KING OF THE WILD FRONTIER...

Anyone remember the wooden DAVY CROCKETT huts that used to be in a lot of Scottish swing-parks in the 1960s?  I think they were removed in the early-to-mid '70s (or maybe a bit later), but I'd love to have a photograph of one to remind me of happy days gone by.  Anybody got one I could copy?  Let me know, Criv-ites.

The STAIRWAY To 'HEAVEN' LEADS DOWN, NOT UP... (Updated - AGAIN)

The middle building sits on what was once part of the garden.  An annexe hut was just
visible behind the edifice on the right.  The stairs of the manse on the left have been
replaced, the originals being well-worn, and with a wall instead of a railing

As a teenager, I went through a phase where I developed an interest in religion.  Y'know, the full "who am I, where did I come from, why am I here, where am I going?" bit.  Consequently, I attended a couple of church youth clubs with some pals, who weren't quite so interested in religion, but were interested in the girls who frequented such establishments.  We were regarded as 'neds', not because we were (not real neds anyway), but because, compared to our fellows (all saintly-minded believers who saw Jesus as their 'personal Saviour' and who were liable to break into a chorus of 'Kumbaya' - with guitar accompaniment - at the drop of a hat), we were seen as 'rough boys' to be pitied and avoided if we couldn't be 'converted'.  (Not in the recent Doctor Who way, I hasten to add.)

The basement fire exit.  Members came and went through here to
and from the garden.  The barred window on the left is the one seen
from inside the basement's main room in the next photo

One such club was held in the basement of what used to be the manse, within the same grounds as the church itself.  The last time I recall being in that basement must've been around 1979 or '80 - almost 40 years ago.  Wow!  That's a hard one to get my head around.  At the back of the church once stood an annexe hut, which was replaced with a large extension a good number of years back, housing a cafe and various other things.  I was in there yesterday for a coffee (first time I've used the place), and after I'd finished, I took a wander into the former manse and visited the basement.  It was pretty much as I remembered, though it looks like the kitchen has had a refit, and what was once a window-sized opening into the kitchen from the staircase has now actually had a window fitted.

If I recall rightly, an old radiator was affixed to the wall under the window, and the
seating was previously oblong wooden box-like structures with square cushions on
top for comfort 

As I stood looking around and drinking in the memories of my teenage visits to the place with my friends (one of whom died some years ago), I was struck by just how recent it all seemed to have been.  Hard as it might be for you to believe, I was regarded as what we Scots call the 'leader-aff' by my group, which was probably a good thing as I tended to rein them in a bit from indulging in the full catalogue of youthful 'hijinks'.  Had all those years really elapsed since I'd last stood in these low-ceilinged vaults?  It hardly seemed possible.  I was both cheered and saddened by the occasion, and returned this very afternoon with my camera and snapped a few photos for posterity.  However, yet again I'm reminded of just how fleeting the years are, and how quickly events of the present become mere echoes of the past in the haunting halls of memory.

I remember sitting in the room through the doorway back in the '70s, but can't recall
if it housed a pool table back then.  I dimly see a table tennis table in my mind, but
could be imagining it 

It's strange to think that what was once a very familiar place to me on a weekly basis (perhaps even twice-weekly, as there may've been a Wednesday meeting as well as a Sunday one) for a couple of years or so, faded from my mind once I'd left it behind.  (I simply became too 'old' for a 'youth' club.)  However, I think there's a difference between not thinking about something and truly forgetting it, and all it takes is a sight (or a scent) of something familiar to bring it all back to the forefront of one's thoughts as if it were only yesterday.  Ever had a similar experience while revisiting a place from your far-away youth?  Then feel free to share your reminiscences with all your fellow Criv-ites in the comments section.

