Growing Up in the 80s: Music, Humour and the Little Things We Miss

There was something about growing up in the 80s that you don't quite get in the same way today.

We had no social media, no endless scrolling, no smartphones glued to our hands, and certainly no one filming their dinner to put online. If you wanted entertainment, you had to find it yourself. Thankfully, we had television, music, family, friends and a rather questionable sense of humour.

And in our house, humour was practically a family requirement.

I grew up with two older brothers who shared my love of dry wit, sarcasm and the sort of comedy that could have you laughing long after everyone else had moved on. Monty Python was comedy gold, and Peter Kay has that wonderful ability to make ordinary life absolutely hilarious. Because sometimes the funniest things are the ones we all recognise but nobody thinks to mention.

Growing up, the television was a big part of our entertainment. Game shows, comedy shows, the sort of programmes that brought people together in the living room. You watched what was on, and if you missed it, well, that was that. No streaming it three minutes later. No catch-up. No asking Alexa to find it for you.

You either saw it or you didn't.

Character building, apparently.

Our House Had More Musical Variety Than a Radio Station

One thing I can safely say about my childhood is that we were never short of musical variety.

Mum loved her country and Irish music. The Dubliners, Foster and Allen, and all those songs that seemed to be permanently woven into the fabric of family life.

Then there was my eldest brother, who was into the Eagles, Queen and John Lennon. A fine selection, really.

And then came brother number two.

Deep Purple. Black Sabbath. Wishbone Ash. Heavy rock, guitars, volume and enough musical intensity to make you wonder whether the house was about to take off.

Somewhere between Mum's Irish ballads and the heavy rock, I grew up with a musical education that was, shall we say, eclectic.

You didn't need Spotify to discover different genres in our house. You just needed to walk into the wrong room at the wrong time.

One minute you could be listening to a lovely Irish song, and the next you were being introduced to a guitar solo that sounded as though someone was trying to dismantle the furniture.

And that was family life.

The Magic of a Vinyl Record

There was something genuinely special about owning a vinyl record.

You'd get the record out, carefully place it on the turntable, put your headphones on and settle down to listen. Properly listen.

You didn't jump from one song to another because you got bored after twelve seconds. You listened to the tracks one by one, often in the order the artist intended. You looked at the album cover, read the sleeve notes and got to know the music.

An album wasn't just a collection of songs. It was an experience.

And if you wanted to listen to something new, there was always the local library.

Yes, the library.

You could borrow vinyl records for a week, take them home and record the music onto a blank cassette tape. It was a wonderful way to discover artists and music you might never have bought yourself.

Of course, you had to plan your recording rather carefully. There was always the possibility of someone talking over the beginning of a song, or the radio presenter deciding that the middle of your favourite track was the perfect time to announce the next programme.

Nothing like a little human interference to add character to your personal music collection.

And if you managed to record the whole song without interruption, you felt like you'd achieved something remarkable.

Today, you can find almost any song in seconds. Back then, getting hold of the music you wanted took a little effort, and perhaps that's why it felt so good when you finally had it.

The Things We Don't Quite Realise We've Lost

I sometimes think about all the little things that were part of everyday life back then.

The excitement of getting a new record. The anticipation of your favourite television programme. The cassette tapes you recorded yourself. The family jokes that never really made sense to anyone outside the house.

There was no need to document every moment. You just lived it.

We made our own entertainment, found our own fun and learned to appreciate the things we had. We didn't have everything available at the touch of a button, but perhaps that made some things feel a little more special.

I'm not saying everything was better. Let's not get carried away. There were some truly questionable hairstyles, and fashion has a lot to answer for.

But there was something lovely about those everyday experiences that stayed with you.

Perhaps that's why I have such a soft spot for little treasures, quirky finds and things that bring back memories. Sometimes an object, a sound or even a familiar tune can take you straight back to a moment in time.

And isn't that what makes certain things special?

It's not always about what something costs or how fashionable it is. Sometimes it's about the memories attached to it, the smile it brings, or the story it reminds you of.

A Little Nostalgia Never Hurt Anyone

At Cheshire Home Trinkets, I love the idea that the things we choose to surround ourselves with can have a bit of personality.

A little something that makes you smile. Something quirky, unusual or simply too lovely to leave behind. A piece that reminds you of a person, a place or a time when life felt a little different.

Maybe it's because I grew up in a house full of music, humour and characters. Maybe it's because I remember a time when entertainment involved a television schedule and recording a song required the patience of a saint.

Or maybe I'm just getting older.

I shall leave that one open to interpretation.

But I do know that the little things matter. The memories, the laughter, the music and those everyday moments that become part of who we are.

And if we can find a few more things to make us smile along the way, then surely that's no bad thing.

Even if we don't actually need another trinket.

Although, in my defence, that has never really been the point.

Welcome to Cheshire Home Trinkets — where the little things can mean a lot, and there's always room for a little humour along the way.