Coming To Terms With The Present, Ghosts Of Christmas Past & The Art Of 'The Mooch'

 Sorry for the lack of posts, but it's been  trying time in the wake of the passing of the man whose son I was. I've really had to get my head straight and fight down some really dificult emotions and come to terms with the fact that I have no sense of loss

The funeral was exceedingly 'low rent' for a man whose father was on the design team of the English Electric Lightning, and I felt that 'simple' should not mean that it was more low key than that of Ebenezer Scrooge in 'A Christmas Carol'.

14 people gathered at the crematorium including two neighbours, the parents of my brother's girlfriend (of whom my parents 'had opinions') and two estranged cousins fresh from the woodwork with their spouses. My sister did not attend and to be honest it was a toss of the coin for me, truth be told

The man himself arrived in a transit van with class sides in a coffin which looked like it had come from IKEA, was wheeled in and placed on the bier.

3 songs were played, NOBODY gave a eulogy and then after sitting there in absolute silence (with the exception of  one of the long lost cousins muttering to their partners, we were all ushered from the building. And thus ended 7 decades which appear to have been of no consequence. 

I was on what I think was pretty good (not perfect) behaviour, sitting with my wife at the back... Last in and last out, and my parting words are my business and nobody else's. 

And so the family fortune ( I say this with a wry smile), such as it is falls into the hands of my brother, who, if he is careful, should be able to avoid getting a job for another decade, but that as they say is another story.

I've not cried, and don't believe I will. As I indicated earlier, I just have absolutely zero emotion. 

Something is nagging at the back of my brain, something is troubling me, but I can't put a name to it yet. I will, once I get the Christmas period out of the way, put some time into looking at records, histories and memories and get my solicitor to start to earn their pay.

So, it's been a week when I have been reflecting on the Christmases of days gone by, which hashad the effect of brightening me somewhat.

Reflecting on Christmases past, it was also a lot different back then…

Of course there was the obligatory school Christmas party/disco when you could score a snog with a girl who’d not normally acknowledge you or even better that shy girl or girls who got the guts p to make a pass at you, and then freedom for a couple of weeks, which meant that there was a lot of time for painting, buying and gaming with figures.

Christmas Eve was traditionally a day for 'The Mooch', a grand processional around the game and model stores with which our city was blessed - and that was a lot of stores, let me tell you.

May favourite companions for said activity were Darren, Roger & Martin because they were great fun to spend time with, intelligent, funny and all different personalities, connected by the twin towers of gaming and music.

One particularly memorable Mooch, saw the gang down to Darren, Martin and I, and in those days there was a free bus service connecting either end of the city centre (Castle Market & The Moor) , known as the City Clipper. In the 80s they went from traditional single deckers to the Bendy Bus with three sets of doors which you could board and dismount from as you saw fit, because of course it was free. You pressed a button and the doors opened.

This particular day, Darren was wearing an East German officer's cap and I think a leather jacket, whilst Martin and I were in army surplus jackets and fully wrapped shemaghs.

We flagged down the Clipper at a less used stop and Darren instructed the bemused driver (who got the joke) to 'Take us to The Moor'. We then positioned ourselves, one at each set of doors, and tried to look like  members of one of the many European Terror groups much in vogue in the 70s and 80s. Darren was at the front, the 'acceptable face' of the Gamer's Popular Front. When we got to our stop, we hit the buttons, Darren walking down the stairs but Martin and I exiting with a leap and 'commando rolling' across the payment.

I will reiterate that the driver got the joke. These were simpler times and kids were not radicalized as they are today, unless it was to turn to Runequest from A&D.

Christmas Eve saw the Games Workshop staff (this was the pre-corporate bullshit era) in fancy dress, and just a tad more tolerant of the Limpets for a few hours. The girls would generally be dressed as rather magnificently tarty fairies - much to the pleasure of the majority of the Limpets, whilst the lads would do something fun, such as create Ghostbusters outfits with home made proton packs, that could fire 'beams' of the spray streamer in a can that was all the rage back then. Do they still make that stuff? It could be fun if used irresponsibly...

Before 1982 and the opening of GW, whereafter I found other gamers than my school mates, we'd not be in the store all day, but once my social circle went ballistic, I'd be there until about 3PM, sometimes later. I wasn't cool enough (or old enough) then to be invited to the pub with the GW staff - BOOO!

Lunch would be a french sbaguette, stuffed with chips and tomato ketchup from a tiny little sandwich kiosk in the base of the multi story carpark behind the legendary 'Redgates' a toy shop for which Shefield was famous and was destroyed by London toy emporium 'Hamleys' which opened just down the road, killing Redgates before finally disappearing up it's own arse after a fraction of the time that the local store had served Sheffield. I and many other gamers will never forgive Hamleys.