A view of the garden - the building on the left once wasn't part of it,
and there used to be a huge tree roughly in the middle of the lawn

Taken from roughly the same spot (or near it) back in the 1970s.  If
you look really closely, you can see my Coke can to the left of the tree.
The last tree in the row may be the one in the above photo.  If not, it'll
be one of the ones in the background

In case you're interested, below are some more photos.  If I can find ones I took back in the 1970s, I'll add them for comparison.  (Now done, but I'll add any more I find at a later date.)

The front of what  used to be the manse.  The extension on the
left sits on what was once part of the garden, as was the car park

The church (Baptist) building itself.  It's reported that the 'pastor' from my time later
'moved on' after having affairs with women in his 'flock'.  Don't know if he left the
ministry, but this was a man who spoke to me like something he'd scraped off his shoe

This photo was taken from the bowling green on the other side of the church in the
above photo (that's it on the left).  You can see part of the annexe hut to the right,
which is where the extension now sits...

...as you can see from this recent photo

The Old Village Hall across the road from the church
was being transformed into a theatre at the time... 

...and here's the same view nearly 40 years later

The stairs to the basement

Basement seen from the doorway

View from inside the pool room

View of the main room from pool room doorway

The kitchen is situated around to the far right

This closed-off stairway is situated between the previous scene
and the next one.  It was thus in my day too.  Teenagers used to
sit here chatting

The stairway in the previous pic is to the left of the doorway

The kitchen looks surprisingly smaller than I remember it, but I
 don't think it had so many cupboards and stuff as it does now 

The window on the right was once just an open frame, through which
members would take a shortcut into the kitchen from the staircase

Back around to the main room...

...and up the stairs to the outside world.  Our
visit's over, so "Th-th-that's all, folks!"

The MAGIC Of TELEVISION...

Saw this on MARK EVANIER's blog and thought

I'd share it with you.  Now that's what I call magic!

COMMENT On CONTROVERSY...

My previous post had a lot of good comments, but one that I thought cut right to the heart of the matter in a simple, matter-of-fact way was the one below by Dave S.  I thought it deserved a spot of its own, so here it is.

******

I'm also disappointed that we've been given a female Doctor apparently in the name of political correctness.  To me, the character that I've been watching and reading about since at least 1980 is a male, and I feel it will be difficult for me to adjust to a female playing the role.  If anyone wants to label me a sexist over that, go right ahead, I've been called worse.

What I find remarkable is that the views of me and people like me are simply being dismissed as the ramblings of old fogies or met with hostility - one comics pro-fessional (who I don't believe I've heard of) can post on Twitter that anyone who doesn't like the casting can 'STFU and don't watch it' and this is not only tolerated, but congratulated.

It seems as if some people have just decided that if they shout louder than others, then their opinions become the default correct viewpoint that everyone else should either adhere to or be dismissed and abused.

I do not want a female Doctor.  Should anyone want  to take that personally and abuse me for it, go ahead.

Someone in the Daily Mail comments section made the point that this casting is like Jackie Chan playing Poirot.  It reeks of stunt casting, cheap sensationalism used in lieu of actual ideas.

I'm undecided right now whether I'll be watching the next series.  Part of me wants to give it a try - it is after all something that has meant a lot to me for almost my entire life, but part of me also thinks that the Christmas special might be a good jumping-off point.  If I switched off just as the regeneration scene starts, I would have seen The Doctor in his final body, meeting his original self, and passing away having fought the good fight so many times.

I'm also concerned at Chris Chibnall's comments that he always intended to cast a female Doctor - shouldn't he be looking for the best actor available, irrespective of anything else?  The fact he's said that just confirms to me that this is a gimmick, a way of causing controversy simply to get attention. 

Anyway, that's my thoughts for the mo.

The DAY The DOCTOR DIED...

Well, that's it for me.  Barring the Christmas Special - which I'll only be tuning into to see DAVID BRADLEY as the first Doctor - I won't be watching any episodes of the new series of DOCTOR WHO when it's shown in 2018.  For several years now there's been a gay agenda in various TV shows, Doctor Who included (culminating in a lesbian kiss in the last episode of the recent series), trying to brainwash us all into believing that gender is unimportant, and sexual orientation is a flexible condition that we should all experiment with and further erode traditional male/female roles in society.

