Yes - after 3 years of trying to get back into my first blog, i finally managed to transfer all the post and stuff over to a new blog with the same details. #the original MilitaryJunkYard for some reason would not let me access it due to changes in the way blogger format was changed.
So after forgetting the password and endless times of trying to log on, or get into my editing features, i decided to create a new version in the new blogger format and just transfer the data over manually... so nothing has been lost and i can now keep it upto date. Three years catching up to do...WOH!
Wednesday 26 June 2013
Tuesday 25 June 2013
Comics - 8 feb 2010
Ah, the memories come flooding back, - comics, a part of growing up and
escaping into the two dimensional world of war, not dissimiliar to
todays 3D game computers I suppose, except it all seemed so much more
innocent then.
It's to be remembered that the late 60's and early 70's were a time before VCRs, before multi-cable channels on tv and before home game consoles. We could either play outside in the fresh air, re-enacting 'Bridge over the River Kwai' or stay in on wet miserable days and play with our Airfix HO-OO 1/72 scale plastic soldiers and read our comics.
I must admit, my imagination easily allowed me to pass the time after breakfast to teatime, either spent in my box bedroom with my Waterloo figures or reading my comics, even on the bright sunny days. I had a neighbour next door who had a son a year older than me, and she used to pass me a big bundle of second-hand comics over every month or so for me to read, they were a mixture of football (Shoot, Striker, etc) and good old fashioned boys adventure war comics. The football ones held no interest for me so my older brother took them, however I dribbled over multi-copies of the Victor, Hornet, Battle, Hostpur, Valiant, Warlord, Hurricane, Action, Fury and Valour.
It's to be remembered that the late 60's and early 70's were a time before VCRs, before multi-cable channels on tv and before home game consoles. We could either play outside in the fresh air, re-enacting 'Bridge over the River Kwai' or stay in on wet miserable days and play with our Airfix HO-OO 1/72 scale plastic soldiers and read our comics.
I must admit, my imagination easily allowed me to pass the time after breakfast to teatime, either spent in my box bedroom with my Waterloo figures or reading my comics, even on the bright sunny days. I had a neighbour next door who had a son a year older than me, and she used to pass me a big bundle of second-hand comics over every month or so for me to read, they were a mixture of football (Shoot, Striker, etc) and good old fashioned boys adventure war comics. The football ones held no interest for me so my older brother took them, however I dribbled over multi-copies of the Victor, Hornet, Battle, Hostpur, Valiant, Warlord, Hurricane, Action, Fury and Valour.
Most
of the strips from the late sixties and early seventies in the comics,
especially the likes of the Victor, and Valiant were pretty much a post
war continuation of how we won the war. Stylised tommies, cut off in
either Burma or in Dunkirk, or whatever, desperately fighting off the
enemy and WINNING despite the odds. I lapped it up. Of course I did read
the silly comics too, the Dandy, Topper, Beezer, Sparky, Cor! and not
forgetting the Beano which did have one of my favourite characters, -
General Jumbo, the 12 year old boy who radio controls his own miniature
army, navy and airforce, ...gawd! how jealous was I.
I
understand comic sales in Britain are at an all time low, - not
surprising is it? How can you compare the rather flat old fashioned
method of comic strip storylines to the fast pace of Grand Theft Auto or
Call of Duty, where you can almost smell the cordite and feel the heat
of a shell blast. But somehow, the strip for me has its own place in our
culture of growing up, the brain still needs to be capable
understanding sometimes quite complex page layouts and of processing the
information and of course the learner-reading aspect still has its
merits. I once bought my daughter a girls comic a few years ago and she
couldnt quite fathom out how to use it, I literally had to point out how
to read a comic to her....is that progress?
The
comics to me were more than just an exciting narrative, the artwork
itself was a joy to behold, and the best of the artwork came from the
Commando series and War Picture Library set of books. Even now I
sometimes buy them if I go on a long train journey, yes I get funny
looks, but they really are very well produced and drawn by artists who
know their subject matter, as a lad I knew what a spitty looked like and
if it had tropical filters for the middle east battlefield, so woe be
tide if the wrong rifle was in the hands of the wrong soldier.
Just look at the quality of the linework of the black and white image below, now that's someone who knows his aeroplanes....
The
good thing about the Commando and War Picture Library stories were that
some of them were actually based on historical events, I learnt about
the tanker 'Ohio' and its heroic journey in the Pedestal convoy to Malta
because of these books. But, inevitably as the seventies wore on the
micro-chip began to force its way in to our simple flared lifestyle,
first it was the calculator, then came the LCD watch, and I distinctly
recall mother buying a first generation pong game console, (with gun!!)
for my main xmas gift in 1978.
I
was still reading comics but had grown up a bit and moved on the likes
of Planet of the Apes, Hulk, Spiderman and a new sci-fi comic named 2000
AD, which apealed to my dark sense of humour and aslo had some
brilliant artists working for them (some had moved from the Commando/War
Library studios), so their attention to detail and imagination could
now produce clever, inventive and quite adult storylines.
There
were a couple of characters in 2000 AD which I particularly liked,
Rogue Trooper and Strontium Dog, both I think are ripe for big-movie
screen versions, if handled right.
I
can't leave this blog without mention of some of the free gifts the
comics regularly giveaway in the seventies, the most memorable was with
the first edition of Warlord, a set of replica medals in a stand up
case, of course they were a gimmick, and it worked perfectly, I used to
be up at 6am and sat outside the newsagents door before he opened just
to make sure I got the freebie. Other gifts included the three spoked
boomerang flyer, which was supposed to do a full circle and come back, I
think mine ended up in a neighbours roof gutter, and then there was the
clapper or banger, which gave us endless hours of side-splitting
laughter as we waited behind a door and made people jump!
I
had a massive pile of 2000 AD comics, specials and annuals that I lugged
around with me for about 15 years, then one day I just downsized and
got rid of the lot. I still wonder was that the right decision, and even
now if I see them at boot sales I have to summon all my willpower to
just walk away....
I
feel a little sad that the comic has declined as it was a part of my
life and many others as we grew from boyhood into adulthood, the modern
generation won't have those precious memories, now it seems the only
buyers of comics are middle-aged men who gather at conventions and fairs
in order to find that elusive edition that will make their collection
complete.
Pretend soldiers - 22 jan 2010
Cant believe its been a year since my last posting, and it was a busy
year for me, but I got the time now to resume it. We have relocated back
to Yorkshire, 10 months spent in Pickering running a pub, but now we
are in York, and i'm wanting to get back to working in the heritage and
historical sectors which i have missed so much.