Redgates had RPGs before GW ever came to the city (as did Beatties of London), the best selection of models (including the first Macross kits we'd ever seen), Action Men, Star Wars figures, and... Well listen, if it was a toy, they stocked it, and did so in bucketloads.

Dear readers, we are talking 4 floors - A goddamn department store which was packed to the rafters with toys. When I was much younger it was where I went for my dressing up costumes, Pelham puppets and teddy bears. At 13 and beyond, it was everything above, plus paints, Britains soldiers, Cyborg & Muton, Mobile Action Command, Micronauts... I could go on, but my heart is racing. 

We generally took lunch up on to the roof of the aforementioned car park and sat eating the ginormous carbohydrate boost we'd need to get through to the evening (more of this later) looking out over the city. 

Then it was over to the road Redgates via the back doors, up to Beatties, down to Hopkinsons and then a final whistle stop visit to Woolworths to look at the latest music we'd found, taking our lives in our hands passing the assorted punks and skinheads who gathered outside the back entrance. Yes, I know that we could have gone a safer route, but there were big staircases between the floors and if you went in the back way you entered that vast staircase and could:

 1. Ricochet a rubber ball you'd picked up for 10p in Hopkinsons.

 2. Test the latest 'high impact' dice that Lisa B had convinced you you needed when you were in GW (previous blogs have covered the testing we gave our dice in car park stair wells) .

3. Test your mettle by leaping down entire flights to the spacious landing below with a satisfying slamming sound that echoed up and down the stair well, as the flashing lights left your vision and the pain left your knees.

Returning briefly to chip butties (thats a a sandwich of well buttered bread product filled with fried potatoes and tomato ketchup) it was one of these which was the cause of the worst indigestion I've ever had one year which, lasted from Christmas Eve until the 28th of December, ruining my track record for consuming multiple plates at the Christmas and Boxing Day lunches. It was also the reason I had two of my lanternas sunk by Alan Staniforth on Christmas Eve as we stuffed our faces with comestibles and listened to Peter Gabriel's first album 'Car' in my bedroom.

Christmas Eve at our house was a big buffet for the family and assorted friends of mine who were 'wise' to the wide selection of foods that my Mum had spent 8-10 hours preparing, and who, had tagged along, knowing there'd be a good spread and that because no mother can bear to see a growing lad weep at the sight of a large pork pie and a 10 foot buffet table.

After we had stuffed ourselves, we might play a game or go out onto the quiet streets if the weather was suitable cold and clear, perhaps to meet other friends male and female and maybe 'get off' with one of the local girls who were curious of our long hair and denim jackets covered in patches declaring our allegiance to 3 dozen rock bands, and who it turned out years later were competing to see who'd snogged more of the local rock fraternity at a time when it was considered to be an edgy and daring pastime.

We also knew that Steve Roberts, the then chairman of Sheffield Wargames Society, would probably be 'having a do' (as he also did at New Years Eve), and because he lived a couple of streets away, we'd drop in to soak up some atmosphere.

Then, it was a series of declarations of friendship and  'merry Christmas' before going our separate ways and 2 hours (at the most), sleep because we simply could not wait to see what was under the Christmas tree in the morning.

Christmas Day, rarely brought me anything gaming related, because my parents didn't understand or wish to waste money on RPGs, but I did get loads of stuff such as Adam & The Ants albums, Aramis, tabletop and handheld electronic games - certainly more loot than my school friends (what few I had) ever did. But alas, D&D and my growing collection of historical miniatures, were never provided by my parents.

After the Christmas holidays, the entire posse would regroup (although some of us did get together over Christmas) and life would resume. One year I managed to get grounded for three weeks (see my book) which led to a late return to the wargames club circuit, which coincided with my historic first meeting with Darren, which was the beginning of an almost 4 decade long friendship after he had undergone 'corrective therapy'.

And now to the coming year...

At present, the plan is a trio of 28mm armies for Swordpoint in the form of Teutonic, Russian and Mongol. As is my way,  I'll be sending them away to be painted, and sorting the basing myself.

The idea is that they all fought each other at some stage, and as Roger noted, allow a nice little 'round robin' campaign to be played.

I'm going to also pick up a few Star Frontiers adventures and try to get some role playing games underway.

I'm not planning for any shows whatsoever in 2021 so all of my funds will be directed into specific projects rather than pooled for hitting bring & buy stalls.

And so, as it is Christmas Day, I will wish all the best for the season and hope that we can all have a better 2021.

TTFN