of me in the pursuit of his youthful dreams in that he already had a pair of leather trousers but he confirmed that, indeed, they are impractical and quickly go out of shape. At least that saved me a few agonising hours of trying to convince myself that I needed to make such a rebellious fashion statement.

I felt that my own upbeat views on approaching 50 helped him to concentrate his mixed feelings and state of mind and we parted company the best of new found friends.