Summer of '76

Davina made her usual small talk as I sat in the salon chair.

“So, have you booked your holiday yet?” she asked, picking up her laser to slice my locks into the latest style.

“No, not yet. A friend and I are thinking of going on one of those new time packages. Have you been on one yet?”

“No, we did The Moon last year though. It was okay I suppose, but we thought it too much like Centre Parcs. We weren’t impressed to be honest and the sightseeing trip was definitely a waste of money. I would think long and hard about which era you decide on, Tia. A friend of ours went back to Ancient Rome recently and only ended up in the arena with the gladiators! Almost got himself killed. If it hadn’t have been for the time reps stepping in I think he’d have been a goner. He said he enjoyed it on the whole though, especially the orgies. Typical man eh?” she said, laughing.

“I really fancy the seventies myself. My old gran used to tell me stories about the time when she was a girl, it sounds fantastic. My friend Astrid fancies the seventies too. She loves all that antique punk and old disco music.

“Sounds fabulous!” said Davina, switching on the highlighting lamps.

“Which shade are you going for today?”

“Oh, I think fancy platinum streaks with honey lowlights this time.”

“Right you are,” she answered, selecting the program. “It’ll take a few minutes. Can I get you a coffee capsule or something?”

“No thanks, I’ll just flick through the mags while I’m waiting.” I pressed the button on the side of the mirror and watched the pages load.

Just then, my sensor bleeped an incoming call.

“Hey Astrid! I was just thinking of calling to see if you're free for lunch.”

“Hi Tia! I see you're still at the hair salon; I’m just leaving the office now. Shall I meet you at Rickmen’s in say fifteen minutes?”

“Perfect! Order the vita risotto for me would you. Then I want to go to the travel agents. Let’s book that holiday we’ve been promising ourselves, shall we?”

“Sounds good to me! See you later.”

I watched as Davina put the finishing touches to my hair.

“You like?” she asked.

“I love!” I replied, hugging her, “I feel like a new woman.”

“That’s just six grand then please.”

“See you next month! I might want an afro ready for my hols by then,” I said, chuckling as I stepped into the jaunting transporter that would take me to Rickmen’s

###

“Right, that’s all booked for you then, ladies,” the travel agent said. “That’s one week in nineteen seventy-six. A very wise choice if I may say so; that was a really hot summer, so the weather is guaranteed. That’s just over two million pounds each then.” Seeing the shocked look on our faces he added, “But don’t forget you have all those trips included in the price. Tickets to see Queen live at Wembley, film premier tickets for Rocky, and you have free admission to Stringfellow’s nightclub throughout the whole of your stay. On top of that, you’ll be staying at London’s Ritz Hotel too. Oh, and of course you won’t need to take much pocket money with you. because everything cost peanuts back then. I think you’ll agree, you have a very good deal.”

Astrid and I looked at each other and smiled. “He’s right you know,” I said. “We’re going to have the holiday of a lifetime. We’ll be able to live like kazillionaires while we’re there too. Whatever we want, we’ll be able to afford.”

“Oh, talking of money, we offer a very good exchange rate on the post decimal pound at our bureau de change over there,” he said, pointing across the store. “It’s going to feel strange for you carrying cash around at first, but you’ll get used to it I’m sure.” He smiled and extended his hand. “Thank you choosing Virgin Timeways."

# # #

It was the day before our trip. We hadn’t bothered to pack much as we planned to buy everything we needed when we arrived; we didn’t want to look too out of place. Astrid had done a lot of historical research. “When in Rome…” she said, as she talked animatedly about the fashions, the hair styles, the architecture, even the food would be different, she told me. “This will be a real culture shock for us you know, Tia. It’ll be like visiting another world entirely.”

“Hey, just wait until you see these,” I said, plonking a dusty old box on the floor of my lounge. I lifted out a huge album. Photos of my gran and other family members smiled back at us, all of whom were now sadly gone.

“Gosh! I’ve never seen a real photo before, they're so quaint!”

“These are of my gran when she was seventeen, taken in the seventies,” I said, passing her the album. We studied the pictures carefully.

“It all looks so glamorous doesn’t it. I really can’t wait, Tia! We won’t sleep a wink tonight, I bet.”

# # #

We arrived at the time terminal an hour before check-in. I felt nervous about entering the time shuttle. There had been very few accidents with time travel so far, but it didn’t stop me worrying.

