STAR TREK - The SLOW-MOTION PICTURE...

I remember 1979 almost as if it were only last week.  1979 was the year that STAR TREK The MOTION PICTURE was released and, to be honest, I considered it a bit of a dud.  The movie came out a mere ten years after the TV series had ended, but for some strange reason that ten years seemed more like twenty.  The show had been repeated by the BBC a number of times since cancellation, and there was also an animated series in 1973-'74, so it seemed as if it had always been around in some form or other.  The fact, therefore, that there seemed to be an enormous gulf of time between the end of the show's first UK broadcast and the release of the movie strikes me as odd - almost surreal.  I guess that when you're only 20, as I was in '79, ten years feels like a far longer period of time, as it represents exactly one half of your life up to that point.  (I have to say that the movie seemed to last ten years when I first saw it - it moves at an incredibly slow pace and is devoid of action.)

As I said, 1979 doesn't seem that long ago to me, so it feels weird to now live in a world where so many of the original cast are no longer around, having passed away over recent years.  They'll live on, of course, in their performances, and to someone like me who never met any of the actors, I can re-experience them in exactly the same way I first did as a kid and teenager - on television.  In that respect, nothing has really changed.  Does it ever?  Time travel is a fascinating hypothesis however unlikely it seems, but thanks to DVDs of classic shows, we can all return to our youth whenever the fancy takes us.  Anyway, these thoughts were swirling around in my head, so I thought I'd share them with the rest of you to make of what you will.

However, returning to the movie franchise, I'm glad to say that the next one - The WRATH Of KHAN - was a vast improvement, but my favourite was the last in the original series of films - The UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY, which I thought was immensely entertaining.  The movie came out an astounding 26 years ago in 1991, yet seems nowhere near as long ago as the ten years between the TV series ending in 1969 and the release of the first movie in '79.  Anyway, if your brain hurts as much as mine does after wading through all that, here's a nice pic of NICHELLE NICHOLS to make you feel better.  

Live long, and prosper.

BABE Of The DAY - GAL GADOT...

Why are you dressed like that,

GAL?  Don't you know Hallowe'en has

passed?  What's that?  It's your WONDER

WOMAN costume?  Heck, no one's ever

going to wonder if you're a woman -

 there's not a doubt about it.

TOGETHER AGAIN - 45 YEARS LATER...

Copyright relevant owner

When KNOCKOUT comic first appeared back in 1971, one of my very favourite strips was The HAUNTED WOOD.  Part of its appeal was that the intro pic reminded me of the woods at the top of the street where I'd lived between 1960 and '64.  (Wardlaw Woods they were known as.)  After flitting, I soon developed the compulsive habit of making occasional 'pilgrimages' along to the woods to recharge my memories of them, but in '71, the above green-hued picture served as a handy reminder between visits.

After lending several week's worth of my Knockouts to a friend and getting them back much later in a mutilated condition, I cut out the logo from one of the issues and kept it inside my WADE YOGI BEAR box, in which it was practically a perfect fit.  In 1972, after moving to a house in a different neighbourhood, I bought the Knockout Summer Special (in the newsagent's across from my former house after school one day), and I eventually cut out the above colour logo for keeping in my Yogi Bear Box.  I no longer recall whether the two pics cohabited, or I replaced the first with the second, but it was either one or the other of those two possibilities.

Anyway, I finally got around to scanning both pics from replacement issues and printing them out, so they both now reside in my replacement box which I acquired around ten years back.  I know it sounds daft, but to re-create something from 45-46 years ago is a strangely satisfying sensation - at least it is to me.  Have you ever felt compelled to re-create some aspect of your past, or am I the only one around here who's as mad as a bag of spiders?  Don't be shy - share your craziness with the rest of us in the comments section.

The pics are stored behind the inner tray

SAID The ACTRESS To The BISHOP...?