You see, it's all those 'luvvy' thespians (and writers, directors, and producers) most of whom were never quite sure which side of the floor they danced on, wanting to rewire  society into their ideal version of what it should be.  However, that's not the main reason The Doctor has now had a gender re-assessment inflicted on him.  The show is in trouble, suffering declining viewing figures and lack of interest from the general public ('cos it's written for fanboys in anoraks who enjoying dressing up as Doctor Who or his companions) and it needs a shot in the arm to revive interest in order to keep merchandise sales propping up Auntie Beeb.

With that in mind, what better time to embrace misandrist philosophy and remake one of Great Britain's iconic male heroes into a woman?  Can you see that happening to TARZAN, or SHERLOCK HOLMES, or JAMES BOND 007, or any other legendary male hero of TV, Cinema, or literature?  Once, it would have been unthinkable, but not any more, alas, in the mad pursuit of higher viewing figures and more merchandise revenue.  The BBC making this desperate decision demonstrates what I've suspected for some time - they simply don't know where to take the show next so have chosen controversy to try and give it a much-needed shot in the arm.  I'd have preferred the show to be euthanised.  It would've been far kinder.

PART TWO Of HAUNTED HORROR COVER GALLERY...

Images copyright GUSSONI-YOE STUDIO, Inc.

Well, I know you don't come to this blog looking for edifying exposition or informative explanations, so there's no point wearing myself out trying to give you some.  Nope, you lot come here for the palpitating piccies, of which we have 8 this time around for you to savour and salivate over.  I won't hold you back - get goin'!

BABE Of The DAY - STEFANIE POWERS...

It's sexy STEFANIE POWERS,

giving me 'the eye' and trying to seduce

me into sharing space on her stool.  Later,

Stef - I've still got to see to SALMA's and

RAQUEL's romantic demands so you'll

simply have to wait your turn.  (Huh!

 Women - they're so demanding!)

BATMAN & ADAM WEST - WHAT IF...?

Back around 1988, when the BATMAN movie was going into production, ADAM WEST was trying to drum up support for him getting the opportunity of reprising his role as the Caped Crusader.  Interviewed on TV-am, he said he'd only be interested in doing it if it was a film noir, gothic, serious type of movie, but was certainly up for playing Batman on the big screen.

TIM BURTON wasn't interested in West though, beyond offering him a cameo role as Dr. THOMAS WAYNE, young BRUCE's father.  Perhaps West felt Wayne Sr. being killed at the start of the movie would somehow symbolise the demise of his ownership of the role of Batman, but whatever the reason, he declined.  If he couldn't play Bruce then he wouldn't play at all.

At the time of the movie being made, West was only around 59-60, so it wasn't altogether impossible for him to have carried it off, especially if the producers had followed FRANK MILLER's concept of an older, retired Batman returning to the fray.  As Batman in action was mainly a stuntman in the suit, I feel there was no real impediment to West's participation.

Except one perhaps.  That being, with West's involvement, audiences would've anticipated the movie being like the '60s TV show.  In the end, it didn't matter, because that's exactly what they expected anyway.  On my first visit to see the movie, I overheard departing viewers at the film's finish saying "I thought it was going to be just like the TV show!"  They sounded disappointed it wasn't, much to my surprise.

Perhaps I shouldn't have been.  A TV-am technicians strike in November '87 resulted in the '60s show being hastily drafted in to fill airtime and, surprisingly, it became quite a hit with early morning viewers, sparking a resurgence in 'Batmania' that almost rivalled its '60s heyday.  It was relatively short-lived, but the camp version of Batman was freshly re-established - in the minds of British viewers at least.

