Curly Wurly
Cadbury's lattice of caramel, advertised by Terry Scott dressed as a schoolboy, and the subject of a national shrinkage conspiracy.
The 1970s
Brown. Everything was brown. And somehow brilliant.
Power cuts, Chopper bikes, Spangles and a three-channel telly that closed down before midnight. The decade of the space hopper, the Green Cross Code and a fondue set nobody used twice.
How the decade went
Cadbury's lattice of caramel, advertised by Terry Scott dressed as a schoolboy, and the subject of a national shrinkage conspiracy.
The sweet everyone over forty brings up unprompted. Discontinued in 1984, briefly revived, and mourned ever since.
The BBC's colour test card: Carole Hersee playing noughts and crosses with a toy clown called Bubbles, broadcast for decades.
High-back seat, ape-hanger bars, gear lever on the crossbar and a front wheel that lifted if you breathed.
You sat on it, gripped the horns, and bounced down the road at roughly walking pace with enormous effort.
Hot water you had to plan an hour ahead, and a switch in the airing cupboard that started family arguments.
Britain's best-selling car, parked outside half the houses on every new estate in the country.
Butterscotch or strawberry powder that turned half a pint of milk into a mousse in about ninety seconds.
Argos opened in 1973, built directly on the Green Shield Stamps catalogue business, and invented a very British way to shop.
Thirteen episodes. That is all there ever were, and it is one of the best-loved British programmes ever made.
Text pages broadcast in the gaps of the TV signal: news, football scores, and page 302 for the weather.
Everybody wore them, including men, including your dad, and there are photographs.
Electricity restricted to three days a week for commercial users, and rolling blackouts at home through the winter.
Granada recreated a working men's club in a studio: singers, comics, a gavel and a bar.
Semicircles of breadcrumbed pancake filled with minced beef or cheese, and hot enough to cause actual injury.
Flares got wider every year until about 1976, then vanished almost overnight when punk arrived.
Peg a playing card against the spokes and your bike made a noise. That was the whole technology.
A wedding present that came out for one dinner party in 1976 and then lived at the back of a cupboard.
Sunday evening, Radio 1, a C90 in the deck, and a lifetime of recordings with the last two seconds of the DJ on them.
Phil Redmond's series about a London comprehensive, with bullying, truancy and a sausage on a fork in the title sequence.
Foil-wrapped packets of five, an album with 500 spaces, and a shiny badge you would trade three players for.
Dried noodles in a pot with a sachet of soy sauce, launched in Britain in 1979 and never off a student shelf since.
Carbonate your own tap water at home, then ruin it with concentrate that tasted almost but not quite like cola.
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