I've been following some of the recent stushie about alleged 'sexual harassment' with mixed feelings.  While no one can excuse rape, or inappropriate touching, I can't help but feel that some feminists have been exploiting it for their own ends - namely, putting the boot into men just because they're men.  The impression has been created that all men are latent rapists, perverts, potty-mouthed louts, and downright nasty individuals.  (And, to be fair, a lot of them are.)  If you're male, you've been told for many a long year now that if you ever find yourself walking behind a woman on a street, you should cross the road so that she won't feel threatened.  But why would she feel threatened?  Because you're a man of course.  As a man, I find this extremely insulting.  Actually, the people most likely to be attacked on the street are young males, but they don't expect people behind them to cross to the opposite pavement to allay their fears.

Let me tell you something.  I've worked in mostly all-women environments a few times throughout my working life, and I can categorically state that they can be just as vulgar, sexually suggestive, and 'touchy-feely' as some men can be.  (And I know whereof I speak, as I was once 'touched up' by a woman at work.)  The deciding factor in whether a man is being inappropriately verbally vulgar seems to depend on whether he's considered attractive or not.  If you look like Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp, you can tell a 'naughty' joke and women will laugh; if you don't, then there are always some women (and men) who are determined to be offended.  If that isn't your experience, then you've been lucky.  Some of the dirtiest jokes I know were told to me by women.  And every weekend, I see women out on the street being loud, sweary, vulgar, and offensive.  Men don't have a monopoly on those vices.

Almost every night on TV, you see comedians indulging in vulgar innuendo, or even being sexually explicit in the jokes they tell.  As the camera pans across the audience, you see women laughing just as much as men (sometimes moreso), and it's a safe bet it's the same with viewers at home.  I find it hypocritical that someone can view and laugh at such material on a regular basis (and thus bestow their approval on it) and then take offense when some poor guy at work makes a comment or tells a joke in a similar vein.  Remember when some woman a while back complained about a guy complimenting her on her Facebook (I think) photo, saying that his comments were offensive?  (All he'd done, if I remember correctly, was to say that it was a nice photo.)  Well, the sh*t hit the fan, but it was later revealed that she'd done the very same thing on various occasions herself.  So what is it that seemingly makes it okay for women to assume the exclusive right to be offended?

Let's be clear though.  It's wrong to use one's position of power or authority to make sexual passes at employees, whether they be men or women.  On the other hand, there are those who view such passes as a sign of approval, who even, in fact, go out of their way to ingratiate themselves with the boss by flirting and using their womanly wiles to encourage such attention.  That's part of the problem.  There seems to be no consensus among women (or men) as to what is acceptable and what isn't.  Johnny Depp could approach a woman in a bar and say "Grab your coat, luv, you've pulled" and the object of his attention would probably swoon with delight (or at least be flattered).  Whereas, if it was Johnny Vegas (before he was famous), the comment would likely be far less appreciated.  We need to have the same standard of what's considered acceptable behaviour for everyone, not vary it depending on looks, wealth, or status.

So is that what it boils down to?  If the person making the pass is physically attractive, no harm done, but if it's someone much less aesthetically-pleasing to the eye, then he's a grotty pervert who deserves to be lynched?  Surely there has to be another, better way to distinguish between what is acceptable and what isn't.  At the moment, the measure of what is regarded as unwelcome or offensive seems to be completely subjective, even arbitrary, depending on who's making the remark and who it's directed at.  It's the culture which is at fault and something needs to be done, but let's not fool ourselves that men are the only villains in this drama, or that women are the only victims.

Another thing.  I can quite understand why some people are afraid to complain about sexual harassment because of a fear of not being believed, but in the case of Gwyneth Paltrow and Angelina Jolie, their chief concerns seem to have been to protect their financially lucrative careers, at the expense of potentially allowing other women to become victims of their alleged 'molester'.  (I say 'alleged' merely to legally protect myself, and because the guy has yet to be found guilty.)  Now the pair are being lauded for their bravery in coming forward, when their former silence facilitated other women allegedly falling prey to the individual they're now complaining about.  They hadn't been threatened with violence or murder if they'd spoken out earlier - the only thing they seemed to be concerned about were smaller bank accounts.  That's something we should perhaps remember when they're making their self-serving, self-righteous pronouncements.

