Welcome to the Time Hole. Do you want to see the past? Do you want an insight into how things once were? Could you handle how much a time share in London was in 1982?
Regardless of how you answer these questions, it doesn’t matter. Let me present you with a recent find of mine. I “stumbled” across a copy of the Women’s Journal from 1982 (as you do) and inside was a bounty of adverts. And I do mean a bounty, because half the magazine was adverts. I don’t think I would have minded paying the 60p for it 36 years ago but my eyes would have screamed over from the sheer volume of glossy makeup, perfume, skincare, appliances and cooking apparel pornography thrust directly into my brain.
Luckily things are a little (little, I’m not referring to you, Little Miss Internet) bit more toned down for 2018. Let’s open the Time Hole for a bit. You like butters and spreads, right? So did people in 1982:
I was planning on scanning the whole thing but, as Emma quite rightly pointed out, every time you turned the page it creaked as though the glue was about to give up and run away to Greece to open a juice bar down on the beach.
I’ve never heard of this brand. I can only presume it doesn’t exist anymore, meaning that that the high demand referred to in the advertisement was actually baloney. Still, I’m sure 95% of the industry is baloney and the “butter mountain” was a real thing seen HERE in all its glory courtesy of our good friends at popular online wank-filtered encyclopaedia Wikipedia.
I wasn’t alive then but it sounds as though it was a good time for all.
24 comments on “Time Hole”
I think the phrase “let’s open the time hole for a bit” might be the most remarkably distressing phrase, given how completely innocent and inoffensive all those words are on their own.
There was still a butter mountain until 2017! How did nobody know about this? Where is it? Is there a toast mountain nearby to help munch through it?
This is the first I have heard of any of it, from a magazine from 36 years ago. It’s strange how you can come across general knowledge. Thank you, Time Hole.
I had heard of the butter mountain before but I’d never heard of a time hole. Where is the time hole? Is there a danger that more ancient types of margarine will come plopping through it unannounced?
The Time Hole is close to the Tyne Tunnel, secreted in a bush near where I live. So far no ancient margarine has crept through but I keep going back to check.
There is always the danger that margarine will plop through.
That’s the second innocent-sounding and yet deeply distressing sentence on this page.
It’s wham jam bop full of them as far as I’m concerned. And I wasn’t even trying, that’s the beauty of it.
Silent beavers patrol the Time Hole.
No, you see, that time you were trying, and it wasn’t distressing at all. In fact I found it almost inspiring. The silent dignity of those beavers, the stoicism they’ve shown their simple task down the years. Just incredible.
I made them silent, not through any malicious act I might add; I promised them a Wham bar each when they’ve finished their twelve year stretch.
Is one wham bar per 1.2 decades enough for a beaver?
They have small mouths. If I’m feeling generous, which rarely happens, I may toss another one their way.
That’s definitely enough to get them going. The possibility of sudden doubling up in the wham department. I’d tirelessly work for a decade if that was on offer.
Doubling up in the wham department?
Exactly. Like having both “Club Tropicana” and “Last Christmas” on cassette in the car.
At the same time. Piped right into my ears simultaneously. Double Wham time!
Yes. One on the left speaker and one on the right. A George Michael stereo treat.
Another George Michael stereo treat is when George Michael buys you a stereo. He once bought me an Alba CD and cassette midi system with AM/FM radio.
I feel as though you should recount this, possibly sat in an enchanted wood soundtracked to Enya, and many other stories of old in a new segment I am temporarily going to call ‘Marshall’s Moments’.
How did you know I used that Alba midi system exclusively for listening to Enya?
Not that I want to make every single comment about my eyes but my boffins have come up with a detachable pair of eyes which I have trained to sit over the road from your mattress shop flat effort, and they keep track of current events, most of which involve your Alba midi system.
I said he once bought me one. I don’t have it any more. Your floating eyes are trained on the wrong mattress shop flat effort, I think.
Look closer. Is it really me? It could be Kelly Jones from the Stereophonics, reliving the heyday of his career by listening to “Pick A Part That’s New” on cassette through his Alba midi system.
Hang on a moment, how many arms do you have? Have you been to Egypt recently?
Four arms. Two human arms, not my original ones though, a replacement pair from Egypt. And two hydraulic arms with lasers and mechanical claws on them.
Based on these observations, which aren’t really observations, they’re admissions, or possibly confessions, I think I’ve been watching the wrong mattress shop flat effort.
I think we’ve all learned something here, and that is that Kelly Jones now lives above a branch of Bensons for Beds.