I'm in my fifties and when I describe my 1960s childhood to my 21 year old son he describes it as "Dickensian".
He cannot grasp the concept of a kid's bedroom being only for sleep - no TV, no music. A room with a bed, a wardrobe and a chest of drawers. And in winter, ice on the inside of the windows (no double glazing or central heating back then - at least not among my social circle!) Forget "duvets" - even "Continental Quilts" hadn't arrived yet, it was layers of sheets then itchy blankets with an embroidered counterpane on top.
The telly was in the living room, 21 inch screen, black & white, push button. Three channels (and BBC2 was considered "new").
Playing football on the back street (very little traffic about) nobody "walked" their dogs, you just let them out for the day. Soot falls - wow, they were fun! and watching the chimney sweep's brush poke out of the chimney pot. Chasing the rag & bone man's cart down the road. "The Beano" cost tuppence in proper money, playing tiggy, British Bulldog, Red Rover and Stringy. Collecting conkers and tadpoles. Black jacks and liquorice turned your tongue black and at school we saved money for the starving children in Biafra.
Singing Beatles songs in the playground. Building dens. Feeling grown up because you owned a pen knife and a Timex watch. Putting a tanner into those wall mounted chocolate vending machines in the high street and turning the knob to obtain your "Bar Six" in its orange wrapper. Finding a thruppeny bit on the pavement on your way back from the barber's - yippee!! The smell of dad's brylcreem and watching your mother sticking green shield stamps onto a coupon card. Crapping yourself at "Doctor Who" (he had a Beatle haircut but he was so old!!!)
Then as you got a bit older the excitement of the first man on the moon and the approaching 1970s with futuristic formica and starting to take notice of girls in their Biba boots and hotpants. But The Beatles broke up, the lights went out, they changed our money to "decimal" and it seemed to be all strikes, hijackings, terrorist bombs, power cuts, a three day week and The Osmonds.....
The dream was over