I grew up in the 70's.
Now it wasn't all Life on Mars: spacehoppers, wombles, Slade on the radio and Cortinas the colour of Spangles.
It was a time of Britain's slide into economic obscurity as Keynsian governments bought votes by propping up dead industries. It was the Thatcher revolution which rescued us from this.
Thirty years on the world has changed.
Almost everyone bought into the idea of economic freedom. The nationalised industries are gone but we now face a sclerotic state as inefficient as 1978 - with votes being bought in Labour seats by nationalising a bank.
Naturally one wonders if it had been the bank of Guildford, if Labour would have gambled the cost of twenty aircraft carriers?
But this isn't why I felt moved today. After reading an article on the true winners of the Vietnam war 35 years on in the dear Speccie, I hear that Fidel has retired.
Naturally he has passed the power on unelected (sounds achingly familiar) to his brother.
But my mind cast back over walls falling and the missile threat vanishing to a poster my dad had.
It was called 'Our Gang'.
The photograph was of a football team posing with a ball.
The World XI.
The faces?
Mao
Ho Chi Minh
Papa Doc
Kim (Elder, of course)
Kruschev
Castro
Honecker
Hitler
Stalin
Mussolini
Idi Amin
Nice to see that last of them on their way, eh?
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