When you have a blog, you need things to write about, and such a requirement sometimes leads to writing things about yourself that you otherwise wouldn't reveal to other people. That's what I'm about to do now, but fear not, it's not something I could ever be blackmailed over. (Besides, I bought and burned the negatives of that little escapade with the hamster, so I should be safe - unless duplicates exist.)
No, I'm going to let you into a little secret about an odd compulsion I have. You see, when I re-acquire an item I had in childhood, I often feel compelled to 'reconnect' it to the area where I lived at the time. For example, when I revisited a former house of mine 19 years after flitting, I took along various replacements of items I'd originally owned when I lived there.
On that occasion I was accompanied by a Corgi Batmobile and Aston Martin DB5, the glow-in-the-dark head from the Aurora Frankenstein model kit, the owl from the Aurora Batman model kit, a Marx Dalek, Fantastic #1, Terrific #1, and a couple of books. They were ensconced in my original black leather schoolbag, purchased while living in that very house around 1970 or '71. What's more, it was on that very day (in 1991) that I recovered my Tonibell Miniball from the attic, where I'd inadvertently left it all those years before.
I did the same thing when I obtained a replacement for my Tomy wind-up Robot several years back. On that occasion, I didn't have access to my former abode, but I walked across a stretch of grass (with robot in pocket) where a pal of mine had found the front half of the same type of robot, and which is where I first became aware that the toy existed. (It wouldn't have been too long after that I bought the first of my two or three robots of the same make, but not all at the same time.)
More recently, I took a walk along to that same neighbourhood with my Kellogg's Thunderbirds 2 & 4 toys, the originals of which I owned in the '60s. Just having them in the same place where I played with their twins as a lad holds an odd significance for me and it's difficult to resist indulging myself. It's like revisiting the past in a way that's almost tangible, and there's quite a number of items I've taken with me on such sojourns over the years, something which I'll probably continue doing for some time to come.
More recently, I took a walk along to that same neighbourhood with my Kellogg's Thunderbirds 2 & 4 toys, the originals of which I owned in the '60s. Just having them in the same place where I played with their twins as a lad holds an odd significance for me and it's difficult to resist indulging myself. It's like revisiting the past in a way that's almost tangible, and there's quite a number of items I've taken with me on such sojourns over the years, something which I'll probably continue doing for some time to come.
The photo that kicks of this post was taken around 31 years ago, and most of the trees you see in the middle of the picture survive only as stumps these days. (As I saw on my recent visit.) On the right (from our point of view), there's a tree that grows into a sort of 'Y' shape, and where it separates, there was a little flat circular area which some mud had settled into. Back in the 60s, when playing with my Marx Twistable Batman, I stood him on that area and imprinted the soles and heels of his boots into the surface.
You're way ahead of me, aren't you? Yes, when I obtained a replacement for that Batman figure back around the early or mid-'90s, I took it along to my old neighbourhood and stood it in the very same spot - just to reconnect to that moment all those years before, and to 're-establish' the connection in my mind between Batman and that tree. So the tree is now gone, but the Batman figure in my collection once occupied the same spot as his predecessor, thereby perpetuating that moment from long-ago beyond its own time.
Anyway, I could give you example after example, but I doubt that you need any more convincing that I'm utterly bonkers. In a sweet and loveable, harmless way of course. Anyone else ever done this who isn't embarrassed to admit it? Then it's therapy session time - reveal all in our comments section. You'll feel better for it, honestly. Oops, gotta go - here comes the nurse with my medication.
10 comments:
No your not bonkers... Otherwise I would be in the padded cell next to you.. Your lucky your old homes are still in existence my one burnt to the ground years after we moved...
One day I'll win the Lottery and buy all my old homes, LH. Then I'll really indulge my strange compulsion. Better happen soon though, before I'm much older.
Yes, you are a bit bonkers but that's what makes the blog interesting :D
This coming Saturday (June 1st) will be exactly 10 years since I bade a sad farewell to the house I grew up in. My mother was becoming increasingly frail and had to go into a nursing home - she died just three months after entering the home. I had moved out of my childhood home in 1991 but I went back regularly to visit my parents - obviously when my mother went into a nursing home my connection to my childhood home was severed forever. Leaving for the final time on June 1st 2009 was a very emotional moment.
No, it's ME who's interesting, CJ - it's the BLOG that's bonkers.
Yes, saying goodbye to anything (or anyone) that you've known for most of your life is bound to be an emotional moment. Did you take any photos of the house perchance, just to remind you of it, and have you ever been back since?
No, I've never been back since and I didn't take any photos but I don't need any - my memories are very vivid.
I've always found that, despite however vivid my memories appear to be, they're made even more so with a little visual stimuli.
It's never occoured to me, this, but I think it's a good idea.
And I thunk it all up by myself, PD.
I totally get this business about your taking certain childhood artefacts back to where you first had them. I have a regular compulsion to detour past my childhood home (we moved out in '77!) and have often thought that taking along an old copy of Spider-Man Comics Weekly or Shiver and Shake would add a lot to the nostalgia. The sad truth is, the newsagent round the corner where I bought all this stuff is now a gentrified drinking hole and I just don't have the guts to go sit on my old steps and read a comic, as much as I'd like to! On the scale of weird behaviour here in Hackney it's pretty low-level, but I'd guess it would still be difficult to explain to the current tenants! So while it might be a bit eccentric, this aspect of your hobby isn't unique - I just think most wouldn't actually have the nerve to follow it through. What better place to re-read a 45 year old comic than it's proper surroundings? - Steve, Hackney
The way to do it, Steve, is to take a pal along with a camera, chap the door and explain to the current occupants that you used to live there, and ask if it's all right if your pal takes a photo of you on the steps holding a comic you had at the time - just to recapture the moment. You'd be surprised at how agreeable most people are to indulging other folk's nostalgia once it's explained to them. I'm glad that I got photos of me in one of my former back gardens, because a few years ago, it was drastically altered beyond recognition. At least it still survives in photos, which helps to reinforce my memories.
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