WHEN YOU GET TO A BIT THAT MAKES SENSE, GIVE ME A SHOUT...

Why this illustration?  See footnote

Having lived in 7 houses in my life by the time I was 24,

and 5 of them while I was still a kid, I've often felt that I've

had more than one childhood.  (Due to the fact I associate a

separate section of my childhood to each domicile.)  This has

prompted me to wonder on occasion if my childhood seems

more varied and interesting than that of someone who has

lived in the same abode for all of their childhood years.

However, with the death of ROGER MOORE, I'm now

beginning to get a sense of what it must be like to have lived

in the same dwelling for any significant length of time.  That's

because I was in my current home when Rog was a mere 45

years young and had just taken over the role of BOND, and

now he's departed this mortal vale while I yet inhabit the

same domicile I did as a callow 13 year old youth.

Hell's bells, it's gone by in a flash!  Next Wednesday will

be 45 years to the very day since my family first moved to

this address, but it doesn't seem possible to have been quite
that long.  And yet, when I think back to the comics and toys
I had as a child, it feels as if I had them for lengthy periods of
years and years - and all at the same time.  (Regular readers

will be used to my meandering streams of thought by now,
but if you're a 'newbie', bear with me as I ramble.)

As you'll know from your own experience though, many

of the goodies we had as kids weren't concurrent with each

other and never saw the inside of the same toy-box or cup-

board.  Some we may only have owned for weeks or months,

others for a few years at most, but in memory, it seems as if

they all cohabited for equal duration.  Your TEDDY BEAR

may never have made the acquaintance of your ACTION

MAN, but we recall them as being contemporaries.

Many of the replacements I've acquired over the last 35

years of toys, comics, or books of my youth, I've now had

for many of years longer than I ever possessed the originals.

One example is the first ish of the revamped SMASH! from

1969.  I had it for 4 days at the most before selling it to class-

mate BILLY MONTGOMERY.  I'd intended to buy another

copy before #2 hit the shops, but it was sold out, and over 15

and a half years elapsed before I managed to replace it.  That

was 33 years ago, but, incredibly, it doesn't feel like I've had

the replacement copy any longer than I had the original.

Which brings me on to this.  When I was a kid and got

a new toy, there seemed no reason why I wouldn't have it

forever.  Children sort of have the impression that they're

immortal and that nothing is ever going to change.  Not that

they believe so on a conscious level, but the opposite scenario

is an absent concept that never really occurs to them.  Or, if

it does, it seems like such a far-distant prospect that it's not

one to be concerned with until many years in the future - a

future that is aeons away.  That disappears as we age, and

there comes a time when we become only all too painfully

aware of our limited time on this spinning sphere.

I'm at the stage now where if I buy something today that
I'll have for 20 or 30 years, my enjoyment is palled by the
knowledge that, even though that span dwarfs any length of
time I owned many of my childhood items, it'll still seem like
only a mere fraction compared to the illusory lengthy periods
of yesteryear.  The fact that I'm now aware (unlike my teen-
age self) that the clock is counting down, casts a shadow over
my pleasure in acquiring a new (or replacement) object, be-
cause the illusion of 'forever' is no longer part and parcel
of the package.  (Reality can be difficult to deal with.)

Anyway, once more I've indulged in off-the-wall streams
of thought which may seem only tenuously connected, but
hopefully you can get something worth contemplating out of
it all.  Let me know if you do, eh?  It might help me to  better
convey what I'm trying to say.  I often feel like I start out on a
definite path, but then wander off into the woods on the way
and never quite get back on track and complete the journey.
Still, better to travel hopefully than to arrive, as some wise
wag once said.  (Robert Louis Stevenson I think.)

******

Footnote:  The DALEK record is an example of what
I'm talking about. I derive such enormous pleasure from
simply owning this magnificent item, but it's a bitter-sweet
experience because I'm all too aware that, even if I have it
for the rest of my (hopefully long) life, it's still going to be
all too-brief a time.  Do any of you relate to that at all?

Posted in: Cartoons