Do any children today keep a scrapbook? It seems very unlikely given almost every aspect of our lives has gone digital. So I was thrilled to rediscover my 50 year old childhood scrapbook, overflowing with yellowing newspaper cuttings. I wrote Scrapbook 1975 on the cover – I wonder whether it was a 1974 Christmas present? I seem to have written my Lakeside, Cardiff class, 4/1, there too.

I must have noticed that my scrapbook had 84 pages – one for every year of my beloved grandmother’s life at that point. (Nanny lived to within months of her 103rd birthday in 1994, as I blogged last year on the 130th anniversary of her birth.)

On the inside cover, I drew (badly) an impression of Concorde, the supersonic passenger plane that was to enter service the following year. These were the supersonic seventies, in the words of a 1970 Cadbury’s television advert… I never flew in Concorde, although I did walk through one in a Somerset museum in 1978. It wasn’t the same…

During the three day school half term, on Monday 10 February, Mum and Dad took me to Bristol for the day. If my scrapbook sketch is anything to go by, it was a foggy day. As a book lover, it was no surprise that my favourite part of the day was going to George’s bookshop, on Park Street. According to blogger Sue Purkiss, George’s dated back to 1847, so I was entering hallowed territory that foggy February day. At the time I was a big fan of Jackdaw children’s folders, a fascinating series of folders that illustrated historical topics with facsimiles of related documents. I received the Battle of Britain one Christmas, which included a wartime identity card and a 1940 Daily Mirror. I added my late grandfather’s real second world war identity card. I wouldn’t be surprised if I bought another Jackdaw at George’s. All I know for sure is that I took one of the bookshop’s bookmarks, as it’s in my scrapbook with the date on it. Sadly George’s is no more, like my old Cardiff spiritual home, Lear’s bookshop in Royal Arcade.

At the end of that school holiday, I found that three of my friends had also been to Bristol that day. That reflected how attractive the nearby English city was as a destination when Cardiff was enduring a period of decline after the collapse of the coal trade, which had made it the world’s biggest exporting port 75 years earlier. I enjoyed as a child walking with Dad through the modest Victorian streets behind Woolworth’s, which linked to The Hayes. Most of the two up, two down terraced houses had been converted into small shops. Within a few years, this run down area had been swept away to make way for the original St David’s shopping centre.

By 1977, my scrapbook had become a receptacle for newspaper cuttings about football, especially Cardiff City football club. I was fortunate to be able to watch City in style from the director’s box, as Dad had a season ticket there. After a few lean years, City were doing well, having won promotion to division two (the second tier of English football) in 1976, followed by a thrilling FA cup run in 1977.

The cuttings above were from the old Football Echo, reporting City’s amazing last minute win over Welsh rivals Wrexham in the fourth round. My scrapbook also recorded speculation that Brian Clough would return to Derby County. He didn’t, instead staying to manage Nottingham Forest to successive European Cup victories.

The last football memory from my scrapbook is from 1981. Just look at that division one table, the equivalent of today’s premier league. Swansea City are flying high in their first year in the top flight. Ipswich and Nottingham Forest are also in the top four. Earlier that month, Swansea had played Liverpool at Anfield just days after Liverpool’s legendary manager Bill Shankly died. Shanks had signed Swans manager John Toshack from Cardiff City 11 years earlier. On that emotional day, Toshack wore a Liverpool shirt before the kick off in tribute to Shankly. The gesture caused some controversy with supporters of both clubs, with Toshack seen by some as grabbing the limelight.

Why didn’t I save cuttings about Welsh rugby’s golden era? After all, we won two Five Nations grand slams during the time I was saving cuttings about a modestly performing football club. Perhaps because I only went to one rugby game during that era, Cardiff RFC’s dramatic narrow defeat to Argentina on the South American nation’s first tour of Wales in October 1976. (We went because my brother-in-law was born in Argentina.) But more likely, back in the mid 1970s we all thought that Welsh international rugby success was the natural order. How wrong we were…

After Margaret Thatcher became prime minister in May 1979, my scrapbook became dominated by cuttings about politics, and the tumultuous events of her early years in power. I was studying for my O levels (the predecessor of today’s GCSEs) and intrigued by the coincidence of Rhodesia briefly becoming a British colony again at the end of 1979. (At the time we were learning about British colonial policy of the 19th century, including the dubious exploits of Cecil Rhodes, the creator of that country.) Back in 1965, Rhodesia’s white leader Ian Smith had declared independence unilaterally to avoid Britain giving the country’s majority black citizens the vote in an independent nation. After 14 years of isolation and civil war, Rhodesia threw in the towel and the crown colony of Southern Rhodesia was briefly reborn to pave the way for free elections and legitimate independence. Churchill’s son in law Christopher Soames flew in as governor.

Almost 45 years on, it is amusing to read this Daily Mail column noting the irony of Margaret Thatcher installing a Marxist government in Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe. It should be noted that the Iron Lady was simply following the democratic wishes of the people of Rhodesia, although as she later abolished the Greater London Council to get rid of its elected left wing administration one should be too euphoric about Thatcher’s love of democracy. Mugabe, sadly, became a dictator and laid waste to the potential of that tragic country.

My scrapbook was full by the end of 1981, as I recorded Thatcher’s besieged government (as I blogged recently here), although I did keep selected historic newspaper stories for many years, notably during the 1982 Falklands war. They are in a box somewhere under the eaves of our loft.

I’m glad I started that scrapbook 50 years ago. I just wish I’d kept more mementos of my childhood. My father was quicker to keep his own memories than those of his children – throwing out a lot of my old books and much more without telling me. But I’m glad he kept his Cardiff City director’s box season ticket from the year I started my precious scrapbook.