I was born in 1953 so I belong to that group who are, officially, the grumpiest in history. JohnD, you're absolutely right; there were no 'good old days'. They just appeared good compared to the days before them. But I'll take the original post in the spirit in which it was intended and stick to the good stuff.
I've tried to find something good to say about the fifties but it's not easy. The only time that comes readily to mind was my first year in school where I seemed to spend most days playing with wooden bricks. My most vivid memory is the giant dominoes that were, no doubt, intended to teach us about numbers. The greedy kids dived in and grabbed as many as they could, leaving only three for me - so I won.
With hindsight there was a lot of good stuff that hadn't existed before but we kids never knew it. We had the NHS for a start and, although we still got measles and mumps, we were among the first who would never get polio or diphtheria or TB. The war was over and we won, though our knowledge of recent history was terrible. "In 1944, we won the war --" We also knew nothing of the very real threat of WW3. I can remember jokes about 'nuclear detergent'. What was that all about?
And then there were the sixties. Now it's often said that if you can remember the sixties you weren't really there - so maybe I wasn't. It was during this decade that Dandy and Beano gave way to Wham, Smash, Pow, Fantastic and Terrific.
And then they were gone. That was a sad day indeed.
Radio 270 was a breath of fresh air - until that also died. I scoured the medium wave looking for an alternative but found only Luxembourg. The reception was terrible but we loved it.
There were a few things back then that today's kids just don't seem to do anymore: Riding bikes without a helmet. Charging down hills on a plank on old pram wheels. (We called them bogeys but I don't know if that was universal.) Swinging from ropes attached to trees or, even better, bridges.
My one regret is that I never crawled the hundred yards through a concrete tunnel where a stream went under the park. I could see the small circle of light at the other end but was scared that somebody might block it while I was in there.
Too late now; the council put grills on the end - and I wouldn't fit anyway.
Things perked up considerably in the seventies. In fact most of my happiest memories begin with the summer of 69 - the end of what is now called year eleven. No more latin, or french, or history; not in the sixth form. School suddenly got a whole lot better - and university was better still. The next ten years were a merry-go-round of discovering new things: beer, sex, discos, magic mushrooms, real ale, real sex. What had started in the sixties came to fruition in the mid seventies. The Age of Aquarius had arrived!
And then -- and then -- just when the future looked rosier than a psilocybe sunset -- THATCHER HAPPENED!
And the rest is history.
Nostalgia just ain't what it used to be.