Unknown Pleasures... Time To Admit A Dirty Secret That Even Roger & Darren May Find Surprising
About the time I was first becoming aware of gaming in 1980 was about the time my parents were trusting me to go into Sheffield city centre on my own. Indeed it occurred shortly after my first encounter with a display of Citadel and Ral Partha miniatures in Hopkinson's toy shop on The Gallery, a series of first floor shops connected with walkways inn the Hay Market area of the city, an area at that time frequented by Punks at one end and Skinheads at the other, and a serious no-go area in the daytime for young Rockers like your correspondent and his at the time best mate 'Stanny' Staniforth.
Today's youth I don't think, can appreciate what the late 70s and early 80s were like. They were frankly, bloody lethal. You either had to be a good fighter, a fast runner or know where to run to locate some older and better fighters.
It was also at this time that I became vaguely aware of politics, left wing liberal arts (odd for someone who is certainly not much of a supporter of the political left, personal style (more of this later) and design - in particular bright primary colours, abstract and graphic styles and a love of textures be they visual or tactile.
Now, this was a few years before I met Roger, who, upon reading this might just splutter, laugh out loud or raise his eyebrow in a wry expression that can only be appreciated by someone who has seen it in person.
Even the learned and erudite Professor Darren Ashmore, who knows me as well as Roger may, give out a small gasp and a giggle .
Right...
Surprisingly, one of my favourite places to go when in town was not a games store at all. Hell, this was 1980 and high street stores were scarce. Games Workshop was still just shy of 2 years from arriving.
One of my favourite haunts was Rackhams, latterly House Of Fraser which, had a really chic (by 80s standards) coffee house and a 'Knobs & Knockers' franchise on one of the upper floors.
This company specialised in door handles and fittings, of an astounding variety and with a keen eye for design and quality. I was enthralled at the colours and varieties. The shiny bright plastic mouldings in ergonomic shapes, the beautifully hand enamelled handles, the.... Oh my, it moistens my gusset, even thinking of it.
The only place better was the clothing departments in Schofields about 100 yards away with the free jukebox and risk of getting hammered by some older New Romantic smoothies. One particular trio, each in a leather suit of a different hue (burgundy, blue and grey iirc) used to take great pleasure in trying to corner us in the lifts every Saturday, terrifying the life out of us.
Admittedly as we got bolder, we baited them. This generally involved two of us giving the posers some lip, whilst the other of our group held the lift doors open (having pressed the button which would take them either down into the bowels of the store or the top floor; both out of bounds to the public), dashing past them as they entered the enormous lift car to teach us a lesson.
Of course, as the doors closed, we waved to them before leaving them to explain to the staff why they were in a forbidden zone and why the lift had been held up. It was usually long enough for us to get to the jukebox, select a dozen rock and new wave tracks and perhaps listen to one before our nemeses returned and the world went pear shaped.
I digress...
I really started to get a feel for design, and over the years I would develop a fanatical love, or more precisely a yearning lust, for soft furnishings and ceramics as well as a respect for Scandinavian design. I don't mean that tat which IKEA touts, but serious hard core, minimalist design which cost a dragon's treasure trove but would last longer than you.
I never really indulged myself as the years passed. Frankly until I was 30 and managing (later owning) Dungeons & Starships in Sheffield, I had no money. We were, as I have said before, Third World poor - Really...
However, what that taught me was to buy things that were pleasing to the eye, which would last and moreover, it taught me to snatch any opportunity which presented itself. Up to now, this has been exercised mostly on artwork, but I have acquired a few choice items - cushions, coffee services and the like.
The odd thing is that when I get a taste for some retro games, I get an equally strong urge to look at 80s militant left wing art, and fondle some seriously good fabrics or stroke some quality glazed pottery.
And so it was that this morning, as I searched the internet for another Aberdeen Terrier (Scottie) to go with the four existing members of the Fackham Hall pack, I found a few interesting adverts for old models. Moreover, in the margins of the screen, I saw an advert for a small collection of Poole pottery from the time I was managing D&S, but which ticked all my retro styling boxes as well as having the tactile and visual keys which made it necessary for me to go and shower again and change my boxer shorts.
The items were local and the seller was happy to drive over at lunchtime and exchange them for a three figure sum. and so, treating this as some type of holistic, synchronicity-driven sign, I checked my safe and spent a little of the contents on 5 pieces of Poole 'Galaxy' ceramic ware:
And so, whilst some of my associates, may be referring to me as a 'Screaming Quent'. I think that Roger and Darren, who are men of taste and sensibility may be able to adjust to my coming out and and sharing this tale of forbidden fruit and unknown pleasures, in time being able to face me in public with smirk or raised eyebrow.