So where did we leave it, ...think it was my views on the Falklands Conflict wasnt it. Well i'll lighten the blog this time and tell you about the fun of being a military re-enactor....
Theres a wealth and diversity of different eras and various branch of arms to volunteer for as a re-encator these days, ...from picts to romans, from vikings to normans, from robin hood to dads army, or you can even join the ranks of Darth Vaders Imperial Stormtroopers. I plumped for the REDCOAT, that icon of the british soldier from Wellingtons 'scum of the earth' to the heroes of Rorkes Drift. It offered the romance, the glamour, the pride and the chance of firing a big old smokey musket with a sharp piece of metal stuck on the end.
Well it was none of these, apart from the gun bit, it turned out to be tiring, sweaty, uncomfortable, dirty, noisy and sometimes embarrassing when things all went to ratshit, but it WAS FUN. Especially the bit in between the live action stuff, there was the drinking and the revelry, the meeting of others all sharing stories and jokes, and sometimes even girls....yes girls.
The above chaps are from the same group i joined, the Old Faithfuls, the 68th Durham Light Infantry. I joined them in 2000 when i was separated from my wife and had time on my hands to indulge myself in spurious hobbies, it was something i suppose i had harboured from the time i tried to join the armed forces, but here you could live in another time warp. They were a mixed bunch, some young ones and more older types, again with probably time on their hands now that the kids had left home, mostly from around the gateshead area, although they were other pointless members from overseas and down south, but they hardly ever attended any meetings or events. It was a close friend who was already a member who invited me to a curry night they were having, this i thought would be a good time to meet them. Hmm, lets see, put these three things together and what do you get, Geordies+drink+curry...?
Yes it just turned into a rave, but it was a start, i agreed to join and see them at their next drill session, i musta been pissed!
Pissed on duty again......
Now the thing about pretending to be a historical soldier is that you are not really a soldier. You may have the weapons, you may have the uniform, you may have the knowledge, but you cannot live the life, or the hardships or the terror of fighting for your life against an enemy trying to kill you. Now i'm not a slim, lythe, panther type of person, more a Gnu rolling around in mud, and i thought i looked the bees-knees in my bright new red Camblewick Green toy soldier uniform. That is until i saw a photo of myself my sister took at an event, and then all my pride and confidence just drained away, i looked more like the Fat Controller! I couldnt be a Napoleonic redcoat, i took my re-enacting seriously and there would not be an 18st foot of the line soldier, - just no way!
Now i have attended many, many events and seen the historical context of various battles or regiments been made a mockery of. To really expect the public to see how the soldier of long ago looked, fed, slept and fought then we've got to be true to their memory and history, and its NOT seeing girls taking the part of men (its not a sexist thing, just purity one) or Saxons wearing i-pods, or 20 stone Waffen SS men. The organisers and secretary's of these groups need to put their foot down and tell people when they are not doing justice to the dedication of the group, i'm not saying that they cant be an active member of the group, but something that would be in context of their appearance. Well, thats my rant and opinion out the way.
See see, look in the books, a FAT AIRBORNE PARA?, ....sorry it just aint right!
A particularly memorable event was when the group was invited to a multi-national re-enactment in Sarzana, Italy. It was June 2001, a vary hot month in northern Tuscany, not the best time to be running around in heavy woollen tunics and carrying 40lbs of kit, even worse when you are fat - it was a four day thing, with two days spent travelling, but it was only gonna cost each member £20 and it sounded a once in a lifetime event, so off we trot. Now we were told that we were to be lodged in a castle, which sounded great.. but, as we were the last to arrive we found that the only place left was in the deepest bowels of the castle, - in the dungeon, no hot running water, towels or maid service, but free moss, rats and slimy wet walls. Those damn frenchies had nabbed our rooms and the sunloungers too, still we all pulled together and with a spring clean, some fresh flowers and plenty of straw on the floor it almost felt cozy, then it was time for pasta and wine. Too much wine. Far, far too much wine.
We had to be up at the crack of dawn to start the days events, but after a long coach journey, hardly any sleep and then too much free aclohol we could barely get out of our pits to go for a piss. But being English i felt we had to be an example, so my close friend, Paul, and i eventually roused ourselves and decided to go for a shower and do the morning toiletries. Unfortunately we wern't the only ones to over-indulge the previous night and we found the only bath/shower was half full of regurgitated pasta, lasagne, pizza, some unknown hungarian dishes and copious amounts of wine, beer, lager and probably piss. So the shower was out, a quick handbasin wash down made do, ..oh the joys of living on the road. Anyway time for a good hearty British deposit, ....alas the toilet, shared by over 50 poor souls was in no fit state to be used, I almost decided to use the basin again until Paul recommeded a tried and trusted method, over the castle walls. So we climbed up to the ramparts found a good spot between the castellations and bombs away, ah it almost felt like heaven to be sat there with the beautiful morning sunrise peeping over the hills and not a care in the world, and hoping a frenchie would pop his head out of a windown down below!
Sarzana Castle, beautiful to look at, shit to live in,
The main event of the weekend was taking place in the town below, with the French attacking us and beating us all the way back to the castle which was about 2 miles away. Apart from us we had Dutch, Austrian, German, Italian, Polish, and obviously French attendees, and we all got on famously well with very little malcontent. On the retreat back to the castle the English force kept the enemy off with a fire and run manoevre, all the time retreating back to the castle which stood on quite a steep hill about 300 feet above the town. At about a mile from safety we all ran out of ammo, so we took to our bayonets, then we saw a hoard of screaming cavalry come thundering down on us, so we turned and asked the captain should we form a square, but we were in the middle of a narrow street and he just looked at us and said 'No! SCARPER, every man for himself', so complete panic ensued which left me in fits of laughter and in fact I was the last to get back there. I was so knackered that i let the french army walk pass me, much to the jeers (friendly) and taunts of the foot soldiers, a friendly dutch soldier eventally walked the last half mile or so with me and shared his spare canteen which was full of brandy, ..ah by the gods it was finally worth it. Good memories and something i will never forget.
I would recommend anybody wanting to take part in re-enactment to go for it, its a tremendous learning curve, hard work but bloody good fun. I might go back to it once i have lost some weight, but what period?, i quite like the WW1 tommy, ...or maybe WW2 paras, ...or maybe 'Nam, theres just too much choice, by the time i decide it will probably have to be the Home Guard!
So where did we leave it, ...think it was my views on the Falklands Conflict wasnt it. Well i'll lighten the blog this time and tell you about the fun of being a military re-enactor....
