The 50s, where everybody got along and joyfully put up “No Blacks, No Dogs, No Irish” signs?
Having lived through both the fifties and the sixties, I can put my hand on my heart and say I never saw any such signs.
In the early seventies, where selfish became the way to be, our student house was rented from an Irish lady and the only white faces on our street were us six students.
The Afro-Caribean lads in the street played football with us, and against us, during the light evenings, and swapped food with us when we ate outside on the steps on hot evenings.
Those same lads would gleefully chuck rocks at us when we came home in the dark.