Incidentally, this is my favourite cushion weighing in at about 9lbs and being about 55cm square:
The smaller cushion was marginally less expensive but when I tell you that the larger was a 25th wedding anniversary gift from my wife, you'll appreciate that I look after it because she'll never spend that on a cushion again, I'm sure.
TTFN
Today's youth I don't think, can appreciate what the late 70s and early 80s were like. They were frankly, bloody lethal. You either had to be a good fighter, a fast runner or know where to run to locate some older and better fighters.
It was also at this time that I became vaguely aware of politics, left wing liberal arts (odd for someone who is certainly not much of a supporter of the political left, personal style (more of this later) and design - in particular bright primary colours, abstract and graphic styles and a love of textures be they visual or tactile.
Now, this was a few years before I met Roger, who, upon reading this might just splutter, laugh out loud or raise his eyebrow in a wry expression that can only be appreciated by someone who has seen it in person.
Even the learned and erudite Professor Darren Ashmore, who knows me as well as Roger may, give out a small gasp and a giggle .
Right...
Surprisingly, one of my favourite places to go when in town was not a games store at all. Hell, this was 1980 and high street stores were scarce. Games Workshop was still just shy of 2 years from arriving.
One of my favourite haunts was Rackhams, latterly House Of Fraser which, had a really chic (by 80s standards) coffee house and a 'Knobs & Knockers' franchise on one of the upper floors.
This company specialised in door handles and fittings, of an astounding variety and with a keen eye for design and quality. I was enthralled at the colours and varieties. The shiny bright plastic mouldings in ergonomic shapes, the beautifully hand enamelled handles, the.... Oh my, it moistens my gusset, even thinking of it.
The only place better was the clothing departments in Schofields about 100 yards away with the free jukebox and risk of getting hammered by some older New Romantic smoothies. One particular trio, each in a leather suit of a different hue (burgundy, blue and grey iirc) used to take great pleasure in trying to corner us in the lifts every Saturday, terrifying the life out of us.
Admittedly as we got bolder, we baited them. This generally involved two of us giving the posers some lip, whilst the other of our group held the lift doors open (having pressed the button which would take them either down into the bowels of the store or the top floor; both out of bounds to the public), dashing past them as they entered the enormous lift car to teach us a lesson.
Of course, as the doors closed, we waved to them before leaving them to explain to the staff why they were in a forbidden zone and why the lift had been held up. It was usually long enough for us to get to the jukebox, select a dozen rock and new wave tracks and perhaps listen to one before our nemeses returned and the world went pear shaped.
I digress...
I really started to get a feel for design, and over the years I would develop a fanatical love, or more precisely a yearning lust, for soft furnishings and ceramics as well as a respect for Scandinavian design. I don't mean that tat which IKEA touts, but serious hard core, minimalist design which cost a dragon's treasure trove but would last longer than you.
I never really indulged myself as the years passed. Frankly until I was 30 and managing (later owning) Dungeons & Starships in Sheffield, I had no money. We were, as I have said before, Third World poor - Really...
However, what that taught me was to buy things that were pleasing to the eye, which would last and moreover, it taught me to snatch any opportunity which presented itself. Up to now, this has been exercised mostly on artwork, but I have acquired a few choice items - cushions, coffee services and the like.
The odd thing is that when I get a taste for some retro games, I get an equally strong urge to look at 80s militant left wing art, and fondle some seriously good fabrics or stroke some quality glazed pottery.
And so it was that this morning, as I searched the internet for another Aberdeen Terrier (Scottie) to go with the four existing members of the Fackham Hall pack, I found a few interesting adverts for old models. Moreover, in the margins of the screen, I saw an advert for a small collection of Poole pottery from the time I was managing D&S, but which ticked all my retro styling boxes as well as having the tactile and visual keys which made it necessary for me to go and shower again and change my boxer shorts.
The items were local and the seller was happy to drive over at lunchtime and exchange them for a three figure sum. and so, treating this as some type of holistic, synchronicity-driven sign, I checked my safe and spent a little of the contents on 5 pieces of Poole 'Galaxy' ceramic ware:
The only thing which could have given me the same buzz, would have been a visit to my favourite supplier of domestic soft furnishings, where the price of a cushion can bring tears of pain and pleasure at the same time, as you caress the fabrics (or as I always do, simply thrust my head into the display) and read the price tag...
And so, whilst some of my associates, may be referring to me as a 'Screaming Quent'. I think that Roger and Darren, who are men of taste and sensibility may be able to adjust to my coming out and and sharing this tale of forbidden fruit and unknown pleasures, in time being able to face me in public with smirk or raised eyebrow.
Incidentally, this is my favourite cushion weighing in at about 9lbs and being about 55cm square:
The smaller cushion was marginally less expensive but when I tell you that the larger was a 25th wedding anniversary gift from my wife, you'll appreciate that I look after it because she'll never spend that on a cushion again, I'm sure.
TTFN
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