Theres a wealth and diversity of different eras and various branch of arms to volunteer for as a re-encator these days, ...from picts to romans, from vikings to normans, from robin hood to dads army, or you can even join the ranks of Darth Vaders Imperial Stormtroopers. I plumped for the REDCOAT, that icon of the british soldier from Wellingtons 'scum of the earth' to the heroes of Rorkes Drift. It offered the romance, the glamour, the pride and the chance of firing a big old smokey musket with a sharp piece of metal stuck on the end.
Well it was none of these, apart from the gun bit, it turned out to be tiring, sweaty, uncomfortable, dirty, noisy and sometimes embarrassing when things all went to ratshit, but it WAS FUN. Especially the bit in between the live action stuff, there was the drinking and the revelry, the meeting of others all sharing stories and jokes, and sometimes even girls....yes girls.
The above chaps are from the same group i joined, the Old Faithfuls, the 68th Durham Light Infantry. I joined them in 2000 when i was separated from my wife and had time on my hands to indulge myself in spurious hobbies, it was something i suppose i had harboured from the time i tried to join the armed forces, but here you could live in another time warp. They were a mixed bunch, some young ones and more older types, again with probably time on their hands now that the kids had left home, mostly from around the gateshead area, although they were other pointless members from overseas and down south, but they hardly ever attended any meetings or events. It was a close friend who was already a member who invited me to a curry night they were having, this i thought would be a good time to meet them. Hmm, lets see, put these three things together and what do you get, Geordies+drink+curry...?
Yes it just turned into a rave, but it was a start, i agreed to join and see them at their next drill session, i musta been pissed!
Pissed on duty again......Now the thing about pretending to be a historical soldier is that you are not really a soldier. You may have the weapons, you may have the uniform, you may have the knowledge, but you cannot live the life, or the hardships or the terror of fighting for your life against an enemy trying to kill you. Now i'm not a slim, lythe, panther type of person, more a Gnu rolling around in mud, and i thought i looked the bees-knees in my bright new red Camblewick Green toy soldier uniform. That is until i saw a photo of myself my sister took at an event, and then all my pride and confidence just drained away, i looked more like the Fat Controller! I couldnt be a Napoleonic redcoat, i took my re-enacting seriously and there would not be an 18st foot of the line soldier, - just no way!
Now i have attended many, many events and seen the historical context of various battles or regiments been made a mockery of. To really expect the public to see how the soldier of long ago looked, fed, slept and fought then we've got to be true to their memory and history, and its NOT seeing girls taking the part of men (its not a sexist thing, just purity one) or Saxons wearing i-pods, or 20 stone Waffen SS men. The organisers and secretary's of these groups need to put their foot down and tell people when they are not doing justice to the dedication of the group, i'm not saying that they cant be an active member of the group, but something that would be in context of their appearance. Well, thats my rant and opinion out the way.
See see, look in the books, a FAT AIRBORNE PARA?, ....sorry it just aint right!A particularly memorable event was when the group was invited to a multi-national re-enactment in Sarzana, Italy. It was June 2001, a vary hot month in northern Tuscany, not the best time to be running around in heavy woollen tunics and carrying 40lbs of kit, even worse when you are fat - it was a four day thing, with two days spent travelling, but it was only gonna cost each member £20 and it sounded a once in a lifetime event, so off we trot. Now we were told that we were to be lodged in a castle, which sounded great.. but, as we were the last to arrive we found that the only place left was in the deepest bowels of the castle, - in the dungeon, no hot running water, towels or maid service, but free moss, rats and slimy wet walls. Those damn frenchies had nabbed our rooms and the sunloungers too, still we all pulled together and with a spring clean, some fresh flowers and plenty of straw on the floor it almost felt cozy, then it was time for pasta and wine. Too much wine. Far, far too much wine.
We had to be up at the crack of dawn to start the days events, but after a long coach journey, hardly any sleep and then too much free aclohol we could barely get out of our pits to go for a piss. But being English i felt we had to be an example, so my close friend, Paul, and i eventually roused ourselves and decided to go for a shower and do the morning toiletries. Unfortunately we wern't the only ones to over-indulge the previous night and we found the only bath/shower was half full of regurgitated pasta, lasagne, pizza, some unknown hungarian dishes and copious amounts of wine, beer, lager and probably piss. So the shower was out, a quick handbasin wash down made do, ..oh the joys of living on the road. Anyway time for a good hearty British deposit, ....alas the toilet, shared by over 50 poor souls was in no fit state to be used, I almost decided to use the basin again until Paul recommeded a tried and trusted method, over the castle walls. So we climbed up to the ramparts found a good spot between the castellations and bombs away, ah it almost felt like heaven to be sat there with the beautiful morning sunrise peeping over the hills and not a care in the world, and hoping a frenchie would pop his head out of a windown down below!
Sarzana Castle, beautiful to look at, shit to live in,The main event of the weekend was taking place in the town below, with the French attacking us and beating us all the way back to the castle which was about 2 miles away. Apart from us we had Dutch, Austrian, German, Italian, Polish, and obviously French attendees, and we all got on famously well with very little malcontent. On the retreat back to the castle the English force kept the enemy off with a fire and run manoevre, all the time retreating back to the castle which stood on quite a steep hill about 300 feet above the town. At about a mile from safety we all ran out of ammo, so we took to our bayonets, then we saw a hoard of screaming cavalry come thundering down on us, so we turned and asked the captain should we form a square, but we were in the middle of a narrow street and he just looked at us and said 'No! SCARPER, every man for himself', so complete panic ensued which left me in fits of laughter and in fact I was the last to get back there. I was so knackered that i let the french army walk pass me, much to the jeers (friendly) and taunts of the foot soldiers, a friendly dutch soldier eventally walked the last half mile or so with me and shared his spare canteen which was full of brandy, ..ah by the gods it was finally worth it. Good memories and something i will never forget.
I would recommend anybody wanting to take part in re-enactment to go for it, its a tremendous learning curve, hard work but bloody good fun. I might go back to it once i have lost some weight, but what period?, i quite like the WW1 tommy, ...or maybe WW2 paras, ...or maybe 'Nam, theres just too much choice, by the time i decide it will probably have to be the Home Guard!
Real War - 9 feb 2009
I want to go back and give some thoughts and feelings about the
Falklands, the first war we as a nation had been involved in during my
lifetime.
