Grunwick, Dollis Hill, striker
Link to The Guardian |
"For the left, it was at best a hangover and at worst a wholesale
retreat; for the right it was intimation of an imminent apocalypse. It
gave us loon pants, Gary Glitter, the Tate bricks, Confessions of a Window Cleaner,
Sid Vicious, Mateus Rosé and the Yorkshire Ripper. It began with
rotting garbage piled up on the streets of London and ended the same
way. What's not to like about the 1970s?
"If, indeed, the 70s actually existed. The steady accretion of films,
novels, exhibitions and histories – now joined by Dominic Sandbrook's
compulsively readable chronicle of 1974-79 Britain and his accompanying BBC2 series on the decade as a whole – raises the question of whether the 70s had a coherent identity at all."
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