Anyway, having said that, nothing is ever that simple and I'm sort of feeling my way along (behave) and trying to work out what I think about all this, so feel free to weigh in with your own thoughts and observations.  For the record, I think we should have capital punishment for all convicted rapists and paedos, but when it comes to making a clumsy, non-physical pass at someone, or making a comment which can evoke opposite responses depending on who the listener is, then it's probably better if we try and keep a sense of perspective about things.  It does genuine victims no service to equate their experience with far lesser 'transgressions'.

What sayest thou?            

MIKE STOKES PASSES AWAY...

Sadly, I've just learned that Mike Stokes from the opobs blog passed away on the 23rd of October.  You'll possibly remember my post back in August saying he was ill with pancreatic cancer, but it's still a sad surprise and shock to learn that he died so shortly after.  I hope his end was as peaceful as it could be when it came, given the circumstances.  Condolences to his family and friends.  

Rest in peace, Mike.

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In memory of Mike, why not click the above link and visit his blog, which is still up.  There's many an interesting tale to be found there.

RIVALS, ROBBERS & RIVERS - AND READER'S DIGEST... (Updated)

As regular readers will know, I'm a big fan of  The Wind In The Willows.  Back in the early '90s I saw an ad for a game based on the book, which was called Rivals, Robbers and Rivers, and decided that I'd quite like to own it.  The ad was in one of those mini catalogues that are sometimes included inside Sunday newspapers, so I cut out the page and saved it so that I could order the game at an opportune moment.  (I still have the ad somewhere, and I'll add it to this post when I find it again.)  Update: Now done.

Anyway, the years came and went, but I never did get around to sending away for it, though around four years or so ago, I bought (via eBay) the Reader's Digest Willows game based on the Carlton Television animated cartoon series from the '90s.  Then, a couple of months or so ago, I saw on eBay the very game I'd coveted for over 25 years and bought it for a very reasonable price indeed.  I'd mainly wanted it for the figures, as I'm not really a 'games' person (aside from Chess and darts*, which I haven't played in ages), so it's nice to finally have it after a quarter of a century.  (And you just know that I'm going to say that it only feels like a fraction of that time, don't you?)

Anyway, thought I'd show you all my 'ill-gotten booty' (behave), so here are some nice pictures of both games for your perusal.  As I said, I'll add the glossy ad when I find it (and as I also said, now done).  Sadly, The Traditional Games Company who manufactured the game is no longer around.

(*Yeah, the sporty type, ain't I?)

Below is the very ad in which I first saw the game, as well as the order form.  As it turned out, I got it quite a bit cheaper on eBay all these years later.

And below is the 2nd game, based on the Carlton TV show.  Its figures are also nice, but the ones above are modelled after E.H. Shepard's illustrations, so are a little more 'authentic'-looking.

REMEMBER, REMEMBER, THE 5TH OF NOVEMBER? NO THANKS, I'D RATHER FORGET IT - AND WISH EVERYONE ELSE WOULD TOO...

You know you're getting old when the things that enthralled you as a kid no longer hold any magic for you - except perhaps in memory.  Take BONFIRE NIGHT for example.  I don't mind seeing and hearing fireworks when I'm out and about, but I find the noise irritating and intrusive when I'm ensconced in my house trying to relax and unwind.  The actual night is bad enough, but when you have to put up with continual explosions for at least a week before and a week after (sometimes longer), it goes beyond the pale.  I think fireworks should, by law, only be allowed on November 5th between 6 and 7.30 pm.  Anyone setting them off before or after should be heavily fined (or, failing that, given a good kicking).  What's more, they should only go on sale three days before the 5th.

HALLOWE'EN's another one.  This October 31st, I sat in the house with the lights off to deter any kids and their parents coming to the door.  Not that I think they would, but I wasn't prepared to take any chances.  It's not just that I've got no time for kids as a rule (unless they're quiet, well-behaved children of friends), but I didn't want to be subjected to their disappointment if I'd been placed in the position of having to turn them away empty-handed.

