GREAT NEWS INSIDE, PALS! (YEAH, RIGHT!)...

Images copyright relevant owner

I showed the above cover a few posts back, but cop a gander at the interior page below.  Out of the five titles listed, four of them are combined issues, while TIGER is the only one which remains un-merged.  Nowadays, publishers would love to have even half the sales that these comics had back then, but at the time, the circulation wasn't considered high enough to continue the subsumed weeklies as individual titles.  Makes you think, eh?  

BABE Of The DAY - DON'T ASK ME WHO...

Here's today's 'Babe', fellas.  I can't tell you

her name 'cos I never asked her for it.  Well, do

you blame me?  She never asked for mine.

RUMINATING REPOST: TO SLEEP, PERCHANCE TO DIE...

When you're young, you have absolutely no concept of never having existed.  On an intellectual level (if you ever felt disposed to consider the matter), you know there was a time when you weren't around, but you can't truly conceive what it was like because non-existence is a difficult if not impossible state to imagine.

Think of any period in mankind's history from before you were born; the Old West, the Victorian Era, the 1920s or '30s - whatever.  Even though you never experienced them, you almost feel as if you have, thanks to history books, old photographs, artists' impressions, TV shows, historical fiction, movies, etc.  And because you can't remember your beginning, it seems as if you never actually had one and that you've been around forever.  At least, that's what it seems like to me.

Consequently, when I was a teenager of 14, I subconsciously laboured under the impression that I had always been.  (Though the same perception also applies to any point in my childhood from when I first became aware of my surroundings.)  It's unlikely that I was alone in that regard, and it's surely the same for 14 year-olds today.  It's only because fourteen years to someone of my age passes so quickly that I finally realized just how inconsequential such a period of time actually is.  I've got things lying around the house which have never been out of the wrappers since I bought them that are older than that.

As you inexorably inch closer to that time when the condition of non-existence threatens to once again engulf you, it's a prospect you tend to contemplate more than you did (if at all) in your younger days.  Finally, you begin to be able to nearly catch a glimmer of what extinction might be like, and the prospect isn't a pleasant one.  I recall waking up in hospital one day after a procedure which required my unconsciousness, and was alarmed to find I had no recollection of even a half-sleep-like state between being knocked out and coming to.

As I said, no half-remembered thoughts, vague dreams, or hovering on the edge of awareness to connect me to my pre-anaesthetised self - only an absolute absence of even the slightest sense of continuity between the two conditions.  It was then that I realised what oblivion must be like.  It was as if I'd been dead for however many hours I'd been out, and, although my body was still functioning, as far as my mind was concerned, there was no discernible difference between death and unconsciousness.

So, death is not merely a case of not waking up, it's also not even being aware of going to sleep or being asleep at any stage in the process.  Shakespeare was wrong; there are no dreams in the sleep of death, only a blackness and silence from which we never awaken - an eternal nothingness, an everlasting night.

That's no doubt why I often find myself wishing I was only 14 again.  The illusion of no beginning (and, by extension, no ending), while temporary, is a comforting and necessary notion, otherwise we'd probably abandon our journey before we were very far into it.  After all, what's the point of taking a road to nowhere?

Come to think of it, I wouldn't even mind being half that age.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work on that elixir of life I'm developing.  I just can't afford to relax if I want to be here in 2118.

******

We are but older children, dear,

Who fret to find our bedtime near.

Lewis Carroll.

BUSTER GETS A 'ROCKET' FOR HANDLING FIREWORKS...

Image copyright relevant owner

Here's an evocative firework image for tonight, but be sure not to copy what BUSTER and his pal are doing above (handling fireworks and setting them off in close proximity to others) as someone is likely to get badly hurt if they imitate their hijinks.  This comic was pulled at the last moment because of the cover (a few got through), which shows that the possibility of comics setting a bad example for kids (even inadvertently) is a reality recognised by publishers, not a figment of the imagination of readers like myself.  It always amazes me when people who claim that comics can have a positive effect on readers (and they can) then deny the possibility of the reverse being equally as true.  Logic dictates otherwise.

PENNY FOR THE GUY? SURE - IF THAT GUY'S BUSTER...

