There are days when modern life feels like an endless parade of warning labels: Mind the step. Hot beverage may be hot. Do not ingest the candle. And in these moments, my mind wanders back to the generations who somehow survived childhood armed with nothing but a slice of bread, an optimistic belief in gravity, and a complete absence of adult supervision.
Let us take a little wander through the decades when children were more or less left to their own devices – and astonishingly lived to tell the tale.
The era of the non-negotiable seatbelt (i.e., none)
Once upon a time, a car journey meant sliding about on shiny vinyl seats like a loose satsuma in a shopping bag. Seatbelts? Airbags? Don’t be absurd. What we had was conviction, wind in the hair, and a mother who braked sharply only when truly provoked.
The deluxe version of this experience was riding in the open back of a van, a practice today classified as “wildly illegal” but then considered “jolly good fun”.
The Nursery Decorated in… Lead
Our cots were painted in colours so vibrant they could probably be seen from the moon. The secret? A generous dash of lead. Were we bothered? No. We were too busy gnawing the bars teething like small, determined beavers.
Health & safety? Never heard of him
Child-proof medicine caps did not exist. Nor did socket covers, stair gates, or adults checking if the pond was “safe”. Danger lurked everywhere – and yet we toddled on, blissfully unaware that our childhood homes were obstacle courses of potential doom.
Bicycles came without helmets. And we rode them on actual roads, sometimes while eating a biscuit. If that doesn’t qualify us for an Olympic medal, I don’t know what does.
Hydration by garden hose
Water bottles were for astronauts. We drank straight from the garden hose – warm, metallic, slightly suspicious, and absolutely delicious.
Freedom meant being untraceable
We were ejected outdoors after breakfast with one instruction: “Back by sunset.” No phones. No GPS trackers. No anxious text messages asking “Where are you?”?We were somewhere. And that was apparently sufficient.
Family lunches: A daily event, not an occasion
School finished at lunchtime, and home we went for pasta, arguments, and the occasional reprimand. Astonishingly, even fathers attended – living proof that work once paused long enough for a family meal.
Injuries were part of the curriculum
Cuts, bruises, lost teeth… and not one parent turned it into a legal thriller. We tripped, we fell, we learned. A simple equation.
Nutritional guidance by Carb and Hope
Biscuits, bread with olive oil, fizzy drinks… yet childhood obesity was rare. Perhaps because we spent the rest of our day sprinting around the streets like small, unregistered greyhounds.
Sharing Drinks Without Having a Collective Panic Attack
One bottle + four children = completely normal. We swapped germs like Pokémon cards. No one expired.
A Social Network Known as “Knocking on the Door”
No consoles. No smartphones. If you wanted to see a friend, you cycled over, rang the bell, and hoped they hadn’t gone to their granny’s. It was a system of pure, unfiltered suspense.
Outside we played games with sticks, tennis balls, improvised rules, and zero adult referees. Some children weren’t chosen. They coped. Character building, as grown-ups liked to call it.
The Classroom of Consequences
Some pupils weren’t academic stars. When they failed, they repeated the year. No diagnosis. No twelve-week assessment. Occasionally a well-placed telling-off. And on we went.
So how did we survive?
We had freedom, risk, triumphs, mishaps, scraped knees, sunburnt noses, and the rude awakening of discovering responsibility the moment we misplaced it.
We survived because life hadn’t yet been bubble-wrapped.
And perhaps, just perhaps, that made us rather brilliant in our own ramshackle way.
If you recognise yourself in these tales of glorious chaos, share them with your fellow veterans of the Wild Childhood Era. And to the younger generations – let this be a gentle reminder: once upon a time, children roamed free, feral, and fabulously resilient.
And if all this nostalgic chaos speaks to you, you’ll find even more in London Mums’ editor Monica Costa’s book Noi di Lido Adriano – a love letter to the wonderfully unsupervised, gloriously free-range childhood her (and mine too) generation knew so well.
To us all – may life continue to be lived boldly, nostalgically, and preferably without helmets, unless strictly necessary.
Lady Rantingham: The unconventional Voice with a bit of sass
Meet Lady Rantingham, a witty and rebellious spirit who brings a fresh twist to the “Rant” theme. While her name might evoke a touch of aristocracy, she’s anything but conventional. With a playful, humorous tone and a slight air of authority, Lady Runtingham is here to run riot on just about anything – especially the things that bother her.
Whether it’s the little annoyances of everyday life or the larger absurdities of the world around her, Lady Runtingham isn’t afraid to call out what grinds her gears. Her rants are filled with sharp wit, unfiltered thoughts, and an unapologetic perspective that blends rebellion with a dash of humour.
Her commentary goes beyond just mockery; she touches on everything from societal quirks to the frustrating intricacies of modern life, all while maintaining a sense of lighthearted authority. Lady Runtingham isn’t just runting about the monarchy — she’s ranting about anything that makes her roll her eyes.
