A WOLFE IN PAST'S CLOTHING...?

"You can't go home again" said THOMAS WOLFE - and in one sense he was correct, but in another sense, he wasn't.  I've done it, you see.  Allow me to explain.

The house in which I now reside, I've lived in before.  My family moved here in 1972 and we were here for 11 years until we relocated to another house in a different area in 1983.  Four years later, we moved back - I'll spare you all the boring details as to why.  At first, it was as if we'd never moved, but - ah, "but" - I'll get to the "but" shortly.

Being able to "go home again" depends on several diverse sets of circumstances; what age you are at the time, how long you've been away, to what extent (if any) things have changed since you left and (if not) whether they'll stay the same for the foreseeable future, etc.

The memories and associations of all my previous abodes are anchored in specific periods of time, fixed and immutable, from which they can never be sundered.  For instance, when I remember one particular house, it's resolutely set within the years 1965 to '72, or when I call to mind another, it's locked between the period of 1983 and '87.

Sometimes, when strolling through one former neighbourhood, I think to myself how nice it would be to stay in my old house again.  On one side are the same neighbours as when we moved into the area in the mid-1960s - still there after all these years.  That sense of continuity is an important aspect in considering whether it's possible (or even desirable) to recapture the feeling and flavour of bygone days by such means.

When we're young, our life seems to unfold before us like an unravelling ball of string; however, when looking back in later years, we don't see the string as the continuous, uninterrupted strand it seemed to be at the time, but as separate, severed segments, each in its own little compartment of the mind.  Or perhaps a chain would be a far more accurate comparison, with links missing at various intervals which would otherwise connect every individual recollection (or set of them) with the ones before and after, rather than leaving them in apparent isolation to one another.  (I'm overstating the case, perhaps, but I'm sure you get the idea.)

Consider the following hypothetical scenario: You're 8 or 9 years old and move to another house in another area.  Six months later, your parents realise it was a mistake.  The house is a dump, the area is a slum, the school is a disgrace and the neighbours are cold and unfriendly.  By a fortuitous stroke of good fortune, you're able to return to your previous house in your old neighbourhood - and do.  All of your former friends and neighbours are still there, living their lives as before. Under those happy conditions, you would merely be resuming your old life after a brief hiccup in continuity.  Truly, you would have gone home again.

If, on the other hand, you didn't return until many years later, most of the factors which made living there so memorable for you would likely no longer exist, chief amongst them being your youth and all its attendant properties.  (A sense of wonder, optimism, enthusiasm, and a whole host of other qualities.)

The surrounding neighbourhood would no longer be your very own adventure playground, merely the street where you live.  The friends with whom you played in bygone days would by now have grown up and moved on, once-familiar local faces flitted or expired.  True, you'd have your memories of happy times past, but these would still be yours wherever you happened to live.  No doubt you'd derive some satisfaction from once again inhabiting your childhood home, but unfortunately that might not be enough of a comfort when the realisation finally dawns of all the inevitable, irreversible changes that have occurred in your absence.

(I dare say it's the same even if you've lived in only one place all your life.  Changing circumstances over the years can conspire to make the experience of living in a long-term home entirely different to what you once knew.  If new people move in next door and are an absolute nightmare to live beside, then you may suddenly find yourself consumed with a desire to quit the place of your unforeseen and seemingly never-ending torment - despite it being the only house you've ever known and in which you were previously blissfully content.)

Moving house when young is a bit like breaking up with a wife or girlfriend when older.  You may eventually meet someone else and just get on with things, but should that lost love resurface in your life and want you back, you recall only the good times you had and may be tempted to pick up where you left off.  It's happened - I've read of people leaving their partners for former lovers or people they once knew (with whom they've become re-acquainted through Friends Reunited), only to discover that, once the first flush of reconnecting with a cherished part of their past has passed, they really have nothing else in common.

It can be the same with houses - or anything, in fact.  Human nature being what it is, we always miss what we don't have.  When we get it, we then start to miss whatever we gave up to acquire it. (Or something else in which we imagine our happiness resides.)

Case in point: In 1987, when the opportunity arose of returning to the house we had left over four years before, I did so without even a backward glance as I'd never wanted to move from it to begin with.  25 years later however, I increasingly find myself, unbidden, recalling happy times associated with the place we so heartlessly abandoned in favour of our once previous and now current abode.  Don't misunderstand me - I'm still glad to be back here, but, as I say, I also now think fondly of the house we left behind.  (As I do the other former homes my family have inhabited down through the decades.)

The fact may be, however, that it's not actually childhood houses (and other places) which we miss per se, but childhood itself - that time of awe and enchantment and epic sense of eternity that seemed to rest within our grasp.  The houses are merely symbols of those times and experiences - the places with which we associate our feelings of wonder and joy, plus long sunny summers and frosty snow-bound winters in a magical kingdom where time held no sway and we thought we had forever.

When we visit the grave of someone deceased, we do so with the full realisation that the person we knew is not actually there - only their shell, not their spirit, or essence, or whatever you may care to call it - but we still feel the need to go to that specific spot to 'reconnect' with them. Recently, I've begun to ponder whether revisiting an old house or neighbourhood is like visiting the grave of my childhood - there it lies, dead and buried, and I'm merely looking at a monument to its former existence.