Copyright REBELLION

BUSTER had several good artists in his time, but possibly the best remembered (to those of a certain age) is the late ANGEL NADAL, who drew the strip from 1962 to '74.  (REG PARLETT took over when COR!! was merged into the comic.)  This particular page is from an issue dated October 29th 1966, and is relevant because it's all about 'Firework Night'.  (Or 'Bonfire Night' or 'Guy Fawkes Night', or whatever it's called these days.)  This is scanned, panel-by-panel, from the original art, which I own - and very glad am I to have it to be sure.  (And it's not for sale.)

Thanks to PHILIP CRAWLEY for alerting me to where I could find an image of the published page (www.bustercomic.co.uk), but I've now replaced it with a scan from my very own, newly-acquired copy.

TIME For An AMAZING TALE In A CREEPY WORLD - And IRON MAN And CLEOPATRA Are ALONG For The RIDE...

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS

The year?  I can no longer recall with any certainty - probably 1968 or '69.  A girl in my class by the name of Lynne Speed took a fancy to a little notebook my father had given me and swapped me the above comic for it.  We swapped back a few days later when guilt at so callously parting with the book began to nag at my conscience.  However, I've told that story before and it's not the point of this post.

I only had the comic for a few days at most.  I'd already read the tale in an issue of FANTASTIC, but that comic hadn't used the cover art, and there was just something about that great JACK KIRBY illo that grabbed me.  I've just re-acquired the comic tonight, and it strikes me that, even if I live for another 30 or 40 years and keep the comic for that length of time, it won't seem anywhere near as long as the few days I temporarily had that first copy back in the '60s.

It's not as though I even need it, as I have the original ish of TALES Of SUSPENSE which the story came from, plus numerous reprints.  Yet I saw it in an auction and it called out to me, and memories of my old playground and school, demolished a few years back, were resurrected in the recesses of my mind.  So I bid on it and won, and soon it will join all the other clones of my childhood comics and toys, and I'll feel reunited with my past - even if only for a short time.

Just think though; as I said, when I've owned this comic for a week or two, that'll be a longer period of time than I had it the first time, which is something I find amazing.  I often look at replacement items I've owned for many, many years longer than I ever had the originals, and wonder where the time went.  It's ironic that this IRON MAN adventure involves time travel, because just looking at it takes me back in time over 50 years.

Anyway, here's hoping I've got at least another 50 years ahead of me.  That would be nice, however unlikely the prospect may be.

******

Incidentally, that Cleopatra gets around!  As well as meeting Iron Man, she also met DOCTOR STRANGE.  Bit of a MARVEL 'groupie' if you ask me.  (And I'm surprised that ALAN CLASS didn't spot the misspelling of 'Pharaoh' and correct it.  Tsk, tsk!)

'BOT OF THE DAY - TOMY...

'Bot as in abbreviation of Robot obviously.  I had this little fella when I was a kid, and managed to obtain a replacement a few years back, box and all.  This one I got recently, no box, no key (update: managed to acquire a key), but otherwise fully functional.  (So now I've got two.)  For some reason I once thought it was manufactured by MARX TOYS, but no - it's by TOMY.  The arms used to remind me slightly of B-9 from LOST In SPACE - still do in fact, but that's where any resemblance ends.  Any of you Criv-ites have one of this little chap's pals when you were young?  Do tell.

(Incidentally, I carefully removed that little piece of 'flocking' on top of his right arm.  Couldn't have him looking anything less than perfect.)

MIGHTY MARVEL CHECKLIST - ON SALE NOW!!!

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS.  Published by PANINI

WOLVERINE & DEADPOOL #11

100 pages of claw-popping action!  Three awesome adventures!

A new story begins!  Deadpool meets Old Man Logan and tries to give him a helping hand - but a team-up with Deadpool can look an awful lot like a fight to the death!  By Declan Shalvey & Mike Henderson!

Wolverine and her family are being hunted by the Orphans of X - and they now have a weapon that can kill mutants with healing factors!  By Tom Taylor & Juann Caball!

Old Man Logan has found his former love Mariko Yashida, but the deadly Gorgon wants to make it a very brief reunion!  By Ed Brisson & Ibraim Roberson!

