Recently I took on the somewhat arduous task of clearing out my parent's loft, and having scaled the unstable aluminium ladders, I stood, torch in hand, in what can only be described as a mess. 

Underneath the blanket of dust and cobwebs, was a host of bits and pieces that hadn't seen daylight for at least two decades - Copper piping, fishing tackle, TV sets and boxes of books. 

When I spotted the cardboard box marked toys, my heart thumped. Sneezing profusely and balancing precariously on the wooden joists, almost putting my foot through the spare room ceiling on the way, I hurried across the floorless loft, found a safe-ish resting place and sat down.

On opening the container I found a collection of comics, model air-planes, a couple of Action Men and my most cherished childhood possession, my Meccano set. The sight set my mind time-warping backwards to the small, two-up, two-down, terrace house in south Belfast where I spent my childhood. Multi channel television, i-pods and mobile phones were non-existent. The Wooden Tops, Hectors House and Bill and Ben adorned the black and white television screen.

The tree lined avenues and side streets were filled with children's laughter. Girls skipped, played Hopscotch, pushed miniature prams and nursed dolls. A couple of boys kicked a ball against a nearby gable wall, while others tried to launch a small Balsa-wood aircraft.

Go-carts were my passion, and my quest to build the fastest one in the neighbourhood made me well known to all the local tradesmen. 

"Mister do you need that?" I'd ask timidly. Knowing the answer would be, "No son, you can have it."

I scrounged everything from wood to bolts to uncountable pounds of nails. Anything I couldn't scrounge, I usually found in a skip, much to my mother's distaste.

"You're as black as a boot. Go and get washed right this minute," she scolded me.

Oh how she howled, on discovering that I'd taken the wheels off the pram.

The local park had an almost vertical hill with a hardcore path.

"Pedestrians beware!" I'd yell, speeding down the hill in a hail of stones and dust.

In winter, with snow on the ground, mother's best tea tray made a good sledge. My elbows, knees and head knew all too well just how hardcore the path was. No helmets or knee pads in those days. Who said extreme sports are new?

The River Lagan's towpath provided the ideal place for bicycle rides. After rising early in the morning, I'd grab a few provisions, pack my puncture repair outfit and set off. Mist rose lazily from the oddly green coloured water and made it seem, to me, like the beginning of a great adventure.

I'd cycle for miles, stopping of occasionally to feed Swans and observe the few optimistic anglers who regularly wet a line. I loved watching the sunset and missed supper more than once.  

How I hated Sundays when I was washed and scrubbed and when, resembling a wrinkly red prune, I was dressed in a stiffly starched shirt and suit, then marched to the early morning service.

Following the service we had dinner. The television sat lifeless in a corner of the small living, come dining room. Dad read his paper and mum busied herself with sowing.

"Can I go out?" I'd ask.

"Don't be stupid. It's Sunday," the reply came swiftly - sharply.

So I'd settle down to entertain myself with jigsaws, Action Men and of course my treasured Meccano set. All the time dreaming of tomorrow, of playing rounders and flying kites.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" My mother's voice startled me back to reality.

Following tea accompanied by freshly baked scones, I made my way back into the loft and set about my task.

A few days later, I was sitting in my garden when a couple of children strolled by.  

One of them commented, "I'm bored. There's nothing to do round here."

I couldn't help but recall, how as a child growing up, I was seldom bored and was happier than a lot of kids nowadays appear to be. I didn't have the same constraints that children today have and which seem due, in part at least, to designer clothes, must have gadgets and the inevitable peer-pressure that having to own the latest trends brings. 

I'm happy I was a sixties child. Life was simpler. I had more freedom and I was able to enjoy a longer childhood.

I kept the Meccano set I rediscovered that day in my parent's loft. Who knows? Like flared trousers, it might just come back into fashion.

© John Rooney 2008