Firstly I have to say that I am now grateful for not being involved personally in any of them. Today, as a forty-something I now have have a broader understanding of the world (I think) and the transparent reasons for going to war. Back in 1982 as a 20 year old I would have given my left testicle to be in the 'thick of it'; thats apparantly why the best killing machine is an 18 year old, - they know no better and have nothing to fear. But its a strange thing hindsight, I was blissfully living thru the 1970's and although aware of conflict, wether it be the middle-east, or vietnam, it was always far, far away. Yes, Northern Ireland was closer to home, but living on a council estate in Middlesbrough as a kid it was nothing to worry about. The six o'clock news seemed to have nothing but images of Beirut, a city in terminal meltdown, or hi-flying B52's dropping never ending streams of bombs on the lush jungles of Cambodia, or the devastation of a carbomb attack in some sleepy Irish border village.
Then,
suddenly in 1982 Britain was at war, no, not with the Germans again,
but with some tinpot banana dictatorship way on down south, ....go thru
Stevenage, turn right at Trafalgar Square and carry on past Cornwall
till you come to a bunch of islands called The Falklands. (It was one of
those surreal moments when we could not understand how an invasion
force from Argentina had sneaked past our defences to land on an island
near Scotland...oh how we laughed...)
I really WAS excited about a war, no thought of how many may be killed or the horrors to come, but at last I could tell my grandkids that I lived thru that war, maybe it was some rediculous notion of sympathy with my parents who had to live through a REAL WAR, except they got an address from the Prime Minister who actually announced the time and place when the war had begun. All we had was a blundering government who didnt really know how to react, and when they did it was a real 19th century fleet sendoff; sending the good old Royal Navy (to whom they had just previously announced massive cutbacks, seemed like this war had just saved their bacon!), to a far flung colony to give 'the blackies a damn good thrashing'. It was real Boys Own stuff, I was immensely proud of that fleet and had no doubt about the ability of our forces to to the job and come home with nothing but a dented pride. It was only many years later and after reading countless books about the conflict that I realised what a ad-hoc bunch of ships we managed to scrape together, the lack of a real carrier with airborne power, shoddy equipment and the amount of times we nearly lost it all to poor logistics, but like Dunkirk we somehow turned in to a miracle.I was glued to the box, I watched Newsnight for the very first time, I started to cut out and collect all the different newspapers coverage and I couldnt believe how well things were going at the start of May, it seemed a walkover. The peace process was in tatters (which is what I hoped, bizarre huh?...) and it was looking distinctly clear that we would have to go the full hog and invade our own territory. The jingo-istic press coverage lulled us all in to a false sense of smug satisfaction...
So,
it was real shock to the system and the country when we lost the 'Shiny
Sheff', and 2 Sea Harriers almost on the same day. The word 'Exocet'
had entered the english language, and we were introduced to 'smart'
weapons, I think this is when the first doubts about our military
abilities began to creep in to my concious; how can a ship, and a Royal
Navy one at that be put out of action by one tiny missile, and it was
darstardly french who supplied it? I had never questioned the legitimacy
of the war, it seemed a clear and cut case of bullys taking something
that wasn't theirs. However, during a heated debate about the war at
college some of the more politically minded argued the toss that it was a
well timed diversion of the Govt to give the public something other
than miserable economic bad news, and that the islands were the result
of US being the bullys in the first place, it was the last vestiges of
colonialism fighting a gunboat war, and the sinking of the Belgrano
seemed to reinforce that idea.... but it wont bring back the nearly 1000
soldiers, sailors and airmen, and civilians who lost theirs lives in
the name of freedom*/democracy*/colonialism*/dictatorship* (*delete
applicable).
Well, we all know how it ended, we won, they lost, they had a change of govt. We went back to miners strikes, Poll Tax riots and Maggie won another term, but it wasnt long before we were invited to participate in another war......sun, sand, and loads of tanks, wheres Monty when you need him?
Was it all worth it? I doubt it now, certainly the material recovery of the islands didnt make any difference, even now they are a drain on the UK, they are not self sufficient and need huge logistical and military resources just to keep 2000 odd people safe in sheep. Did it stop any bullies from invading another sovereign territory? Err, no, there was this chap called Saddam...
I suppose it did force the military to look at their equipment, and by 1990 at least we did have better boots, guns and personal protection.....oh, and corned beef was back on the menu.
And finally......
Firstly I have to say that I am now grateful for not being involved personally in any of them. Today, as a forty-something I now have have a broader understanding of the world (I think) and the transparent reasons for going to war. Back in 1982 as a 20 year old I would have given my left testicle to be in the 'thick of it'; thats apparantly why the best killing machine is an 18 year old, - they know no better and have nothing to fear. But its a strange thing hindsight, I was blissfully living thru the 1970's and although aware of conflict, wether it be the middle-east, or vietnam, it was always far, far away. Yes, Northern Ireland was closer to home, but living on a council estate in Middlesbrough as a kid it was nothing to worry about. The six o'clock news seemed to have nothing but images of Beirut, a city in terminal meltdown, or hi-flying B52's dropping never ending streams of bombs on the lush jungles of Cambodia, or the devastation of a carbomb attack in some sleepy Irish border village.
 |
| Images from my childhood, slotted in between the Magic Roundabout and Dr Who.... |
 |
| This is where the Falklands should have been all along, then there would have been no-trouble from those cornedbeefers down south...... however, they still could have been trouble from Iceland, especially after nicking all our cod! |
I really WAS excited about a war, no thought of how many may be killed or the horrors to come, but at last I could tell my grandkids that I lived thru that war, maybe it was some rediculous notion of sympathy with my parents who had to live through a REAL WAR, except they got an address from the Prime Minister who actually announced the time and place when the war had begun. All we had was a blundering government who didnt really know how to react, and when they did it was a real 19th century fleet sendoff; sending the good old Royal Navy (to whom they had just previously announced massive cutbacks, seemed like this war had just saved their bacon!), to a far flung colony to give 'the blackies a damn good thrashing'. It was real Boys Own stuff, I was immensely proud of that fleet and had no doubt about the ability of our forces to to the job and come home with nothing but a dented pride. It was only many years later and after reading countless books about the conflict that I realised what a ad-hoc bunch of ships we managed to scrape together, the lack of a real carrier with airborne power, shoddy equipment and the amount of times we nearly lost it all to poor logistics, but like Dunkirk we somehow turned in to a miracle.I was glued to the box, I watched Newsnight for the very first time, I started to cut out and collect all the different newspapers coverage and I couldnt believe how well things were going at the start of May, it seemed a walkover. The peace process was in tatters (which is what I hoped, bizarre huh?...) and it was looking distinctly clear that we would have to go the full hog and invade our own territory. The jingo-istic press coverage lulled us all in to a false sense of smug satisfaction...
 |
| mmm, couldnt be less PC..... |
Well, we all know how it ended, we won, they lost, they had a change of govt. We went back to miners strikes, Poll Tax riots and Maggie won another term, but it wasnt long before we were invited to participate in another war......sun, sand, and loads of tanks, wheres Monty when you need him?