Featuring material first published in Deadpool vs Old Man Logan #1-3, All-New Wolverine #28, and Old Man Logan #35.

On Sale 1st November.

£4.50.

AVENGERS UNIVERSE #12

100 pages of Earth's Mightiest Heroes!  Three great stories!

A new epic adventure begins as the Avengers join forces with the Champions!  Don't miss the earth-shattering 'Worlds Collide' by Mark Waid, Jesus Saiz, Humberto Ramos, Javier Pino & Paco Diaz!

The Human Torch has inherited the legacy of the Fantastic Four - but he doesn't want it!  Meanwhile, Doctor Voodoo attempts to rebuild Avengers Mansion, with shocking results!  By Jim Zub & Sean Izaakse!

A classic piece of Avengers history!  The original Avengers step aside and welcome the second generation:  Hawkeye, Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch!  By Stan Lee & Jack Kirby!

Featuring material originally published in Avengers #672-673, Champions #13, Uncanny Avengers #28, and Avengers (vol 1) #16.

On sale 1st November.

£4.50.

HAPPY HALLOWE'EN...

When I was a kid, I had a cardboard YOGI BEAR Hallowe'en mask.  It wasn't a flat mask, but a shaped mask of the front half of Yogi's head and collar.  I bought another one a couple of years (and a couple of houses) later, from WOOLWORTH'S, the same shop I'd bought the first one, and it goes without saying that I'd love to own one again*.  (Bought a plastic Yogi mask a year or so back, but it's one from the '90s.)

*Update: Now got one.

That's not me in the above photo (got it from eBay), but if I'd had such a costume when I was a lad, you can bet your boots that I'd have been out on October 31st wearing it proudly.  (I didn't seem to have an 'embarrassment factor' when I was a youngster.)  Anyway, have a great Hallowe'en if you're attending any costume parties later.  Who knows, if you're single and meet someone nice, you may end up a little bear (as in 'bare' - geddit?) at the end of the night.

(Groan!  Well, I had to tie it in with the photo somehow.)

The COMICS ROOM - (Updated)

Consider yourself a comics fan?  Well, check out this collection - it makes most of us look like pikers.  It would take serious money to acquire the items on display in this room, but I couldn't say whether it's a private collection or belongs to a museum. One thing I do know - I'm seriously envious!  How about you?

CRIVENS CLASSIC COMIC COVERS - POW! #10...

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS

Memory is a funny thing, isn't it?  I know I read a SPIDER-MAN story (his first encounter with The CHAMELEON) in an earlier issue of POW! at school one day (brought in by a classmate) but it may not have been until after I'd acquired this issue, which would make this comic the first time I'd seen Spidey.

If that's the case, it was doubtless the diabolical DOCTOR DOOM's mention of The FANTASTIC FOUR which made me peruse through the periodical's pages in the newsagent's and, seeing SUSAN STORM (on whom I had a crush), prompted me to ask my mother to buy it for me.  Or, of course, I may just have read them in their published sequence, and old age now prevents me from being able to recall with certainty.

Regardless, we were calling in to my grandparents' flat that day (which means it was either after school or on a Saturday), and this was another issue that I read while perched on their itchy red bed-settee (see, some things I don't forget), of which regular readers may remember me mentioning several times before.

However, you don't care about any of the personal details I associate with this comic (you'll no doubt have your own), all you're here for is to gawp at this great STEVE DITKO illustration, and his interpretation of the good ol', bad ol' Monarch of LATVERIA.  (Why do I always think of the word 'Lavatory' when I see the name of VICTOR's homeland?)

Anyway, I just love this cover and thought that perhaps you might too.  If so, feel free to recount your own ruminating reminiscences of this collectors' item classic in our captivating comments section.

BABE Of The DAY - DUNNO, WHO CARES ANYWAY? JUST LOOK AT THOSE PINS!

Why is it, whenever I return home,

there's some hot burd waiting on my door-

step?  Here's another one.  My reputation as

a red-hot lover has obviously got around.

 ("Nurse!  He's hallucinating again!")

TIME Is In The EYE Of The BEHOLDER...