Astrid smiled, gazing up at the departure boards. “1976…hmm, no delays.”

We got chatting to some old ladies who had already been on several trips.

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about, dears. It’s all over in seconds. You feel a little dizzy and that’s about all there is to it. This will be our fourth time. We like all the royal stuff you know. So far we’ve been to the Coronation of King William, Queen Elizabeth’s silver jubilee and Charles’ and Diana’s wedding. Mind you, I almost had to gag Lilly here when it got to the part about ‘Speak now or forever hold your peace.’

“Yes, I wanted to warn the poor lamb,” chipped in Lilly, “but all the same it was a lovely do wasn’t it, Stella.”

“Yes, lovely. This time we thought we’d try something new. We’re going to The Roaring Twenties. We’ve been learning The Charleston, so we’re ready to knock em dead.”

“Well, have a lovely time.” we replied.

“Yes, you too, dears.”

“I think I just heard them announce that ’76 is boarding, Tia.”

We smiled our goodbyes and walked towards the shuttle. It didn’t look at all as scary as I’d imagined. It was designed around a seventies theme, with lots of bright colours and flowers painted on everything. It reminded me of one of those old hippy camper vans I’d seen on the history webs. The crew were wearing seventies style uniforms with huge flared trousers and the girls wore their hair the same way as we’d seen in an old show Astrid had found when doing her research. It was called Charlie’s Angels. Some of the boys had afros while some had ridiculous looking moustaches with huge side burns. We couldn’t help but laugh as they showed us to our seats.

All at once there was a huge roar. The lights began to flash and suddenly, ‘You Sexy Thing’ by Hot Chocolate blared out of the address system. We all laughed, which relieved the tension slightly. Then I felt a strange sensation of spinning. The next thing I remembered was hearing The Real Thing playing #…You to me are everything, the sweetest song that I can sing, oh baby….#

“Oh I love this music!” said Astrid excitedly. “Can’t wait to get to Stringfellow’s tonight for a boogie on down.”

“You sound like a native already!” I said, laughing. “I think we’ve arrived,” I added, looking out of the porthole. People dressed in weird and wonderful get ups were milling around outside.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for travelling with Virgin Timeways. May we take this opportunity to wish you all a very safe and happy holiday.”

A big cheer went up from all the passengers as we rose to leave the shuttle and venture out into retro land.

“It’s incredible!” I said, gazing down Oxford Street, “Here we are in central London and there’s hardly any people! Well, not like we’re used to. And look, we have room to walk without being carried along with the throngs.” I put my arms out wide and spun around in the middle of the pavement. People began to stare. “We must look strange,” I said, seeing the rows of boutiques. “Come on Astrid, time to shop till we drop!”

Having browsed the shops for hours we decided to have a drink and walked into an old-fashioned pub.

“Two wines capsules please.”

“Sorry lovelies, but we don’t serve wine; not much call for it you see. You’ll have to pay the old frogs a visit if you want posh wine.”

“Oh, I see,” I said. “What do people drink nowadays then?”

“Well, fine ladies such as yourselves would normally go for a Babycham or a Cherry B, unless you fancy a short or something,” the barmen replied.

“Ooh Babycham! That sounds interesting; it’s not made from real babies is it?” Astrid looked horrified.

“Two Babychams coming right up! No luv, no babies, but it’s the nearest thing to wine we got. You want some lunch? The menu is right up there on the blackboard, we got a bistro through thataway,” he said, pointing to some doors.

We studied the menu intently.

“Everything seems to come in a basket,” I said, “What’s scampi do you think?”

“Oh, I know this. It’s little fish coated in orange breadcrumbs, shall we give it a try?” Astrid replied.

“Okay, why not. I see everything’s served with chips too; shall we try those as well? I know what they are, my gran used to run a fish and chip shop before I was born and made them for me sometimes.”

“Two Scampi in the Basket coming right up,” the waiter said, and disappeared into the kitchen.

###

We arrived at The Ritz exhausted, arms full of bags. We’d bought some amazing things. Seemed this fabric called Cheesecloth was very popular and something called Indian Cotton too. We had some lovely flowing skirts with all kinds of tie die patterns in the most stunning array of colours. We had hot pants and loads of flares too. Now we really looked like the locals, and all for the cost of a cappuccino capsule in our time.