Was it all worth it? I doubt it now, certainly the material recovery of the islands didnt make any difference, even now they are a drain on the UK, they are not self sufficient and need huge logistical and military resources just to keep 2000 odd people safe in sheep. Did it stop any bullies from invading another sovereign territory? Err, no, there was this chap called Saddam...
I suppose it did force the military to look at their equipment, and by 1990 at least we did have better boots, guns and personal protection.....oh, and corned beef was back on the menu.
And finally......
 |
| ...the beautiful Avro Vulcan, got its blooding at the 12th hour, albeit with those nasty iron bombs, it was a very long way to go to get ONE bomb on target.... |
Time to make money - 26 jan 2009
After the debacle with the failed attempt at joining Her Majesties armed
forces I decided to carry on and finish Art College, after all I had
already spent 3 years there so whats another year. My original intention
was to become an animator, in the Terry Gilliam/Wallace and Grommit
thread, however this was 1983 and I was 'persuaded' by the college
mafioso to go into graphics instead, looking back I wish I had stuck to
my guns, just look at how successful Nick Park is now.....the SWINE!
You owe me Park!!!!
Anyway it was soon after I left college I got my first job, as an illustrator in a govt sponsored project, it was crap work but hey I'm now earning £40 a week, I even bought an evening newspaper everynight after work to take home to show to my mother that I was now a grown man.....but I itched to do something 'proper', do something I was interested in that would give me more artistic gratification than the pap I was doing between 9 and 5.
It was one night at home in my box bedroom surrounded by the remains of my plastic models, hanging drearly from the ceiling, or on wonky home-made shelves that I had the spark of an idea. Why not depict one of them as an illustration or even a painting, first choice was a diorama of the bow and stern of HMS Antelope, sunk in Falkland Sound in 1982. However I decided against it as it was too adventurous for a first attempt, and decided instead to do a technical version side view of a model I had made up from different Airfix ships, HMS Eagle. It was the hull of the 'Fearless' with additions and bits from other british ships, basically it was my idea of a communications vessel the Royal Navy sorely lacked during the Falklands War, especially if the one they were using as flagship, the Hermes had been sunk.
My first illustration, HMS Eagle, its amazing what can be achieved if you have no distractions....
After this first one i did several other ships for my own delectation, HMS Oracle, (sub), HMS Swift (Patrol Boat), K15, (an early sub that had funnels!), HMS Dumbarton Castle (Fisheries Patrol Boat) and a real big one of another imaginery vessel I called HMS Agamemnon (a new version of the Landing Ship support). This originally started out as the hull of the Russian ship 'Moskva', and again i just added loads of extra stuff from my bits box.
The Hong Kong Patrol vessel, HMS Swift, probably a gunrunning boat now...still, a very handsome vessel.
One of my last commissions, and probably my favourite, a two seat Harrier, used for pilot training.
You owe me Park!!!!Anyway it was soon after I left college I got my first job, as an illustrator in a govt sponsored project, it was crap work but hey I'm now earning £40 a week, I even bought an evening newspaper everynight after work to take home to show to my mother that I was now a grown man.....but I itched to do something 'proper', do something I was interested in that would give me more artistic gratification than the pap I was doing between 9 and 5.
It was one night at home in my box bedroom surrounded by the remains of my plastic models, hanging drearly from the ceiling, or on wonky home-made shelves that I had the spark of an idea. Why not depict one of them as an illustration or even a painting, first choice was a diorama of the bow and stern of HMS Antelope, sunk in Falkland Sound in 1982. However I decided against it as it was too adventurous for a first attempt, and decided instead to do a technical version side view of a model I had made up from different Airfix ships, HMS Eagle. It was the hull of the 'Fearless' with additions and bits from other british ships, basically it was my idea of a communications vessel the Royal Navy sorely lacked during the Falklands War, especially if the one they were using as flagship, the Hermes had been sunk.
My first illustration, HMS Eagle, its amazing what can be achieved if you have no distractions....After this first one i did several other ships for my own delectation, HMS Oracle, (sub), HMS Swift (Patrol Boat), K15, (an early sub that had funnels!), HMS Dumbarton Castle (Fisheries Patrol Boat) and a real big one of another imaginery vessel I called HMS Agamemnon (a new version of the Landing Ship support). This originally started out as the hull of the Russian ship 'Moskva', and again i just added loads of extra stuff from my bits box.
The Hong Kong Patrol vessel, HMS Swift, probably a gunrunning boat now...still, a very handsome vessel.
About
1987, i came across several weekly publications, War Machine,
Illustrated Aircraft, which were using the same technique i had been
using for the past few years, so putting two and two together i thought,
hey, i could make some money at this m'larky. So i wrote off loads of
letters with copies of my work and waited for the offers to flood in. Oh
how ignorant i was, i'd never heard of agents, commissions, art
directors and the like and most publishers were nice enough to offer to
'keep my details on file'. One company however, Squadron Prints of
Glasgow, gave me the break to do an illustration of any new project,
they were well known for their hi-quality aircraft and ship prints and
they wanted to do something different, F1 racing cars, so they asked me
to do Nigel Mansells car for the pricely sum of £150, which at the time i
thought was quite generous. However by the time i added up the
materials and hours i think it worked out i was paying them for the
privilege!! It did eventually lead to about 10 years worth of
illustration work, covering aircraft, ships, steam trains, and cars.
My first Commission, I still own the original, but they never gave it back to me..... (click image for a close up)
One of my last commissions, and probably my favourite, a two seat Harrier, used for pilot training.
(click image for a close up)
After
10 years i got a bit fed up of working in the same format, and so i
decided to have a break, plus the time spent on the artwork was leaving
me very little, if any margin for profit, so i still had to work full
time as well, this was tiring, too often i spent the whole night working
to finish a deadline for the morning collection, only to have to get
ready to go off to work straight after. The fun of doing it had run out
for me. I still have guilty pangs of not getting back to my passion, and
i'm sure one day i will start painting again, but this time for my own
pleasure again, i especially fancy doing aviation paintings in oils or
gouache, one day maybe....
A
change for me was doing some figure work, i enjoyed doing these bacause
it was closer to my original intention when i started off all those
years ago!