Image copyright relevant owner

Take a look at the comic pictured above - I remember buying it back in 1971 (my original copy that is), probably on the 25th September, as comics were usually dated a week ahead of when they actually went on sale.  (It's difficult to be certain in every instance - sometimes it was just a few days.)  I'd religiously bought all 22 issues of JET and wished it had lasted longer, but I was prepared to follow its incorporated incarnation in BUSTER - at least for a while.

I no longer recall how long I continued to buy the merged title, but as I said, I remember having the first one.  I'm surprised by the date, because only eight months later, my family (and myself of course) moved to another house in another neighbourhood.  Only eight short months?  Surely it was a year or three at the very least?  But no - eight short months it was!  A year and five days after this comic came out, I was buying the first issue of The MIGHTY WORLD Of MARVEL, yet it seems to me that there was a huge gulf of time between the two comics, not a mere year.

I'm constantly surprised by such things.  Another example is the first ish of TV ACTION (in reality COUNTDOWN #59), which came out only a couple of months before we moved.  Yet, in my mind, it seems I bought it ages earlier, and enjoyed life in that house for ever such a long time before we flitted.  I've touched on this subject in previous posts, and suggested it's because we tend to associate things (whether they be toys, comics, or whatever) that we had in one domicile with the entire time we lived there, rather than from the actual moment we first got them.

In other words, if you lived somewhere for seven years and bought something a couple of months before flitting, years later (when reminiscing) it often seems that you had the item for the full seven years, because you associate it with that particular house and the length of time you were there.  Or maybe it's just because when we're younger, a few weeks or months seems like a much longer period of time than when we're older.  After all, a month before Christmas to a kid feels like an eternity, whereas, to an adult, it passes far too quickly.

At least that's how it seems to me.  Perhaps you think I'm talking utter b*ll*cks, so I'd be interested in reading how my fellow Criv-ites regard such matters.  Does it likewise seem to you as I described, or, in your case, is it completely different?  Let rip in the comments section - if you can actually understand what the hell I'm burbling on about.  I have a feeling I've not conveyed it too well.

CALLING ALL GERRY ANDERSON FANS...

If you're a doddery old fart like me, you'll well remember the great GERRY ANDERSON puppet programmes of the '60s.  Here's the latest, based on an idea by Gerry himself and developed and written by his son JAMIE (with the help of others obviously).  It'll make you feel like you're a kid again.

A VANISHED AGE...

I thought I'd first published this post on Crivens! then transferred it to my other blog, but I can find no trace of it here.  Therefore, since most of you don't read Mild And Mellow Melancholy Musings, here it is especially for you.  And if you did read it on MMMM, feel free to ignore.

******

The ageing process is a curious thing, in that its effects are gradual and don't usually register with us until they've gathered a fair bit of steam.  This applies not only to ourselves, but also our possessions.  Take my bedroom walls for example, or to be more precise, the posters, pin-ups, pages and pictures which adorn them (and are somewhat obscured in the accompanying photo by some of my collectables).

Most have now been in place for at least 30 years (though some go back nearly 40), but it's only in the last couple of years or so that it began to dawn on me just how faded, tanned, and wrinkled many had become, prompting me to begin the time-consuming task of replacing them with brighter, newer, and more colourful duplicates.  I've now renewed around 80 of them, and my room looks all the better for it, but it occurs to me that I'm living in a 'vanished age' which I've preserved by means of a scanner and printer.

Some were replicated by scanning the originals and digitally restoring them, others by scanning spare issues of the comics they came from - some purchased at the same time as the originals, others a few years afterwards (and a good many years ago).  Truth to tell, many of the wall pics had probably begun to look old quite a while back, but it wasn't until they became noticeably mottled that I realised time had taken its toll and decided to do something about it.  However, when younger, I'd probably have just replaced them with new (and different) posters and pin-ups, so why indulge this odd compulsion to preserve things the way they were?

I think I know the answer.  As regular readers may be aware, my family originally lived here (in the house I currently occupy) from 1972 to '83, whereupon we moved to another house in a different neighbourhood and resided there for just over four years before returning to our former home.  Not wanting to move from this house back in '83, I felt like one who'd been "from the room untimely ripped" (to misquote Shakespeare) and this made me want to re-create (as much as possible given the different dimensions of my new room), the ambience of my old one.

