I WAS KIDNAPPED ON TREASURE ISLAND...

A million years ago, in 1966 or '67, my older brother and myself each received a Christmas present of a book from a literature-loving aunt and uncle.  My brother got KIDNAPPED (and I often wished he would be), and I was given TREASURE ISLAND, both written by R. L. STEVENSON.  I can't remember whether I read it at the time or not, but I did so ten years later and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Well, strictly speaking, that's not quite true.  You see, the one I read wasn't the original festive gift from years before (which had disappeared into limbo at some indeterminate stage), but a replacement I bought a decade later from a local bookshop on recognizing the cover and being instantly transported back in time to my childhood.

The cover reminded me of the back garden of the house I'd lived in when I received my earlier printing of this classic.  That was likely because of the garden having a wooden fence similar to that shown on the dustjacket, although ours was held together by wire.  To this day, whenever I look at that illustration, in my mind's eye I'm once again gazing through my old bedroom window at the garden below.

The back garden from my bedroom window

Anyway, to bore you with further tedious and unnecessary detail, unlike my original copy, the replacement carried no dustjacket.  The cover was just like an annual, applied straight onto the boards.  When I revisited the house nigh on twenty years after leaving it, one of several items I took with me (to 'reconnect' to my past, as it were) was the replacement edition of Treasure Island.  So now the book not only reminds me of my former home, it's actually been in it.

  

Two years ago, in the OXFAM shop in Glasgow's Byres Road, I managed to re-obtain a dustjacketed edition published in the same year as my original book.  It sits alongside my brother's copy of Kidnapped (which, happily, survived).  However, whether it's the '60s or '70s version, there's just something about that cover which sings to me of an earlier, more innocent time so many years ago.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS, MR. BLUNDEN?

Long ago and far away, in a time and place which now seem to have existed only in dreams, I read a book called The GHOSTS, by ANTONIA BARBER.  I was around eleven or twelve at the time, and I enjoyed it so much that, an hour or so later, after returning home from a trip to the shops with my family, I read it all over again.

Contrary to what the title suggests, the book isn't really about ghosts, it's about time travel.  Not in a science-fiction way though, but rather in a kind of mystical, magical fashion, which isn't explained in any detail.  A couple of years after reading it, a film version was released, called The AMAZING Mr. BLUNDEN, starring LAURENCE NAISMITH and LYNNE FREDERICK. (To say nothing of the usual complement of stalwarts from the British acting community, like JAMES VILLIERS, DIANA DORS and MADELINE SMITH, to name but a few.)

The book was set in what was then present-day 1969, with two children travelling 100 years back in time to save two other children who had perished in a house fire.  However, for some reason, LIONEL JEFFRIES, the screenwriter and director, set it in 1918 instead.  It's not a bad little movie, and is well-worth watching for the delightful performances of James Villiers and other members of the cast, though I was slightly disappointed to find that some dialogue in the book which had made me laugh out loud was absent.

I find it interesting that the film was in production around the time I was reading the novel on which it was based, although I didn't get to see it 'til about thirteen or fourteen years later.  (About half my life away at the time.)  However, I remember seeing the trailer on television back at the end of 1972 and instantly recognising, despite the different name, the source of this new cinematic production.  Also, the book had only been written about two years before filming began, so full marks to Lionel Jeffries for recognising its potential straight off the mark.

There's a passage in the book where one of the children, in the present day, is exploring the burnt-out country house that she experienced 100 years in the past (when it was still in its glory), and she recognises some of the items lying around the now deserted and dilapidated rooms.  Here is what it says:

Old clothes, old clocks, old toys, old books, which had once been swept along on the strong current of everyday life, now lay in corners like the tide-wrack along the beach, serving only to show where life had been.

All these things had been cherished once for their beauty or their usefulness, or just for the warm familiarity of their presence.  Now they were cast aside and forgotten.

As someone who has spent over half his life in re-acquiring once-cherished treasures that had fallen victim to time, there's something about the phrase "the warm familiarity of their presence" that really resonates with me.  Its an extremely comforting feeling being surrounded by the familiar, because then the past doesn't seem so very far away and, consequently, the illusion can be maintained for a little longer that the end of life's journey isn't quite so near as is actually the case.

So, if you haven't already done so, read the book and see the movie - and may all your 'ghosts' be familiar ones.

DICK MILLINGTON'S MIGHTY MOTH...

Cover art possibly by Bill Titcombe.  Cover characters copyright relevant and respective owners

The earliest comics character I can recall is MIGHTY MOTH, from the long-running TV COMIC (which lasted for nearly 34 years from 1950 to '84).  Artist DICK MILLINGTON was responsible for bringing the cloth-chomping mite to life, and it was because his distinctive style made such an impression on me when I first saw it in a 1962 or '63 TV Comic Holiday Special that I recognised it a year or two later on becoming aware of the weekly periodical.  (I hadn't actually remembered the name of the comic or the character - it was the look of the diminutive Lepidopteran and the style he was drawn in that rang a bell in the depths of memory's belfry.)

Anyway, having self-indulgently refreshed my recollections of bygone days, the cover at the top of this post is from the 1977 TV Comic Annual, purchased at the end of '76.  I thought I'd share one of the fondly-recalled comics celebrities of my boyhood with all you fellow fans in Bloggerland, so feast your eyes on the accompanying two-page Mighty Moth strip from that very annual.