Dear Dave

  Children of the Teenies

Dear Dave,

It sounds like your overwhelming memories of the Noughties are very similar to mine - nappies, banana porridge and Teletubbies. You at least recall a little more about the early years of the decade but I'm struggling. With my eldest born in May 2000 and my youngest turning five in September 2009, the whole thing is rather a blur. It's like I fell asleep with Clinton as President and woke up with Obama. Did I miss much? (I'm sorry? Pardon? Who!?) What happened to that fresh-faced Tony Blair chap, by the way? How's Britney? Are Tom and Nicole still together?

Ah... OK.

Ho well, never mind, I think I'll go console myself by cashing in on the fortune my dot-com shares must be worth by now and spending it on simple pleasures. Fancy some Pic'n'Mix from Woolworths...?

Oh, you're kidding me.

I guess maybe it's a good thing I've had a fairly blinkered existence for the last ten years. To be honest, I hadn't actually been paying much attention before that anyway - my knowledge of popular culture has been shrinking since 1992. Everyone knows all the best music was made in 1987 and it's been a downhill slide from there. The family television of today is a mere shadow of The A-Team, The Generation Game, Knight Rider, The Price is Right, Only Fools and Horses and, er... Dr Who. No one looks normal without too much make-up, shoulder pads and big hair.

I think I'm going to have to admit to being a child of the Eighties. I passed a guy in the street a few months ago and couldn't help noticing the slogan on his t-shirt. It said very simply, 'I STILL hate Thatcher'. It made me grin rather too much.

For me, the Nineties were taken up by studies and employment. The Noughties were swallowed whole by kids. It's the Eighties that really influenced my tastes and opinions. I am the frightening love-child of Michael Douglas, Kathleen Turner, J.R. Ewing, Belinda Carlisle, Mr T, Wham! and The Terminator.

Shiver.

I'm going to have to start taking a bit more notice again from now on, though. My kids will be children of the Teenies. If I want to stay in touch with their lives, I'm going to need to have some clue about music and celebrities and social networking sites. I might even have to learn how to use my mobile phone properly.

My children will have unfamiliar tastes and radical opinions which they will try and foist on me. They'll get grumpy and smelly if I dismiss them out of hand through complete ignorance of what they're talking about. Admittedly, they'll probably get smelly and at least mildly grumpy anyway, but I need to sound like I know what I'm talking about as I rubbish everything they hold dear. If I just try and run with a couple of names picked up from listening to a debate on Radio 4, it will only lead to embarrassment for everyone. I'm actually going to have to put some effort in, do some research and watch supposedly famous people attempt to dance on ice.

There will be no escaping whatever this decade brings.

I suppose it might not be too bad. You never know, maybe Kylie Minogue will finally have a come back... (I'm sorry, what's that? Not following. You can't get what dress out of your head? Oh...)

Yours in a woman's world,

Ed.

Labels: children, tweens

 
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