Knightmare, Labyrinth & Fighting Fantasy: A Retrospective on 80s Nostalgia
If you look back through your life, you'll quickly realise that certain selected memories have a power that seems to go beyond mere nostalgia. So many of those memories will involve things that have had a huge influence on who you are and the way in which you view the world. When I look back on my own childhood, it's very obvious to me that I felt different from other kids my age: not necessarily worse than everyone else and certainly not better, but in a very real sense...apart.
I Told You To Watch Them
I’m at Center Parcs in Woburn Forest, and I’m in Smug Parent mode.
I always get like this on those rare occasions when my kids are behaving like angels while everyone else’s are wrecking the place. Although we’ve only been on-site for an hour and they’re practically bursting with excitement about us all being on holiday in such an incredible place, Sebastian and Evie are acting like proper little grown-ups.
We’re in the play area next to the supermarket, and I’m watching two boys of Bast’s age trying to push each other off the slide while my little hero helps his tiny sister onto the wooden climbing frame. I glance over at the boys' parents – who aren’t really paying attention to them –and I shake my head sadly: this is why kids act up - a lack of attention.
He’s Just Not That Into You
When I finally decided that my dog had some sort of mental health issue, I didn’t mess around. I immediately splashed the cash and called in the professional: a £ 50-per-day dog whisperer called Anita who lived on the borders of Kent and claimed to offer a life-changing service for pets AND their owners. This is the email I sent her:
Dear Anita
I’m worried about my dog. Could you please come out to my house for one day (at your usual rate) and give me a diagnosis on him? His name is Jake, he’s two years old, and he has a lot of other dogs as parents: we think he’s part spaniel, part labrador, part whippet and part terrier. Here is the list of things I’m worried about:
1. He looks at me as if he hates me (can you tell if he does by talking to him?)
2. He looks at my wife the same way.
3. He doesn’t get excited by ANYTHING except other people. Even when I feed him, he just mopes over the food.
4. He’s SO happy when I go out, it’s just ridiculous. As soon as I get my coat, he goes crazy. I thought it might be excitement about going for a walk, but he gets REALLY miserable again if I actually put a lead on him and take him out.
5. I’m starting to not like him, either. Can you tell him that?
Thanks in advance,
Mr D. Stone (call me Davey)
Smoker’s Paradise
I grew up in a family of smokers who smoked in between smokes. My mum was the lesser of these: she only smoked Superkings and bought them in packs of twenty at the local shop. When she couldn’t get Superkings, she would smoke other brands, but the fact that she needed to get them from the shop did at least mean she didn’t smoke constantly.
My nan smoked EVERYTHING. She started on roll-ups in the morning but by lunchtime would be lighting up any old dog ends she could find: I once saw her put a match to one of those bang snaps just because she thought it was a dog end. Yes, they were THAT small.
Where’s The Wabbit?
When I was growing up, our house was always full of men whom I naturally thought were my ‘Uncles’. One of these was a super friendly guy my mum and nan called ‘Legover Jack’. Now, being a small boy, I was obviously curious as to how Legover had got his name. One night, in the old Iron Juke public house that used to stand at the junction of Bellevue Road and the Plains of Waterloo, I asked the landlord – Johnny Giles – why the man had such a strange nickname.
Giles winked at me and said: ‘He likes a drink. The rhyme goes: Legover Jack, Legover Jack, takes three steps forward and four steps back.’
Naturally, I believed this, although it later became obvious that Legover was a ladies' man with so many notches on his bedpost that it was a small miracle he could still sleep on the bed without it collapsing.
In any case, I was maybe five or six years old at the time, and Legover Jack always did the same thing when he saw me in The Iron Duke. He would come up to me, bend down, whisper ‘What’s going on behind here, then…’ and suddenly pull a pound coin from my ear.
It was incredible, and I loved it...and not just because I was always a quid richer whenever I saw him.
It was MAGIC. Real magic.