Had we never moved, this desire to replicate my former surroundings would likely never have occurred to me and, as I said, I'd probably have replaced time-worn pictures with new and different ones when the occasion required.  The irony is though, that even if we'd never moved, my room couldn't have remained the same anyway, as I'd have had to remove my 'wall adornments' to accommodate renovation and refurbishment to the house a mere year or three down the line.  (Thankfully, we were spared that inconvenience.)

This would've meant being decanted to a caravan for a fortnight (with furniture and possessions put into storage) while the house was gutted of original fixtures and fittings, then rewired, re-plumbed and, where necessary, re-plastered.  (New wall sockets and light switches were installed, but not in exactly the same spots, hence remedial work being required on the walls.)  Upon completion, the entire house would've needed redecorated, and as some of my old pictures were glued to the wallpaper, I'd more than likely have just put up new ones.  However, not happy at moving, my reluctance to abandon the warm familiarity of my former surroundings inspired me to try and re-create them in my new room, and again in my old one when we returned.

I've never managed to shake that compulsion, so now sleep in a room that's largely the same as it was between 1975 and 1983, resulting in me living in a bygone age that vanished into the mists of time 35 years ago.  I can only conclude that moving to another house in '83 was a traumatic experience for me, and one which affects my outlook even to this very day.  Or it could be that I'm just bonkers I suppose, but if you agree with that diagnosis, I'd much prefer you kept it to yourselves.  After all, you know what a timid, sensitive soul I am, so there's no need to be cruel.

Thoughts, theories, observations or empathy can be left in the considerately-provided comments section if you feel so motivated.   

The FORTY-ODD YEARS LATER AFFAIR...

Images copyright relevant owner

Y'know, it might sometimes take me forever to get around to things, but I eventually get there in the end.  Take DC's BEOWULF and TOR comics as an example.  I remember buying at least the first issues of each title back in the mid-'70s, but regardless of however many issues I bought of both series, I'm reasonably sure I never had all six in each set.  Some years back, I bought #s 1-3 of Beowulf and #1 of Tor, and it's only now that I've finally acquired the remaining issues I needed to complete my collection of those two titles.  A staggering 40-odd years after the fact, I can finally catch up on what I missed as a teenager.  Hopefully it'll be worth the wait.

GIVE ME LAND, LOTS OF LAND, UNDER STARRY SKIES ABOVE - DON'T FENCE ME IN...

Where I live, I used to be able to stand at the top of the hill along a bit from my house and see for miles.  The view remained practically unchanged from when I first moved here (1972) until around 1993/'94, when some two-storey amenity housing was built on a nearby bit of 'spare' ground.  Then, around a  year or so back, some flats (and houses) were built behind them on the site where a single-storey school for handicapped kids once stood, which was demolished a couple or so years back.  This has resulted in the almost complete obscuration of the distant horizon that for many years had once been so familiar to me from the days of my youth.  The same thing happened just recently in the street where I'd lived from 1965 to '72; what was once an expansive view has disappeared behind a sea of new roofs on houses that were erected around two or three years ago.  (The photo above is how the street looked in 1988, the bottom photo is how it looks nowadays.) 

Now, I know that people need to live somewhere, but this narrowing of horizons due to constant building affects everybody.  For example, there are now more kids living in those new houses, but as the houses are built on former playing fields, there are fewer places for that greater number of kids to play, which is hardly an ideal situation.  What were once bright, open and spacious areas where one could see distant hills and skies above and beyond them are now dark, closed and narrow housing schemes behind which the wider world is hidden from view.  I don't think it's a good thing for people to feel closed in and cut off by their own claustrophobic environs; the sight of fields, forests or clouds in the distance can be an uplifting experience which makes the spirits soar and improves the quality of life for everyone.

