Family life: My mod gear, Arthur Brown's Fire and Granny's loc-loc

http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2014/apr/12/mod-gear-arthur-brown-fire-grannys-purple-loc-loc

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Snapshot: My 'sensible' look for a big occasion

It was the summer of 1983, and to celebrate my grandparents' 50th anniversary, my parents, Jackie and Peter, took us to a quaint family-run hotel in Southend for the weekend.

As usual, before we set off for family occasions, I was reminded by my mother: "Wear something sensible!" – ie, no jeans, T-shirts or trainers. So out went my bleached Levis, donkey jacket and moccasins and in came my newly acquired mod gear; boating blazer, sky blue Sta-Prest trousers, badger shoes and a Lord Anthony shirt.

It was a particularly hot weekend and I vividly remember the photo shoot palaver in the hotel garden. Also, it was the first time that someone alien to our family was taking the photographs of us – our pictorial memories were usually recorded by either my mother or stepfather with a point-and-shoot plastic Kodak.

The photographer was obsessive about our positions and theatrically moved us about for that perfectly balanced family shot. As he was about to shoot, he tried to force a smile out of me but I was having none it. And my mother chipped in with her usual, "Don't smile in a daft way, Jason!"

By now I was fuming beyond control and a picture had not even been taken. Family occasions always bought out the best and worst out of us sartorially. On this afternoon, it was no different. My mother, grandmother (Mary Millen) and stepsister (Suzanne Murray) were decked out in floral, checked and patterned dresses. My mother even sported a post-Lady Di haircut.

My stepfather wore his dated ash-grey Roger Mooresque flarey suit, while my grandfather (George), known as "the Baron" in his day, and also known for being impeccably dressed in his working life as a station master, wore a nothing-fussy three-buttoned, short-lapelled navy suit. Sadly, he passed away a few months after this photograph was taken.

When I look at this photograph 30-odd years on, I don't see a true interpretation of my family in 1983. I just see the efforts the middle classes of the time made to look respectable, as portrayed in British sitcoms such as Butterflies and Keeping up Appearances.

I always felt my mother was a bit hard done by in this respect. She had worked her way up the ladder and coped with life's pitfalls along the way. Married at 19 and divorced by 26, she spent six years as a working single-parent before marrying Peter in 1974. She began as a nurse and retired as a matron, aged 51, due to arthritis. Earlier this year, she and Peter celebrated their 39th anniversary.

My mother was admitted to a nursing home six years ago and in January I visited her there on her 73rd birthday. My daughter read out her birthday card and helped her to open her present. We got her a cotton floral nightgown from Marks & Spencer. "There mum, we got you something sensible to wear," I said, with a big beam on my face.

She smiled and thanked us.

Jason Murray

Playlist: Fire brings back a special holiday

Fire by Arthur Brown

"I am the god of hell fire, and I bring you fire …"

 

I was one of a group of friends due to complete our degrees in the summer of 1972. We suspected that a bit of revision might be necessary before our finals, and that we would probably go our separate ways into the "real" world afterwards.

So, naturally, we decided one last pre-exam holiday together would be a good idea, and we rented a large cottage on the Gower peninsula for a week during the Easter break. Of course, we packed the essentials, Frisbees, footballs, guitars, and in that long ago vinyl age, our favourite LPs including some Dylan, Van Morrison, Neil Young, Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane and Velvet Underground.

The weather was kind to us and we were able to enjoy the beach and the local countryside. During one ramble we stumbled across a tall, imposing but rather confused figure – it turned out to be Arthur Brown, who seemed to be aiming for a gig in the Midlands (no satnavs back then) but somehow had ended up in South Wales. After some pleasant banter we managed to locate his transport and point him in the right direction.

Our fears about the break-up of the group were not realised. Weddings were attended; I was best man to one friend (twice); godparenting duties were mutually undertaken. However, my suggestions to incorporate Arthur Brown's most famous song on these occasions were always rebuffed.

 Years later I returned en famille to South Wales on a camping holiday and played musical selections from 1972 to our three boys explaining their significance, but with only partial success – Dylan, Morrison, Young, yes, but Brown et al, no way.

I don't know if Arthur made the gig, but I do know that despite still having the LPs from 40 years ago and never having bought Arthur's hit single, I can't hear Fire without breaking into a broad grin as I recall our wonderful Welsh break. My sons may not like it but they do understand.

John Petrie

We love to eat: Granny's purple loc-loc

Blackcurrants, boiled in water, sieved then mixed with sugar

Whipped cream to taste

Tin of custard

More sugar to taste

Boil and sieve the fruit to make a puree and add sugar to taste. Mix with the cream, more sugar and a tin of custard. Chill and serve.

Looking back at the last decade, we have spent the majority of our summer holidays with my in-laws in Cornwall. Even now, as soon as we arrive at Granny and Grandpas', Sadie and Tom, my two tweens become small again and a bit feral; paddling in the stream, playing with the dog and running barefoot through the fields.

My in-laws grow a huge amount of fruit and vegetables and have a fruit cage in their garden. In summer, my children love to pick the raspberries, blackcurrants and redcurrants with their granny. To use up the glut of blackcurrants, my mother-in-law makes this really delicious pudding.

When Sadie was very small, she thought it was yoghurt and called it, "loc-loc". One day she asked for this pudding, saying, "Can we have Granny's purple loc-loc?" My daughter is now old enough to help her granny to make a sponge cake to go with it and even the grownups like it. We ate it today overlooking an almost flooded garden where the stream was flowing over the top of the bridge, but it still tasted like summer.

Jood Milne Home