What a miserable old git I've turned into, but I just can't help myself.  It's not really fair, considering how much I enjoyed Hallowe'en and Bonfire Night when I was a kid.  I've tried to analyse the reasons for this shift in my attitude to these two events, and here's what I've come up with.

Not being a kid or a parent, I've got no reason to participate in the celebrations in any way, so therefore find them an intrusive nuisance to my routine, to say nothing of my peace and quiet.  I'm also struck by the fact they remind me that my childhood effectively ended in the previous house to this one.  Not that I realised it back then, as the transition process of growing up appears seamless at the time, but, in retrospect, we tend to divide each phase of our lives into segments and view them as individual links in a chain (that have become separated), as opposed to the single unrolling ball of string that life once seemed to be.

It was in my previous house that I last went out on Hallowe'en;  it was in my previous home that I last celebrated Bonfire Night;  and it was in my previous abode that I last crept downstairs with my brother in the early hours of Christmas day to see what Santa had brought us.  My tentative conclusions are therefore that I'm angry and bitter at no longer being a child, in much the same way that the lead actor in a TV show feels when he realises he's gone as far in his role as he can, and that the new young supporting actor is getting much more attention and fan mail, and will soon supplant him as the main star of the show.  I'm sort of half-joking of course, but perhaps there's more truth in my imaginative assessment than I realise.

Any thoughts on the matter, Criv-ites?  Let rip in the comments section.

CAN YOU TRACK A SOUND, DOCTOR? NO...?

Y'know, I'm quite partial to the original motion picture soundtrack of the first JAMES BOND movie, Dr. NO.  Although I didn't acquire it 'til around 1973 or '74, it reminds me just as much of the '60s as it does the '70s, which you might think is no big deal considering when it was first released.  There's more to it than that however, and let me try and explain just what I think it is, in the unlikely event you might be remotely interested.

First of all, I was only a young teenager in the early '70s, and to me at least, the stylish differences between the two decades weren't all that obvious.  This was because there were still many '60s cars on the roads, and, certainly where adults were concerned, clothes fashions were pretty much the same.  My grandparents still dressed in clothes that could have come from the '30s to the '50s, and my parents' apparel was much as it had always been since as far back as I was capable of remembering.

Another aspect that helped dull the differences between the decades was the fact that, right up until the late '70s, the furniture in our house had graced our three previous homes since 1960, and mainly dated from the '50s (and perhaps even from before I was born).  As this was 'the norm' for me, my childhood and teenage years seemed to take place in an unchanging, ageless environment, where the dividing lines between the decades didn't really exist.  They might well have for others of course, but not to me.  (It would be interesting to know if my friends from the period considered my house [and room] decidedly old-fashioned, or accepted it as normal in the same way that I did.)

So, because the accoutrements of my bedroom in the '70s didn't reflect the style of the period, it was as if I operated in a timeless bubble that was immune to the changing fashions of the passing years.  I've probably overstated the case in order to make the point, but that's why, whenever I listen to that Dr. No soundtrack, I have a real sense of the '60s around me, and associate it as much with the decade it first appeared as the one in which I first heard it.

Is there something in your life that reminds you of an earlier time than the one in which you first acquired or experienced it, or do you think I'm merely babbling like a lunatic?  If the former, feel free to express yourself in the comments section.

(BOND) BABE Of The DAY - JULIE EGE...

It's lovely JULIE EGE, deciding

on her first task of the day.  Shower me

with kisses or make me a fry-up brekkie?

Which should she do first?  I'm easy, so

 I'll just leave it up to her.

SUPERMAN & BATMAN - POSTER BOYS...

Image copyright DC COMICS

I've shown this poster (which was one of three free gifts with SUPER DC #1) before, but this is a superior scan to the ones used previously (which I've now replaced with this one).  It's based on the CARMINE INFANTINO & MURPHY ANDERSON poster of BATMAN & ROBIN from the '60s, but is obviously nowhere near as good.  (I think it was drawn by MICK ANGLO, but couldn't swear to it.)  However, if you had this poster as a kid and longed to own it again, here's your opportunity.  All you need is a printer.  (Can't help you with that, alas.)