Hopefully I'm wrong.  Hopefully, the spirit of childhood yet resides in me as a living, breathing reality and will never forsake me.  Perhaps the simple truth is not so much that childhood forsakes us, but that we forsake childhood.

So, can one go home again?  They say that home is where the heart is - but the heart is sometimes a fickle and indecisive organ, and not always to be trusted.

What would your answer be?

******

If you enjoyed this post, you may also enjoy this one.

FAB FRANKIE'S FREAKY FIZZOG...

For fans of the FRANKENSTEIN MONSTER who may have wondered what the actual colour of his skin was supposed to be in those old black and white films, you may be surprised to learn that the model kits and toys down through the years had it right from day one.  As you can see from this rare, unretouched colour photo of BORIS KARLOFF from the movie, SON Of FRANKENSTEIN, his epidermis was a pale and putrid green.

Pea soup, anyone?  (If so, better get it looked at.) 

MADE TO MAKE YOUR MOUTH WATER...

Anyone remember when STARBURST (no, not the sci-fi magazine - the sweets) were called OPAL FRUITS?  When I was a lad, there was an advert on telly for ESSO BLUE which I would deliberately confuse with the one for Opal Fruits.  "Esso Blue - made to make your mouth water", I would trill merrily, replacing the combustible fuel for the delicious sweets.  I can only suppose that both tunes were similar, which led to my youthful act of 'creative manipulation'.

Anyway, for all those who mourn the loss of a familiar name from childhood, above is a wrapper to remind you of how things used to be.

A LITTLE BIT THOR - COVER GALLERY...

Copyright MARVEL COMICS

Here's a special treat for all you Crivvie THOR fans - a super selection of seven KING-SIZE covers from the early days of his career before he became a massive, mega-hit movie star.  The first five are drawn by JACK KIRBY (with a panel by JOE SINNOTT in #s 1 & 2), and the sixth and seventh are by MARIE SEVERIN and SAL BUSCEMA respectively (unless I'm very much mistaken).  Enjoy passing your peepers over such awesome art.

BUSTER, SON Of ANDY CAPP - PART THREE...

Images copyright REBELLION

The ASTOUNDING ADVENTURES Of CHARLIE PEACE made its debut in a promotional strip in VALIANT before appearing the week after in BUSTER in June 1964, bowing out ten years later in June '74.  A strange choice for a strip in a children's comic as the real-life Charles Peace on whom the strip was based was not only a 19th century burgler but also a murderer!  At first, Charlie Peace was set in Victorian times but in a January 1968 issue, an inventor tricked him into a time machine (disguised as a safe) and Charlie was transported to modern London.

When the strip had first started, Charlie's dishonest schemes to acquire financial gain inevitably failed, with Charlie just managing to escape capture for his would-be dodgy dealings.  However, after a while Charlie became more of a lovable rogue who often had the last laugh in the final panel, but usually by accident or good fortune and not as a direct result of any devious design on his part.  Eventually, he was able to return to his own time period.  He was illustrated throughout his ten year stretch by a variety of artists, including ERIC BRADBURY, TOM KERR, JACK PAMBY, ALAN PHILPOTT, DOUG MAXTED and one or two others.

   

The TWITOPIANS was a strip about tiny alien invaders trying to take over our world, drawn by STAN McMURTRY and GORDON HOGG (at different times, obviously).  It lasted about sixteen months from September 1968 to January 1970. 

TIN TEACHER, drawn by artist PETER DAVIDSON, first appeared in the comic in October of 1965, lasting until January 1970.  It was later reprinted between June 1979 and April 1980.  I won't insult your intelligence by describing the strip's premise - it's pretty obvious.

AIRFIX (now owned by HORNBY) is still on the go today.  Why not support it by buying a load of model kits for all your little nephews for their birthdays and Christmases?  Go on, you know it makes sense.

Who'da thunk it?  FISHBOY, DENIZEN Of The DEEP was a strip about a boy with fish-like qualities (he liked to have salt and vinegar sprinkled over his body and be wrapped up in newspaper) who was searching for his parents.  Okay, part of that last bit was a lie - he had slightly webbed hands and feet and could breathe underwater (but my version's better).  Drawn by JOHN STOKES (for the most part) and written by SCOTT GOODALL, the strip appeared between 1968 and 1975. 

Well, BUSTER GIGGLES wraps it up for this post.  Tune in again soon for Part Four - your life won't be complete if you don't.

******

See Part Four here.  See Part Two here.

SECRET AGENT? THAT'S AN ODD JOB...

It was in The GARDEN PET SHOP (next door to NURSERYLAND) sometime around Christmas in 1965/'66 that I first saw the above AIRFIX model of JAMES BOND & ODDJOB (one word apparently).  I perhaps ought to explain that, although the shop sold foodstuffs and accessories for pets (I can't recollect if it actually sold any pets themselves - I don't think so), it also sold a small selection of toys, models and games on its first (or maybe second) floor.