With more houses also comes more traffic as every household seems to have at least two cars these days.  Pedestrians can hardly walk on the pavements because of vehicles parked on them, leaving little space to manoeuvre, and none at all to anyone pushing a pram or confined to a wheelchair or mobility scooter.  Round my way, drivers regularly park up on the pavements, despite there being plenty of road room for other cars to pass them without collision.  One neighbour recently parked on the entire pavement in front of steps leading to some houses, meaning that any pensioners with poor eyesight and unsteady of foot could well have had an accident attempting to negotiate the obstacle.  Personally, in older areas which were built when car ownership was less common, I'd have a limit of one car per household - take a bus or taxi if that doesn't work for you and leave the pavements to pedestrians.

I could nip your ear for hours with a long list of why I think the world is shrinking and closing in on us, but I'll spare you that ordeal.  Suffice to say, there are just far too many humans on the planet nowadays and if there's one species that needs culled, it's ours.  In our feckless society, where marriage and commitment are on the decline, people move from one failed relationship to another, having children with multiple partners and putting a severe strain on resources like housing and the NHS.  Far too many parents these days have got several kids by three or four different partners, and all these children are going to need houses when they grow up.  Personally, I'd put something in the water supply to prevent people being able to have kids in the willy-nilly (no pun intended) way they do nowadays.  Then, if you wanted to start a family, you'd have to sit a test to determine your suitability, before being given the antidote to what's in the water.

Okay, maybe I'm stretching things too far, but what would your solution be to crammed housing schemes and the gradual (but quickening) loss of green areas within and without town and cities, which will invariably lead to even more congested and depressing living conditions for future generations?  Do tell.

Click to enlarge.  Can you honestly say it's an improvement?

BABE Of The DAY - RAQUEL WELCH...

Here's ravishing RAQUEL WELCH,

looking ultra-sultry in the skimpiest of bear

skins.  (Sure must've been a small bear.)

PARTING IS SUCH SWEET SORROW...

Here's a strange story for you, one that I suddenly just remembered while looking at the photo in the previous post.  I'll say why in a moment, but the tale I'm thinking of dates back to 1964 or '65, when I was going home for my dinner at noon one day, and saw a 'rag and bone' man parked outside the primary school gates.  No horse and cart like STEPTOE & SON, but a blue or grey van with the back doors swung open to display his wares.  I enquired how long he was going to be there and he replied that he'd be 'on site' for the whole dinner hour.  So I ran home, had my grub, and asked my mother whether she had anything she didn't want that I could give to the rag and bone man.  Usually, all you got was a balloon on a stick, so they were actually not so much rag and bone men as 'con the kids out of stuff that's worth money' men, but my mother gave me one of her old coats to swap for a balloon.

It was a blue coat if I recall rightly, and off I set to school with it, but a funny thing happened on the way to the cruel place of confinement that tortures children with enforced learning that they neither want or need.  (Am I showing a prejudice here?)  I started to feel sorry for the coat, and shame at my cold and callous attitude in being prepared to part with it.  I'd once felt like this before when a toy metal bus I owned suddenly separated in two because of a loose rivet.  I flung the bus on the grass and walked away, but was then overcome with a sudden remorse and rushed back and reclaimed it.  I felt like a parent abandoning a child, and the feeling was too much to bear.  It was the same with this coat - I simply couldn't give away a 'member of the family' to a stranger, so it sat under my desk until 3 o'clock and then I took it back home with me.

So cut to a few years later and another house or two down the line.  I heard a rag and bone man blowing his horn and rushed to ask if my mother had anything she didn't want.  I think it was another coat (maybe even the same one), so I ran out of the house just in time to see the van driving away.  I followed it on foot as best as I could - for quite a length in fact, but it got away from me.  If you look at the photo in the previous post, you'll see a bus stop in the distance, and it was around there or just past it that I gave up the chase.  (Bear in mind that the photo was taken from my bedroom window and you'll realise just how far it was I trekked.)  As I trudged back along the road, I felt a sudden sense of relief, as I realised that, once again, I wouldn't have been able to part with the item of clothing my mother had given me anyway, so I wasn't too downhearted.

