Reflections on a Simpler Time; Button moon anyone?

Savouring simple daily pleasures

It’s funny how memories sneak up on you. Earlier this week, on a particularly hectic morning, I caught myself humming the theme tune to a long-forgotten children’s show from the early 1980s — Button Moon.

Do you remember it? A wonderfully simple animation from the UK about a family of spoons who lived on Junk Planet and travelled the galaxy in a baked bean tin rocket ship. Even now, I can almost hear the slow, soothing narration and that gentle melody. Somehow, that tiny spark of memory sent me tumbling down a rabbit warren of nostalgia — back to a simpler, slower time.

There were only three television channels then, and they signed off at 11 p.m. sharp. Cars had radios, not touchscreens. At home, we had one phone — attached to the wall by a spiral cord — and if someone else was using it, you waited your turn. There were no mobile phones, no DVDs or CDs, no microwaves or tumble dryers. My mother’s pride and joy was her “twin tub” washing machine, where you had to lift the laundry from one side to another for the spin cycle.

And yet, somehow, life didn’t feel lacking.

We played outside until dusk with the neighbours, rode bikes, drew pictures, and spent hours creating worlds for our dolls. Our imaginations filled in the gaps that technology now occupies. Shops closed at noon on Saturdays and didn’t reopen until Monday. Sundays meant roast lunch and time with family. The rhythm of life followed the seasons — in our clothes, our food, even our routines.

There’s so much convenience in life today — and I’m certainly not giving up my washing machine or my robot vacuum — but I do sometimes wonder what we’ve lost in the process. My teenage daughters, for example, rarely has both ears free of her white earbuds. Anything they want to know is at their fingertips, but the joy of asking a friend, a neighbour, or an elderly relative — that small act of connection — feels like a fading art.

And yet, not all is lost. On my evening walks, there’s a stretch of quiet road where local kids still race their bikes and invent games, just as we once did. It always warms my heart to see them out there, making their own adventures under the fading light.

This past long weekend, I barely ventured beyond the driveway. I pottered in the garden, sat in the sun on the deck, had lunch outdoors, and simply was. I’m such a homebody at heart. Perhaps that’s what I’m craving — a return to that gentle simplicity, to being more present and less drawn into the noise of the world.

It’s almost impossible to escape it all — the constant hum of the news, the ping of notifications — but maybe we can carve out small moments of stillness. This week, I’m setting myself a quiet little challenge: fewer screens, more presence. I’ll read my paperback instead of scrolling, walk to work, bake something just because, go to my ballet class, take long baths, and climb into bed as early as the day allows.

Maybe that’s the modern version of a trip to Button Moon — a brief escape from the busyness, a small journey back to wonder, simplicity, and peace.