I remember being struck by the box art, which remained in my memory forever after though I don't recall seeing it again until many, many years later - and then only in photographs in magazines.  At one time, to purchase an original would have cost a collector £150, but Airfix re-released the kit around 1999 for under a tenner, although it had a different box.  I bought one of course - and one day I fully intend to sit down and build the rascal.

However, it was probably the box art more than the model itself which fascinated me (I had looked inside the box back on that day in the '60s and don't remember being too impressed), and now, thanks to the Internet, I now have a nice, complete copy of the top and sides, the top of which is reproduced above.

As I said, one day I'll build and paint the model - and also make a facsimile of the original box.  Then that faraway day in my childhood won't seem so long ago as the cold, hard years (and the sight of my reflection) tell me it must have been.

ALL OUR YESTERDAYS...?

Living in my seventh house by the time I was 28, I've often wondered what it feels like for those who've stayed in the same residence for all of their remembered life.  You see, to me, the memories of each area I lived in (especially growing up), each set of friends, neighbours, and experiences, is almost like having lived several alternate lives when I think back on them.  To someone who's always lived in the same house, I'd imagine it's an entirely different scenario.

I wonder if their perception of time matches my own, as having stayed in one place all their life, does their childhood seem to have passed faster or slower to them, not having consisted of separate 'epochs' in the way that mine has?  As I explained in another post, regardless of whether I lived somewhere for one year, four years, or seven years, when I think back, it just doesn't feel as if I resided longer in one place than I did another.  Consequently, having lived in five houses before I was 14 - for what seems like equal duration - the impression that I've had five distinct childhoods is perhaps more understandable than it would at first appear.

However, if you've been in the same house all your life, you only have memories of growing up against the backdrop of one place to reflect on in later life.  So - does your sense of time, uninterrupted as it was in comparison to mine, operate on the same level?  I don't suppose I'll ever know, but the subject fascinates me.  As I said in a previous post, I have a tendency to imbue a sense of the profound into the most trivial of concepts - perhaps this is just one such occasion.

If anyone has any thoughts on the matter, then feel free to share them in the comments section. 

TERRIFIC COVER GALLERY PART SIX...

Copyright MARVEL COMICS

Well, we've passed the half-way mark.  This latest instalment of 1967 TERRIFIC front and back covers takes us up to #28 and, as there were only ever 43 issues in total, that leaves only 15 to go.  Regular readers will have noticed that some of these pin-up pages have also appeared in the FANTASTIC COVER GALLERY posts.  That's simply because a few of them were simultaneously printed in both comics - but not always, sometimes being entirely different between both titles.  If you bought both of them, you occasionally had two copies of the same pin-up - if you didn't, you only had one, but probably missed some good ones by not buying the companion paper.  Ah well, who ever said that life was easy?

Remember to tune in again for Part Seven - coming soon.

THE ULTIMATE BEANO SUMMER SPECIAL #2...

Copyright D.C. THOMSON & Co., Ltd

For those of you who may not already know, The ULTIMATE BEANO SUMMER SPECIAL #2 is on sale even as I type these words.  It's exclusive to WH SMITH's, so there's no point going looking for it in any other shop as you'll be wasting your time.

I'd love to show you the contents, but I can't without damaging the spine and cover, so you'll just have to buy your own copy.  Priced at £4.99, it contains all your favourite Beano characters from previous Summer Specials and the weekly comic.

Go on - relive your yesterdays today!

The DENIS GIFFORD LETTER(S)...

Copyright relevant owners

Back in 1976, I submitted a one page strip to the late comics collector and historian DENIS GIFFORD's new magazine, ALLY SLOPER.  Denis wrote back, saying that the inking style I had employed wouldn't reproduce too well so he would be unable to use it.  (Probably his polite way of saying it was cr*p.)  However, he complimented me on my lettering, saying he had no doubt I would be able to make a living from it were I so inclined.

I immediately replied, offering my services as a letterer, and he responded with the missive which you can read above.  Unfortunately, his first letter is lost to the mists of time and hence I can't reproduce it here.  (I'm not quite sure by what stroke of good fortune his second one survived.)  If it hadn't been for Denis, it would probably never have occurred to me to seek employment as a comics calligrapher, so thanks, Denis.

Interestingly though, when I first started school, the very first thing I was complimented on - even before my artwork - was my handwriting.  In fact, in both Primaries and the Secondary school I attended, my handwriting was the first thing to be noticed and commented upon, leaving me to wonder if I was fulfilling some kind of destiny when I started signwriting and then eventually lettering for comics many years later.

Another thing I was good at as a boy was finding money - so let's hope I'm fated to come into possession of large amounts of the stuff soon.  I must remember to buy myself a Lottery ticket this coming Wednesday.  (It could be me!)   Anyone know if it's a rollover?

******

For Part Two, click here.

A MARVEL MASTERWORK PIN-UP...

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS

For no other reason than I think it's dynamite.  Anyone disagree?  The image was used as an iron-on transfer given away with the first issue of TERRIFIC in 1967. That's the transfer below, frantic ones.  (Click to enlarge, then click again.)