Even today, I find it extremely difficult to part with things because it feels almost like I'm rejecting them, and that's not something I want to be responsible for inflicting even on inanimate objects.  Who knows what deep-rooted psychological reasons are responsible for me being this way.  Maybe the time my dad took me for a run in the car miles out of town, gave me money and asked me to go buy a newspaper, and then drove off as I entered the shop - well, maybe that has something to do with it, who knows?  (Pick your jaw up off the floor, you gullible ninnies - I'm only kidding of course.)  Being a collector, I sometimes replace comics with better-condition ones, but it's extremely difficult passing on (or selling) the lesser-condition items to someone else, and I can only do it (and even then reluctantly) if I haven't had it too long.

So readers - do you have any strange peccadilloes that you don't quite understand, but feel yourself in thrall to and are unable to resist?  If you'd care to share, you know where the comments section is.   

ROOM WITH A VIEW...

Something that occurred to me only recently is that when I was younger, I only ever looked out any of my windows for one specific purpose or another, never merely for the sake of it.  Things like, to see which of the neighbourhood kids were playing in the field across from my house, or to check what the weather was like, or to catch the approach of someone I was expecting a visit from, or to see what the source of some noise was.  I never, as far as I can recall, looked out of the window just to appreciate the view.  At school, I would gaze out of the windows and lose myself in dreams, but I wasn't really focussing on the scenery.

And now, having typed that, a couple of exceptions have just occurred to me.  I'd look out at freshly-fallen snow, because there's something magical about snow I'm sure you'll agree, and sometimes at night, me and my brother used to look out of our bedroom window at the lights of Glasgow (or its outskirts), twinkling on the far horizon like tiny, dancing fireflies or the glint of frost on the pavement when it catches the sun or the beam of a street-lamp.  I last saw that night-time scene over 46 years ago, though I've seen the view in daytime on occasional visits to my old home - the first of which was 30 years ago, and the last 27 years back.

I first became aware of looking at the view for its own sake during the countdown to my family (and myself) flitting from my present house to a new one back in 1983.  For some reason it filled me with sadness to realise, as I gazed out into the familiar distance one evening, that I'd probably never see twilight again from that bedroom window and that an era was passing.  (Melodramatic? Me?)  Of course, as many of you will know, just over four years later, we moved back to this house, and I was reunited with my old room and the former view from its window.  Strangely, although I'd never wanted to flit to that new house, I now find myself even missing that view, and I'm glad I took quite a few photos of it in the four-plus years we resided there.

Views can change however, as mine has to a certain extent, what with new houses and flats being built on 'spare' ground.  Of course, it was never spare (or 'underdeveloped' as the local council later categorised it), it was intended for recreational use, and to alleviate the monotony of the brick and roughcast-bedecked structures surrounding it; to provide a welcome oasis of greenery amidst the grey 'sentinels' which stood on its borders, and to provide a sense of space in what has now become an overcrowded concrete ghetto.

Do you ever think back to once familiar views you knew in your youth, readers, and wish you could return and see them again, even though you know that the harsh reality of time and so-called 'progress' consigned them to the phantom mists of history long ago?  Feel free to relive those bitter-sweet memories in the comments section.

******

(Incidentally, the above photo was taken in August 1988, 16 years after moving away in 1972, and a year and a day after returning to the house we'd flitted to in '72 and vacated in '83.)

BABE Of The DAY - LYNDA CARTER...

If aliens ever visited Earth and asked to

see a prime example of a human female, I'd

show them this photo of the stunning Lynda

Carter.  Well, you just can't go wrong with

 Lynda, eh?  She's a wonder!

From PANEL To PAINTING...

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS

Red is my favourite colour, so it should come as no surprise that the above cover really grabbed me when I saw it in the shop window of W. & R. HOLMES back in late 1972.  Of course, it's not just the colour that appeals to me, but also the fact that it's The HULK doing what ol' Hulkie does best - going on a rampage!  I don't know who the artist is on the cover of the MARVEL Annual for 1973, but I can tell you that the scene is based on a panel from one of the interior stories, pencilled by JACK KIRBY and inked by STEVE DITKO.  Isn't it a stoater?!

However, this wouldn't be a Crivens! post without a critical observation or two.  In the original panel, Jack hasn't drawn The Hulk large enough as he looks smaller than the soldiers, and the cover artist has repeated this oversight in his rendition of the scene.  Still great though.