And in case you've never seen the Infantino/Anderson pin-up, that's it below (sans 'inscription') so that you can compare the two.

A DASH OF COLOUR, BATMAN?

Images copyright DC COMICS

I imagine that there were probably BATMAN colouring books in the '40s & '50s, but they really came to the fore in the '60s to cash-in on the TV series.  At least, that's how it seems to this old fart, but, surprisingly, I don't think there's been a decade that hasn't had a colouring book devoted to the DC COMICS character.  I don't have all of them, but I've got a couple from the '60s, a couple from the '80s (or maybe it's the '90s - I've tucked the books away again and can't check), and only last week, I saw the latest one in HOME BARGAINS and snapped it up.  (I have to say that it's worth buying if you see it, 'cos it's got some cracking pictures in it.)

The only one I actually owned back in the '60s is the ROBIN in the BATCAVE book, and the one you see here is a replacement I acquired probably more than 20 years ago.  I've shown the '60s books before (with some of the age wear digitally removed - this time they're mostly unretouched), but thought it worthwhile showing them again alongside their more contemporary companions.  (One is actually an Activity Book, but it contains many pages for colouring, so I decided it deserved to be included.)

So that's it, Bat-fans, enjoy the images on display and perhaps even relive part of your childhood in the process.  Coming next - the lost JACK KIRBY SPIDER-MAN pages.  (Nah, calm down, I'm only joking.  Your heart skipped a beat though, didn't it?  I like to keep you all on your toes.)

I've included the back covers of this and the next book as, although they have
the same image front and back, they're sans logo and would make nice pin-ups

The back covers of this and the next book are the exact same as
on the front (with logos), so there's no point in repeating them

TAKE A LOOK-IN At The BEEB...

Images copyright relevant owners

No one could (or would) deny that BEEB Magazine was anything other than a clone of LOOK-IN.  The wonder is that it took the BBC 14 years to get around to introducing their rival publication, at a time, ironically, when Look-In's circulation was steadily falling.  They should've taken that fact into consideration, because Beeb only lasted for a mere 20 issues before disappearing - with no announcement in its final number and without resolving any of the continued stories.

When Look-In first came out in 1971, I didn't buy it.  It wouldn't be until 1975 that I started picking it up on a regular basis, simply because there was something intoxicating about the great cover paintings by Italian artist ARNALDO PUTZU, who painted many movie posters in the '60s, including ones for the 'CARRY ON' series.  My interest in the mag was relatively short-lived, though I continued to buy the occasional issue over the years, depending on the contents.

In 1985, I was living in Shearer Road, Fratton (Portsmouth) when I spotted a new mag in a newsagent's one day.  It really wasn't the sort I was usually interested in, but because it reminded me of Look-In (and also because it was new) I bought the first issue.  By this time, I'd developed the habit of buying the first three issues of any new mag or comic, mainly because they were usually the free gift issues.  I never saw #2, but got #3, telling myself that I'd locate the missing 2nd issue before too long.

I was back home in Scotland before I ever got around to sending away for a back issue of the missing number, and I think it was quite a few years since the mag had been cancelled before I did, so I was unsurprisingly unsuccessful in my task.  Until yesterday that is, when it popped through my letterbox after I'd managed to secure a copy via eBay a few days before.  It's odd to see it next to my almost pristine, clean copies of issues 1 & 3, because it's got a few creases and it's not quite as 'smart'-looking as its companions.

However, I feel a sense of achievement.  It may've taken me over 32 years, but I've finally fulfilled my original intention of owning the first three numbers of this short-lived publication.  Will I succumb to temptation and attempt to track down the remaining 17 issues?  Nah!  Despite some nice art, there was too much of a focus on pop music for my tastes, so I'll be giving the rest of the run a miss.  It's enough that I've finally got the first three after all this time, so they'll do for me.