Our room was amazing, although it didn’t reflect the era; the décor was more what we considered to be Art Deco. I’d seen that style in a museum once.

“Oh my god! Look at the size the phone sensor!” I gasped, “I never knew they were ever that big.”

We fell about laughing at how huge the ‘high tech’ equipment was.

“Only three channels on the visual receptor, no remote or voice sensor and no programs until late afternoon! How do they cope? Oh well, we aren’t going to be watching much are we.” I said, placing the Radio Times back on the table.


“Wait till you see this!” Astrid spluttered, lifting the lid of a huge wooden box. “This is what you call a record player. I looked these up when I was researching. And these are records,” she said, holding up some strange looking black discs. “Here listen to this!” she said, putting it on. “It says on the label ‘December sixty-three by The Four Seasons.’ Never heard of them but I like it!”

We played more records while we changed into our floaty cheesecloth numbers before heading off to become dancing queens at Stringfellows.

Everyone was dressed up to the nines as we made our way across town. A small group of teenaged girls walked towards us. They were dressed in white shirts and cropped white jeans trimmed with tartan and waved matching tartan scarves.

“Bay City Roller fans,” Astrid whispered as they passed. “Don’t they look incredible.”

“Yes, incredibly stupid,” I whispered back.

Just then, one of them collapsed onto the pavement. The friends clamoured around the tartan clad girl who appeared to have fainted.

“Debbie! Debbie! Are you okay?” one of the girls bent over her was saying.

“I don’t think she’s breathing,” another one said.

Everyone began to panic and we went over to see if we could help.

“Oh my god!” I said, looking down at the girl lying twisted, her vacant eyes staring back at me. “It’s my gran! It is isn't it Astrid. It has to be, she looks just like the girl in my photos.”

“Yes, she looks exactly like the pictures you showed me, it is her I’m sure.”

“Is this Debbie Chapman?” I asked.

“Yeah, do you know her?” asked one of the group.

“Yes,” I replied in astonishment, “she’s...she's my gran.”

Everyone looked at me as if I were insane. Then I remembered that my gran used to be diabetic before she had her pancreas transplant in 2020.

“I know what to do,” I shouted above the panic stricken crowd. “She needs sugar, does anyone have anything?”

One of the girls handed me a piece of chocolate, which I placed under gran’s tongue.

“We need to get her to a hospital quickly,” I said.

“An ambulance is on its way, miss, I just radioed for one.”

Looking up to where the voice came from, I saw a policeman had stopped to help.

“Oh thank goodness!” I said. “She’s my gran and she’s diabetic.”

“Have you been drinking, miss?”

“No, I swear!”

“She’s confused and upset about her friend,” Astrid said, stepping in, “but I can assure you that Debbie is definitely diabetic and needs a doctor.”

We heard the sirens before we saw the ambulance arrive.

# # #

“Without your presence of mind she could have slipped into a deep coma and died. You saved Debbie’s life,” the doctor congratulated.

“Can I see her?” I asked.

“Yes, she very tired, but I’m sure Debbie will want to thank you.”

I looked down into my dear gran’s face. She looked so young but her eyes were just the same as I remembered.

“I miss you so much,” I whispered, as I bent to kiss her forehead, my tears falling onto her cheek.

“Do I know you?” the girl asked.

“Sort of,” I told her, “I helped get you to the hospital. My name is Tia.”

“Oh, you gave me chocolate and saved my life. Thank you so much! Tia, I like that name, it’s unusual. I shall remember it always.”

I wanted to hug her and tell her everything, but she wouldn’t have understood or believed it. So I simply kissed her said “bye,” consoling myself with the thought that I could always travel back to see her again. Cheered by this, I turned to Astrid. “Haven’t we got a nightclub to get to?”

The rest of the week passed in a haze of parties, dancing, chips and laughter. Seeing Freddie Mercury at Wembley was amazing! When they played Bohemian Rhapsody the atmosphere was neutronic. Astrid and I still can’t believe that nobody could tell he was gay! I mean, come on! It was so obvious! But people of the seventies seemed oblivious to anything like that. I don’t think it crossed their minds for a minute.

We’ve done more time trips since, but 1976 will always hold a special place in my heart. Just one week, but a lifetime of memories.