(click image for a close up)
War Movies - 13 jan 2009
Where
was I, ah! yes, just had my rejections from the MoD, not that its
affected me though, I still love our armed forces, not in a biblical way
but as a huge mark of respect for the way they have done their jobs
over the last 800 odd years, usually against massive odds. I know its
probably not very PC to love your military but its in my blood somehow,
and I'm far too gone to try and work out exactly what it is that
facinates me, but seeing two movies at a young age may have exerted some
influence over me, any ideas what they maybe?, ....heres two subtle
clues:
My older brother took me to see 'The Battle of Britain' at the Majestic Cinema in my home town of Middlesbrough when it was first released in 1969, i was only 7. I vividly recall the scene where the front gunner of a Heinkel He111 gets shot in the eyes and his goggles fill with blood....(as i say its never affected me.....) it was probably also responsible for the start of my love of aircraft too, my first 72 scale Airfix Mk1a Spitfire was only round the corner (buts that another story). Even now there's very few films, especially with the CGI, that has come close to the aerial scenes that BoB captured and indeed started the ball rolling for the aircraft preservation scene in the UK. I seem to recall i also had a leaflet or film booklet that came with that very first screening, but what happened to it i have no idea, (probably in the same place as my 1960's Batmobile, original Thunderbirds models, the Captain Scarlett SPV and UFO Green Moonbase Interceptor!!)'Zulu' i first saw about a year earlier at my brothers senior school film club night, i will never forget the 16mm event as 'Men of Harlech' boomed over some crappy school speaker system, and the immortal lines; '' Zulus Sir, farsands of 'em'' was etched into my memory. Even now i can't let the films pass me by if i catch them on cable, even though i have DVD special editions of both films.
One other movie i am fond of which i saw as a kid was the 1958 John Mills movie 'Dunkirk'. Its a film which for me captures a good portrait of the British Tommy in the early part of WW2, and on reflection its apparant that theres just something about the underdog coming out on top thru adverse conditions which appeals to me. Of course theres been other movies which i admire and enjoy, 'Waterloo' is a very underrated movie, just look at the scale of the thing, although sketchy and contrived in places its a spectacular period piece. 'Apocalyse Now' i rate in my top five too, if just for the hell of getting it made (if you get a chance to see the documentary about the making of it 'Hearts of Darkness' watch it!), the great music soundtrack, and the fact that it was made when 'Vietnam' was an embarrasing and dirty word in late 1970s america.
I'm still waiting for the definitive movie version of 'The Falklands War' - An Island Too Far', (Francis Ford Coppola if you arnt too busy), again it will be about a small force, greatly underestimated and under provisioned overcoming the evil forces of despotism and tyranny and kicking some arse just when we needed it. But i doubt it, it seems ok for Hollywood to glorify its forces thru movies like 'Jarhead' 'Blackhawk Down' 'Courage Under Fire', but we brits just seem to want to brush our armed forces exploits politely under the carpet and forget what they have done in the name of our govt. I dont want to get too political here, but i get slightly uneasy when i think of our lads in Afganistan, at war, but we here just seem to go about our daily lives with no thought of what we as a nation are involved in. Still, no doubt in years to come it will be another glorious chapter in the history of what i consider the best armed forces in the world.
Just dont mention Agincourt whilst on holiday in France, you WILL be lynched. Now THAT WAS a battle.
Here's one in the eye for you froggies.....
The 80's - 10 sept 2008
We're in to the 1980's now. Art College was a drag and the Falklands
war had just been won by a grateful Britain, who had just remembered why
we used to have an empire.....the evil tyrants had been well and truely
whiplashed and the Royal Navy suddenly had a bright future after the
MOD cuts of the early 80's. Maybe i could get some real military
training.
Personally i had shed 5 stone, was trim, fit and single, so i fancied my chances with the either boys in blue or the deck swabs of the Senior Service. I plumped for the Navy; free rum, free visits to distant and mysterious lands and as many girls as you could fit on your arms. First choice the Navy, ......this is how the interview went:
Old Fat Sailor Man: Well your phyical tests are fine and the written tests even better.
Me: Thats good, i was worried about the tests.
OFSM: Ok, so what do you fancy doing?
Me: Well, i've been thinking, and i quite like the idea of going into the gunnery side of things...
OFSM: Hmmmm, we dont use guns no more, its all hi tec now.
Me: But you just won the falklands war and guns were on all the ships.
OFSM: Yes but that was just a one off. How do you fancy Submarines?
ME: Oh no, too claustrophobic, i like my fresh air.
OFSM: Well you are too qualified for a deck hand and you are not qualified enough for officer training. So i dont know where to fit you in.
ME: Oh, thats it then?
OFSM: Yes, (pause) .....have you thought about the Police Force, i hear they are looking for people. Anyway we have our quota of filled vacancies now, try again next year.
And that was my first and last impression of the Senior Service. Compete and utter disillusion.
So, my next visit was to the RAF Careers Office. I have always had a lasting love with aircraft, the big models in the RAF window had always been a place for me to make a beeline to everytime i was in town, but i knew i would never make aircrew because of my shortsightedness.
So more tests, physical and mental, and then the final interview again with a rather hard faced Sgt this time. The warning bells were ringing in my ears....
Hard Faced Sgt: Well your phyical tests are fine and the written tests excellent.
Me: thats good.
HFSgt: So what branch are you interested in?
Me: Well i quite like the idea of the RAF Regiment.
HFSgt: oooww, you don't want to go there, its crap, you may as well be a squaddie in the army!!
What are your interests?
ME: Well, i like the idea of being involved with aircraft, and i do have art and photography skills.
HFSgt: Are you Gay?
Me: Excuse me!!
HFSgt: Well you are attending art college, so you must be gay, and on drugs too, ...have you got a girlfriend?
Me: No, i am too busy with college stuff at the mom....
HFSgt: (cut off) What would you do if late one nite somebody slipped into your bunk whilst you were asleep.....?
Me: (getting rather confused and pissed off now), i would tell him to get out and sod off...
HFSgt: ah, but what if it was a genuine mistake?
Me: Look I AM NOT GAY, and what has this to do with choosing a branch?
HFSgt: just checking.... tell you what, i will put your name forward for Air Traffic Control, hows that?
Me: But i would rather do the photographer or....
HFSgt: (butts in) .....well you can always transfer at a later date. We send all your names off to the MOD in London and a computer picks out the right number of candidates of those who apply.
Me: ...but that doesn't sound like a fair way of doing it, surely you should be picked on your merits, abilities and personality.....
HFSgt: Look, if you don't get picked this year come back next year, we are always looking for good people.....
Compete and utter disillusion AGAIN. What do you have to do to get in the armed forces, i was offering myself and all they wanted was bull-neck gorillas with no personality and imagination.