Anyway, here are some pages from my trio of Beeb mags, so that you can see the cut of its jib.  Did you buy the title back in the day?  Feel free to share your views in the comments section.   

SUPER DC - IT'S A DATE...

Well, who'da thunk it?  I was right!  Browsing through an auction site (I'll be bidding on one or two items), I see that the free gifts (there were three) from issue #1 of SUPER DC are on offer.  One of the gifts was a 'wristwatch calendar' (three adhesive labels) bearing the dates of October and November of 1969, and January 1970.  In a previous post a couple of years back, I wondered why the comic had been copyright-dated 1969 and priced one shilling, when the free gift in my copy had borne the dates of 1970 and '71.  I knew I'd bought my original copy in 1970 because I was at secondary school when it went on sale, which I didn't start attending until that particular year, so I knew I wasn't wrong on that score.  I wondered whether the comic had perhaps gone on sale in England first, before being rolled out across the rest of the country a year later.  Well, thanks to Phil's Auctions, I now know that I was spot-on with that little speculation.  Below is my original post for your contemplative perusal.

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SUPER DC - HISTORY Or MYSTERY...?

SUPERMAN and related characters copyright DC COMICS

I've read that SUPER DC came out in June 1969 and lasted to July of 1970.  That may be true (in some parts of the country anyway), but it's not the whole story.  When I bought issue #1, one of the trio of free gifts was a 'wristwatch calendar', consisting of three adhesive strips (one month on each) to be applied to the strap of one's watch.  The months on my calendar labels were that of November and December 1970, and January 1971.  Not that they were any good to me, because I didn't wear a watch then, nor do I wear a watch now.  However, this fact tends to indicate that, at least in Scotland, the first issue didn't go on sale until September or October of '70 at the earliest.

So what's the scoop?  You're asking me?  I can only speculate, but here's what may have happened.  The comics were tried out in England first, and unsold copies were then distributed to the rest of the U.K. at a later date.  This would explain why all 14 issues bore the price of 1/- (one shilling) even after decimalisation on February 15th 1971.  In some (but not all) cases, issues on sale after this date had a 5p sticker covering  the old price.  Or perhaps there was some kind of nationwide delay between publishing and distribution, and the main reason that people think the comic came out in 1969 is because of the price and the copyright date in the indicia.

There's evidence to suggest that issue #1 (at least) was reprinted, as the indicia is different in two copies I have in my collection.  Take a look at page 39 (above) and spot the difference between both versions.  I suppose this could perhaps merely be as a result of the NATIONAL PERIODICAL PUBLICATIONS copyright attribution being added during a pause in the print run when it was noticed it was missing, but that wouldn't explain why the comics are also slightly different sizes.  So it's anyone's guess as to the true history of this U.K. reprint monthly, published by TOP SELLERS and edited by MICK ANGLO (who also illustrated some covers and text stories).  If you think you can help clear up this minor mystery, feel free to chip in your two cents (or pence) worth in the comments section.

******

The above post was published on July 7th 2015, and it's good to finally know the answer.  One mystery yet remains though.  Was it unsold stock that was later released in other parts of the country, or were the issues reprinted with no amendments to the date and price?  The fact that I now have three copies of number one (got another one a while back), with the size and copyright indicia of one of them being slightly different, seems to suggest such a scenario as a distinct possibility - at least as far as the first issue goes anyway.  

REMEMBER WHEN DAYS WERE LONGER? And, ONCE AGAIN, The HORROR Of The HOUSE On HAUNTED HILL...

It's a wet and windy Autumn day outside, as the rain runs down my window and leaves swirl past as if they need to be somewhere in a hurry.  I almost feel like I should be preparing to brave the elements whilst getting ready for school, so evocative is it of days of long ago when such weather was something to be enjoyed (if you were ten years old) rather than cower from like a big feartie.

