Come ON.... IT'S SATURDAY! Finish your Weetabix And Let's Catch The Bloody Bus...
It's 1982, a crisp November day; a Saturday which means that I am off
into town with Alan Staniforth (after cadging some of his patchouli oil
for my oh-so-new looking C&A jacket) to visit the latest shop to
attract us, the recently opened Games Workshop on The Moor, that
pedestrianised shopping area at the far end of the city centre at the
end of which is the Manpower Services Commission building, a red brick
ziggurat in that 'fuck you all' style of architecture so beloved of
those raving lunatics put into power by the type of people who would
stick a red rosette on a milk bottle and vote for it, back then.
But politics are not on my agenda as I am 14 and about 12 months into
this new hobby I've found called roleplaying games, and the close
relative wargaming. They were yet to become 'gaming' and were at that
time two completely separate worlds which you had to negotiate very
carefully indeed.
So, let's hop on the number 4 bus from Tyler Street and pay our 2p fare,
finding a seat at the front of the bus upstairs, where we can get a
good view of the blackened shapes of the steel works which line Carlisle
Street almost into the city centre. The denim jacket festooned with
patches declaring my tastes in rock and a rather racy 5 metal studs is
dropped over the periscope which allows the driver to see upstairs from
the cab via a convex mirror. This is not done because we are going to
vandalise a bus, sniff glue or partake in any other mischief, we just
think it's a great seat and besides, the bus driver will be frustrated
that he can't see upstairs, and that seems to us to be a blow for
freedom against the SYPTE.
Well, that was a fast trip, and we alight in the Castle Market area...
...where we quickly see if there's anything new from Joan Jett, Tygers Of Pan Tang or Iron Maiden, before getting in the lift which goes to the Gallery, a series of shops on the top of the market. which connect via two bridges to the upstairs entrances of Woolworths and British Home Stores, but for us it's Hopkinson's Toys a proper old school toy shop where Stanny and I buy model kits, model railways stuff and where, in 1981, we first came across Citadel and Ral Partha miniatures, as well as a few other interesting but unfathomable items which, sparked an interest in gaming, without us really knowing much about it all. Old Mr Hopkinson didn't know about them either, but as they were models and the nice rep' from a place called Citadel Miniatures in Newark assured Mr H they'd sell (and they did), he decided to take a chance, and they are crammed in no particular order on a free standing display rack just to the left of the counter, because there are certain youths who would filch as many as possible to sell to mates, unless they are nicking the various tubes of glue instead, to sniff and get a primitive high, before shouting abuse at passers-by in the paved shopping area below, perhaps 'gobbing' on a passing hippy, and eventually turning on themselves as the glue runs out and they start to 'come down' in an aggressive, drooling finale.
But by now, Stanny and I are going around the gallery (watching out for Punks and Skins of course), looking longingly down at the entrance to Rebels rock nightclub where Stanny's older brother goes with his mates (we are assured that it's the place to go after the Wappentake - a serious rock boozer which even at 18, I found a bit much for my tender nerves), past the upper entrance of BHA and across a steel footbridge, leaping down entire flights of stairs because it makes a tremendous 'CLANG!' noise as you land. We cut through the back door of C&A, drop down the stairs to the 'Clockhouse' maternity wear department in the basement and through the glass doors into The Hole In The Road...
We look at the fish tank in the wall, and then go across and up to the left, jog up the escalator and into Rackhams department store because I have developed a taste for Knobs & Knockers, a franchise selling wondrous selections of bright door fittings, to which I have an attraction which even 38 years later I cannot explain. Stanny indulges me, and whilst I paw at a rather nice gloss red coat hook, he ogles the female assistants, before we jump down the flights in the back stairwell, out onto High Street and into Boots The Chemist, where we run down the stairs, into the basement, to look at what games they have for the ZX81 and to see if there are any new Fighting Fantasy books, to which we have become addicted since Warlock Of Firetop Mountain hit the shelves in August. Hang on, it's 9:30... OK, out of the basement doors, up the stairs from the subway and onto the paved shopping area which is Fargate:
We ignore W.H Smith today, but I do want to quickly nip into Hallmark because it was Halloween a couple of weeks ago, and they are selling off the Snoopy seasonal stuff, and I get a 'Great Pumpkin' biscuit cutter for 30p, being an addict when it comes to Peanuts and American popular culture in general.
Next we hit Pinstone Street and Beatties for our second 'fix' of the day...
...where we have not yet clashed with the fearsome Geoff, manager of the branch who would later be the cause of me being grounded - for no fucking reason, I might add.
We'd found that Beatties had a fine stock of roleplaying games at the far end of the shop, around to the right where the Tamiya radio controlled cars were, after Stanny started to take an unnatural interest in such things. Previously we'd been over at the other side of the shop looking at model railways and had never had cause (yes if you were not interested in something, why even deign to go the 15 feet into that part of the shop?) to peruse that desk.
We coo and ooh at the games in the glass cabinets and the boxes of Grenadier Solid Gold Line figure sets which are an eye watering £7.95 per set due to high import costs and which it will be another year before I have spare money for such things.
Then it's down Pinstone Street, down The Moor to our target for the days, operations:
Great nostalgia. I never lived in Sheffield, but my Gran used to take me from Killamarsh on the bus through Intake to Pond Street. I remember the fish tank, and of course Redgates, although we spent more time in the Sheaf market for my Gran.
ReplyDeleteAnother entertaining update as always