So i never did apply again the following year, i sometimes look back and wished i did, maybe it would have been an adventure. I surely would have enjoyed the armed services, the self-discipline and organisation was second nature to me and i'm sure i would have excelled in my profession. But it never happened, i can't turn back time, and this is probably why now i am so into militaria, to make up for that missing piece of my life.
As a final part of this story i used to call into the local Army and Navy Stores in town often, here i bought a Navy square neck top and an RAF jacket, which i used to wear for the next few years, maybe it was my small way of mentally being attached to these services.
Personally i had shed 5 stone, was trim, fit and single, so i fancied my chances with the either boys in blue or the deck swabs of the Senior Service. I plumped for the Navy; free rum, free visits to distant and mysterious lands and as many girls as you could fit on your arms. First choice the Navy, ......this is how the interview went:
Old Fat Sailor Man: Well your phyical tests are fine and the written tests even better.
Me: Thats good, i was worried about the tests.
OFSM: Ok, so what do you fancy doing?
Me: Well, i've been thinking, and i quite like the idea of going into the gunnery side of things...
OFSM: Hmmmm, we dont use guns no more, its all hi tec now.
Me: But you just won the falklands war and guns were on all the ships.
OFSM: Yes but that was just a one off. How do you fancy Submarines?
ME: Oh no, too claustrophobic, i like my fresh air.
OFSM: Well you are too qualified for a deck hand and you are not qualified enough for officer training. So i dont know where to fit you in.
ME: Oh, thats it then?
OFSM: Yes, (pause) .....have you thought about the Police Force, i hear they are looking for people. Anyway we have our quota of filled vacancies now, try again next year.
And that was my first and last impression of the Senior Service. Compete and utter disillusion.
So, my next visit was to the RAF Careers Office. I have always had a lasting love with aircraft, the big models in the RAF window had always been a place for me to make a beeline to everytime i was in town, but i knew i would never make aircrew because of my shortsightedness.
So more tests, physical and mental, and then the final interview again with a rather hard faced Sgt this time. The warning bells were ringing in my ears....
Hard Faced Sgt: Well your phyical tests are fine and the written tests excellent.
Me: thats good.
HFSgt: So what branch are you interested in?
Me: Well i quite like the idea of the RAF Regiment.
HFSgt: oooww, you don't want to go there, its crap, you may as well be a squaddie in the army!!
What are your interests?
ME: Well, i like the idea of being involved with aircraft, and i do have art and photography skills.
HFSgt: Are you Gay?
Me: Excuse me!!
HFSgt: Well you are attending art college, so you must be gay, and on drugs too, ...have you got a girlfriend?
Me: No, i am too busy with college stuff at the mom....
HFSgt: (cut off) What would you do if late one nite somebody slipped into your bunk whilst you were asleep.....?
Me: (getting rather confused and pissed off now), i would tell him to get out and sod off...
HFSgt: ah, but what if it was a genuine mistake?
Me: Look I AM NOT GAY, and what has this to do with choosing a branch?
HFSgt: just checking.... tell you what, i will put your name forward for Air Traffic Control, hows that?
Me: But i would rather do the photographer or....
HFSgt: (butts in) .....well you can always transfer at a later date. We send all your names off to the MOD in London and a computer picks out the right number of candidates of those who apply.
Me: ...but that doesn't sound like a fair way of doing it, surely you should be picked on your merits, abilities and personality.....
HFSgt: Look, if you don't get picked this year come back next year, we are always looking for good people.....
Compete and utter disillusion AGAIN. What do you have to do to get in the armed forces, i was offering myself and all they wanted was bull-neck gorillas with no personality and imagination.
So i never did apply again the following year, i sometimes look back and wished i did, maybe it would have been an adventure. I surely would have enjoyed the armed services, the self-discipline and organisation was second nature to me and i'm sure i would have excelled in my profession. But it never happened, i can't turn back time, and this is probably why now i am so into militaria, to make up for that missing piece of my life.
As a final part of this story i used to call into the local Army and Navy Stores in town often, here i bought a Navy square neck top and an RAF jacket, which i used to wear for the next few years, maybe it was my small way of mentally being attached to these services.
My collection - 14 Aug 2008
Welcome to my second post. This time i have made a short movie showing the main interest of my militaria collecting, Helmets.
I kinda got into it in a roundabout way. I bought my very first two helmets at a military re-enactment show in the summer of 2001, i was there taking photos of the event and was astounded at the diversity of traders and what one could buy from them; from swords to bayonets and rifles to medieval crossbows or second hand swedish ex-military underwear!! I thought i should buy something and i almost bought a deactivated SMLE rifle for a trivial £100, (oh how i wish i did, now), but i hesitated and eventually saw a stallholder with loads of boxes of 'stuff'. I dug deep and pulled out what i thought was a jerry helmet, and a nice 'american' type helmet; £20 quid each and they were mine, the seller even thru a swiss bayonet in for an extra tenner. SOLD!.
I took the helmets home and never really thought much about them, they eventually ended up into my mothers loft for 4 years whilst i sorted a new life out after my divorce. After going 'home' to pick up my last few bits from my mothers (inc my box of Airfix soldiers and my old game of 'Striker', ) i looked closely at the 2 helmets and decided to check them via 'Gods Gift' of the internet. This eventually, after a lot of googling, proved they were infact a Norwegian M1 clone and a Spanish Modelo 42, a lightweight version of the jerry squarehead. I was hooked by the thought of getting a version of the WW2 helmets of all the major combatants, and the advice and help available by forums like the 'MilitaryHelmetCollectorsClub' was invaluable. The next step was where to find them at a reasonable cost, there were no military antique shops nearby and virtually no shows in Scotland to buy a bargain, so it was to Ebay that i turned, and lo and behold there were 'thousands of em' (to borrow a quote from Zulu).
And so you can now see for yourself the current collection, unfortunately they are still boxed up and awaiting a dedicated room for display, when this will happen gawd only knows, so for now i have to have the odd 'appreciation day' when i get them out and remember why i collected them in the first place. I have catalogued and tagged each helmet for future reference, and the 70 odd helmets are probably worth about £2000 as a complete set. Not much in financial terms but priceless as artifacts from 2 world wars and the cold war period when the world stood on the brink, (have we passed the 'brink' yet, ??)
Here's the short movie for your enjoyment, and yes i know, i still have an old xbox, the xbox 360 is due in 2009.....