It would've been interesting to see West getting a crack at playing the DARK KNIGHT persona of Batman.  I think he could've pulled it off, but alas it was not to be.  On reflection, perhaps it was for the best.  Maybe Adam West's Batman belongs in the '60s, as much as The BEATLES and SEAN CONNERY's version of BOND - at least to people around my age.

And yet... I still think it could've worked, and it would've been great to see West finally getting what he so richly deserved - a major, motion picture blockbuster movie, reprising the role with which he'd been so long associated, but playing it straight and without the laughs.  C'mon, admit it - you'd have loved to see that movie too, wouldn't you?  Do tell.  

IF I HAD A HAMMER... (I DO, I DO! I'VE GOT TWO!)

Did you play superheroes as a child?  I did, but it was (with two exceptions) a rather solitary pursuit, as the other kids in my street didn't seem to regard dressing up (outside of Hallowe'en) as something to indulge in.  The two exceptions were JOHN FIDLER, who was ROBIN to my BATMAN, and PHILIP MARSHALL, who was WONDER MAN to my POWER MAN (or might've been the other way around).  In my neighbourhood at least, it was viewed as uncool, though I'm not sure whether that word was in vogue back in the mid-'60s outside of the hippie community.  Even though I was only 7 or 8 years old, I came in for a fair amount of mockery for my costumed capers from my critical contemporaries.

The only time I saw anyone else playing superheroes was when I espied GEORGE COOPER and his wee brother BRIAN (or perhaps another brother, IAN) playing at Batman & Robin in the narrow lane adjacent to their back garden.  Obviously they didn't want to be observed out in the open street, and that was the only time I saw them indulge themselves.  However, there was a couple of other occasions when caution was thrown to the winds by other of my peers, who, perhaps intrigued by what I found enjoyable in the pastime of assuming a costumed alias, deigned to join in my escapist escapades.  In fact, they asked if they could, as though I'd be bestowing a great favour upon them.

The first such occasion was during a 'playtime' break in primary school one fine day.  IAIN MORRIS and a few others who I no longer recall as being associated with this rare event, asked me if they could play superheroes with me.  "Sure", I agreed.  I would be SUPERMAN and they could all be Superman's robots.  They instantly fell into 'mechanical man' mode, favoured in more modern times by robotic street performers, whereupon I informed them that Superman's robots walked and talked just like normal humans (or Kryptonians), not robots.  It was to no avail, and they simply did their own thing, leading me to abandon the exercise as a lost cause.

The other time was when some of the neighbourhood kids enquired if they could join in my superhero antics.  I was surprised, but acquiesced, wondering if their usual games like football and whatever else they got up to had perhaps temporarily lost their shine, prompting them to investigate the allure of pretending to be super-powered crusaders.  I was playing at THOR when they asked me this, so I said they could be any hero they liked.  ELAINE BAIRD decided on WONDER WOMAN (I think - we'd no concerns over cross-pollinating MARVEL and DC heroes back then - if the distinction even occurred to us), and the others took on the roles of various popular heroes.  We decided on the DAVY CROCKETT hut in the swingpark as our 'hero headquarters' and set about our play.

I should mention that when I assumed the mantle of Thor, I had two accessories.  One was a homemade mallet, the other was a gnarled tree-branch which served as Dr. DON BLAKE's cane.  I'd hit my 'cane' on the ground while supplying a vocal 'thunder' sound effect, whip my 'uru' hammer from behind my back, then substitute the cane in its place of concealment.  (This was done in reverse when I changed from Thor to Blake.)  Trouble was, my intrepid band of heroes were unable to grasp the concept (regardless of however many times I explained it to them) that only Thor performed this ritual to change identities and other heroes had their own methods of transformation, such as mundanely switching clothes.  To see them all striking invisible hammers and hiding invisible canes to the 'sound of thunder' was simply ridiculous and frustrated me no end, I can tell you.

