WE were born before television, penicillin, polio shots, frozen food, contact lenses, videos and the Pill. Before dishwashers, tumble driers, electric blankets, air conditioning, drip-dry clothes, double-glazing and before man walked on the moon.

We got married first and then lived together (how quaint) "fast food" was what we ate in Lent, a "Big Mac" was an oversized raincoat, and "crumpet" was a buttered cake we had for tea.

We existed before househusbands, sliced bread, computer dating, dual cars and when a meaningful relationship meant getting along with cousins and sheltered accommodation was where you waited for the bus.

We were before Day Care Centres, group homes and disposable nappies. We'd never heard of FM radio, tape decks, electronic typewriters, discos, artificial hearts, word processors, yoghurt, or young men wearing earrings.

For us "time sharing" meant togetherness, a chip was a piece of wood or a fried potato, hardware meant nuts and bolts and software wasn't a word.

Before 1940, "Made in Japan" meant junk. The term making out referred to how you did in your exams. A stud was something that fastened a collar to a shirt, and "going all the way" meant staying on the tram to the depot.

Cigarette smoking was fashionable. Grass was mown. Coke was kept in the coal house, a joint was a piece of meat you ate at Sunday dinner and pot was something that you cooked in.

Rock music was a fond mother's lullaby, Eldorado was an ice cream, a gay person was the life and soul of the party and nothing more, while aids just meant beauty treatment or help for someone.

There is consolation - indeed, bliss- in knowing that being a pensioner is ephemeral.

P J MAYNE,

Hanley Castle,

Worcester.