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=A0VAqe2vU6M
I kinda got into it in a roundabout way. I bought my very first two helmets at a military re-enactment show in the summer of 2001, i was there taking photos of the event and was astounded at the diversity of traders and what one could buy from them; from swords to bayonets and rifles to medieval crossbows or second hand swedish ex-military underwear!! I thought i should buy something and i almost bought a deactivated SMLE rifle for a trivial £100, (oh how i wish i did, now), but i hesitated and eventually saw a stallholder with loads of boxes of 'stuff'. I dug deep and pulled out what i thought was a jerry helmet, and a nice 'american' type helmet; £20 quid each and they were mine, the seller even thru a swiss bayonet in for an extra tenner. SOLD!.
I took the helmets home and never really thought much about them, they eventually ended up into my mothers loft for 4 years whilst i sorted a new life out after my divorce. After going 'home' to pick up my last few bits from my mothers (inc my box of Airfix soldiers and my old game of 'Striker', ) i looked closely at the 2 helmets and decided to check them via 'Gods Gift' of the internet. This eventually, after a lot of googling, proved they were infact a Norwegian M1 clone and a Spanish Modelo 42, a lightweight version of the jerry squarehead. I was hooked by the thought of getting a version of the WW2 helmets of all the major combatants, and the advice and help available by forums like the 'MilitaryHelmetCollectorsClub' was invaluable. The next step was where to find them at a reasonable cost, there were no military antique shops nearby and virtually no shows in Scotland to buy a bargain, so it was to Ebay that i turned, and lo and behold there were 'thousands of em' (to borrow a quote from Zulu).
And so you can now see for yourself the current collection, unfortunately they are still boxed up and awaiting a dedicated room for display, when this will happen gawd only knows, so for now i have to have the odd 'appreciation day' when i get them out and remember why i collected them in the first place. I have catalogued and tagged each helmet for future reference, and the 70 odd helmets are probably worth about £2000 as a complete set. Not much in financial terms but priceless as artifacts from 2 world wars and the cold war period when the world stood on the brink, (have we passed the 'brink' yet, ??)
Here's the short movie for your enjoyment, and yes i know, i still have an old xbox, the xbox 360 is due in 2009.....
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=A0VAqe2vU6M
Hello to all militaria junkies - 4 Aug 2008
My interest in Miltaria started when I was about 5 or 6 years old, way back in the mid-60's.
I recall cutting from the back of a cereal packet (Kelloggs Cornflakes or maybe Krispies??) some stand-up cards of Napoleonic cavalry men, there was about 6-7 different ones to collect as I recall, and I proudly had them on my windowsill for ages. I have since mentioned this to other friends and colleagues of the same interest but non can remember them, I surely never imagined them and out there somebody has proof !!
However moving on to my early teens i was an avid model maker, Airfix being the primary benefactor of my measly ten new pence a week pocket money. There were 1/12th? scale models of King Henry VIII, Napoleon, Cromwell, Julius Caesar, Black Prince, also aircraft of every description, my biggest single outlay was for the new 1/24th Harrier GR1 for the outrageous sum of £5.10. Add to that tanks, ships, dinosaurs, the Aurora collection of movie monsters, the Phantom of the Opera, the Forgotton Prisoner, The Mummy, Frankensteins Monster, and my favourite the Creature from the Black Lagoon, complete with glow in the dark webbed hands and feet...aahh the memories come flooding back....
This was of course just all boys toys, the closest i came to any real 'miltaria' was my dads paybook when he served in the Royal Tank Regt in the 1950's. Not very exciting I know, but aroundabout 1976 I was rumaging around the back yard of a recently deceased neighbour, known only as 'Sandy'. He was an old gentleman, a nice chap who always wore a red beret and had a little dog as a companion, however he must have passed away and his uneccessary worldy goods were just dumped in his backyard. There, just lying on the path was a silver cap badge, so i picked it up and took it home; the thing polished up well and i put it in my 'bits box' and forgot about it.
Years later i took it out and looked closely, a winged parachute stared back at me, after putting two and two together i realised this kindly old man must have been a trained killer who spent the war years fighting nazis and jumping out of airplanes. His red beret i never found, which now i regret, but moreover, i also wished i had more time as a kid to talk to the old guy and maybe listen to tales of derring-do and unknown heroes, alas maturity doesnt come until much later in life, if ever at all, and this old guys war tales went with him to the grave.
That was it really for about 20 years, college, marriage, kids, mortgages, career, divorce, all followed and really only in the last 6 or 7 years has the time and finances allowed me to rekindle my interests.
I recall cutting from the back of a cereal packet (Kelloggs Cornflakes or maybe Krispies??) some stand-up cards of Napoleonic cavalry men, there was about 6-7 different ones to collect as I recall, and I proudly had them on my windowsill for ages. I have since mentioned this to other friends and colleagues of the same interest but non can remember them, I surely never imagined them and out there somebody has proof !!
However moving on to my early teens i was an avid model maker, Airfix being the primary benefactor of my measly ten new pence a week pocket money. There were 1/12th? scale models of King Henry VIII, Napoleon, Cromwell, Julius Caesar, Black Prince, also aircraft of every description, my biggest single outlay was for the new 1/24th Harrier GR1 for the outrageous sum of £5.10. Add to that tanks, ships, dinosaurs, the Aurora collection of movie monsters, the Phantom of the Opera, the Forgotton Prisoner, The Mummy, Frankensteins Monster, and my favourite the Creature from the Black Lagoon, complete with glow in the dark webbed hands and feet...aahh the memories come flooding back....
This was of course just all boys toys, the closest i came to any real 'miltaria' was my dads paybook when he served in the Royal Tank Regt in the 1950's. Not very exciting I know, but aroundabout 1976 I was rumaging around the back yard of a recently deceased neighbour, known only as 'Sandy'. He was an old gentleman, a nice chap who always wore a red beret and had a little dog as a companion, however he must have passed away and his uneccessary worldy goods were just dumped in his backyard. There, just lying on the path was a silver cap badge, so i picked it up and took it home; the thing polished up well and i put it in my 'bits box' and forgot about it.
Years later i took it out and looked closely, a winged parachute stared back at me, after putting two and two together i realised this kindly old man must have been a trained killer who spent the war years fighting nazis and jumping out of airplanes. His red beret i never found, which now i regret, but moreover, i also wished i had more time as a kid to talk to the old guy and maybe listen to tales of derring-do and unknown heroes, alas maturity doesnt come until much later in life, if ever at all, and this old guys war tales went with him to the grave.
That was it really for about 20 years, college, marriage, kids, mortgages, career, divorce, all followed and really only in the last 6 or 7 years has the time and finances allowed me to rekindle my interests.
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