As you can imagine, dissatisfaction was felt on both sides, and we each returned to our own favoured means of entertainment, which was probably for the best.  After all, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it a superhero!  Anyway, speaking of homemade Thor hammers, you may be wondering what mine was made from.  Well, back in 1968, there used to be a toy called, I think, ZIP-ZAP - which was a twin-coloured bit of oblong sponge with a long elastic cord running through it.  The idea of this 'game' was for two players to stand at opposite ends of the room and quickly swing the sponge between them, trying to grab it between their knees.  Whoever managed it 'best out of three' was the winner.  My 'mallet' was the sponge tied to a cane with thongs painted onto it - with blue HUMBROL paint no less.  (I didn't have brown or yellow.)

Anyway, it's time to wrap up this self-indulgent post, and I'll do so by telling you all something that I probably shouldn't admit to.  A few years ago, I purchased a replica toy hammer of Thor (a large one) from my local comicbook shop - the one bearing the inscription "Whosoever holds this hammer..."  One dark night, I got a pal to run me along to my former neighbourhood, and unobserved (I hope), I walked over the remaining half of the field where I'd played Thor as a kid (the other half had become the site of amenity apartments for the elderly some years before), clutching my mighty uru (okay, plastic) hammer, remembering and re-creating a moment from my childhood, and bringing the past closer to the present in the process.  Sure, bonkers I know, but what the hell...!

I now have a newer version of Thor's MJOLNIR - more like the JACK KIRBY incarnation - and I may well be tempted to take it along to my old environs one fine ebony evening and repeat the glad event.  So, if things suddenly turn quiet on this blog for a while, you'll all know what's transpired.  After all, I can't publish posts from the cells of my local cop shop - there's no flippin' internet access.  Oh, just one more thing... "For ODIN!  For ASGARD!" 

 (Nurse, I feel much better now.)

******

I've just remembered re-creating Thor's battle with HERCULES (which I'd just read in the 1968 FANTASTIC Summer Special) with STUART MUNN, in a corner of the school playground, either on a weekend or during the summer holidays.  Doubtless another time when another kid was so bored, he played along with my superhero fantasies.

RECOMMENDED READING: THE SILVER AGE DOOM PATROL OMNIBUS...

Images copyright DC COMICS

Here's a great book I got a few days ago - The SILVER AGE DOOM PATROL OMNIBUS.  Intrigued?  Then read the official spiel on the back of the dustjacket below, then race around to your neighbourhood comicbook shop and buy a copy.  You'll be glad you did, or my name isn't ARNOLD DRAKE.  (What's that?  My name isn't Arnold Drake?  Well, whaddya know?!  Never mind - you'll still be glad you did anyway.) 

BABE Of The DAY - STEFANIE POWERS...

If STEFANIE POWERS is The GIRL

From U.N.C.L.E., would that make her my

niece?  If so, I'd need to sit down and have a

HART To HART with her, but it wouldn't

 be easy - in fact it would be 'moider'!

HERE'S A BUBBLY WEE DALEK...

Apparently, this DALEK bubble bath from 1976 is regarded as quite collectable and can fetch a tidy sum in Dr. WHO circles.  A friend saw it in a charity shop for £1 and bought it for me.  A nice addition to my Dalek ranks, eh?

RECOMMENDED READING: TRUE BELIEVERS - AMAZING FANTASY #15 & AMAZING SPIDER-MAN #1 REPRINTS...

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS

Here's a pair of comics that every True Believer will want to get their hands on - SPIDEY's origin tale and the 1st issue of his very own mag.  Available now from all good comic shops!  (Psst, here's the best bit - they're only around 75 pence each - buy a dozen!)

STAN LEE'S WIFE JOAN PASSES AWAY...

I'm sure that all Criv-ites would like to pass on their condolences to STAN LEE and his family, on the sad death of Stan's beloved wife JOAN.  British-born Joan was a model when she and Stan met, and it's believed that Stan came up with The FANTASTIC FOUR in response to Joan's suggestion that he write comics the way he'd like to see them written.  The rest, as they say, is history.