I can smell that 'woody' tang in the air, with hints of fireworks and Hallowe'en, and find myself wondering why, when I was younger, All Hallow's Eve and Guy Fawkes' Night seemed separated by a period of several weeks instead of the actual five days that exist between them.  I can remember, in school, as the night of October 31st approached, the afternoon being given over to making masks for the big event to come.  Then it would all happen again for November 5th, and I defy anyone to cast their minds back without seeming to 'remember' these two celebrations as being separated by a far longer period of time than they actually were.

I've often wondered how such a thing can be so.  If October 31st fell on a Monday, mask-making day would have been on Friday the 28th.  That means Guy Fawkes Night would have been on the following Saturday, and mask-making day would have occurred on Friday the 4th - a whole week later with a Saturday and Sunday in between.  Well, weekends obviously seemed far longer to us as kids back then than they do now, but not all mask-making afternoons were partitioned by a full weekend, so the seemingly elongated interval between the two events is not fully accounted for by such an explanation.

We'll just have to put it down to that same mysterious phenomenon which makes all our yesterdays, in retrospect, seem better, brighter and longer than they really were.  Don't we all feel that the summers of our childhoods were gloriously sunny for months on end, and that every Christmas morn we woke to find a deep carpet of snow spread before us beyond our bedroom windows?

I doubt I'm alone in preferring to recall some things as they seemed to be, as opposed to how they actually were.  ("I think, therefore it was" - as someone surely must have said.)

Anyway, seeing as how it's Hallowe'en tonight, I thought I'd dust down and share this old-but-true tale with all you Criv-ites to put you in the mood.  Are you alone?  Are you sure you're alone?  Perhaps you'd better check first before we proceed.  Ready?  Good, then I'll begin.

Art by STEVE DITKO, copyright MARVEL COMICS

Not long after my family had moved into our new house back in 1972, a curious thing happened.  My brother came downstairs into the living-room one night and claimed he'd just seen an elderly lady in white on the stairway outside his room.  My parents pooh-poohed the notion, but, shortly after, my bed was moved from my front room on the grounds that it was damp (the room, not the bed) into my brother's room, which we then shared for a few months (again, the room, not the bed).  I suspect it was more to do with my brother being scared to be alone than it was with the risk of me catching pneumonia, but I grant it could've been a combination of both.

Some indeterminate time afterwards (a year or two perhaps), my brother again came into the living-room with a concerned look on his face and called us upstairs, saying that someone was walking around in the attic.  We all trooped up to my brother's room and, sure enough, there was a sound of creaking boards - as if someone was walking from one end of the attic and back again.  My father got out the stepladder and tentatively poked the top of his head a few inches into the hatch opening, but he was in no mad rush (nor were we) to more thoroughly explore the vast confines of its black interiors, so we put the noise down to some not entirely convincing 'rational' explanation and retired downstairs again.  

Some years later, we moved house, and four years after that, we moved back again - with the exception of my brother, who'd acquired his own flat in the meantime.  Now, I don't believe in ghosts, but the couple with whom we exchanged houses in order to return to our former abode, told me that one night while lying in bed, a ghostly apparition had drifted through the wall from my brother's old room into theirs, then floated right over their bed and melted through the window on the other side.  They were a young couple and a bit flaky, so I put their 'experience' down to having partaken of a combination of too much alcohol and weed.

But here's where it gets strange (as you doubtless anticipated).  A few years after having moved back, I was lying in my bed one night in the small hours when I suddenly became aware of a wizened old woman in white shuffling towards my bedside.  She stopped and stooped, lowering her crinkled face towards mine as if scrutinizing it intently.  For a moment I was paralysed, but then, with a growl, I sat bolt upright in bed to confront the ancient figure, who immediately retreated (still facing me) into the far corner of the room before fading into nothingness.

I sat stunned for a moment, not quite sure what had happened.  Had I seen a ghost, the very one my brother had claimed to have seen so many years before?  Or had I only been dreaming and suddenly awoken - with the figure in my dream somehow still visible before me, like some swiftly-diminishing after-image?

Who can say for sure?  I still don't believe in ghosts, but that was certainly a moment which gave me pause for thought.  Anyone else got any similar experiences?  Feel free to share.