Memory Lane Part 17: It's 1981, Saturday, 9AM - I've Had My Weetibix (And a Bacon Butty)

 Well, with over 26,000 hits on this blog last month, I suppose I better say a big thank you, and get cracking on September...

Saturdays were always fun, once I hit my 14th year as I was given a key to my parent's home and was allowed into town on my own, without question. Of course, normally I would be with Alan  and latterly Alan & Craig 'Stav' Stainrod - more on this individual at a future time.

I would sometimes bump into my parents in the city centre as they did their shopping, but generally I was in a world of my own, exploring what was a seriously interesting underbelly of what was, back then a great city.  

In the very early 80s, we still had proper youth tribes. Whilst there was not the gang violence we see today, it was 'exhilarating' just getting around town as I have mentioned in previous posts in this series.

Alan and I were finding our feet as 'Rockers' or as many of our school colleagues would have it 'Fuckin' Hippies'. Alan's older brother Dave was a Biker, so we had a decent role model and, locally we were probably safer than might be expected in an area which had a good smattering of Rude Boys, Skins, Mods and the evolving 'Townies'. The Rock fraternity was a small and tight one.

Initially, I followed the pattern and listened to Iron Maiden, The Quo, Saxon, Whitesnake, a touch of Sabbath, but that would mellow out into a lifelong love of Rush, Marillion, Jethro Tull and Yes as I realised that these were the music of the gaming classes.

Fashions were still very much in flux, and I wore the obligatory denim jacket with studs, embroidery and band patches, liberally doused with patchouli oil, tight jeans - these were just starting to evolve from traditional stiff 'drainpipes' with a coloured piping down the outside seams, to early stretch denim - Iron Maiden T-shirt, picked up from one of those custom printing places which seemed to abound back then, and  probably a cheap fabric baseball boot. It would be a couple of years before I got my first pair of Hi-Tec 'Tecs', that quintessential baseball boot of the Rock fan in the 80s until Nike came along and ruined everything.

My hair was not the veritable lion's mane it would become a couple of years later, and indeed, today, as I have just avoided a hairdresser for 2 years to see if I can still grow such a mass at 57 years old - and I can indeed, and fuck you, if you are one of those people who have alweys judged me by my luxuriant locks. You know who you are...

 Before Games Workshop (no not that pallid, load of toss which now bears the name with no shame) became the anchor stone of my life, it was just one of the places we visited on a Saturday.

We would set off at 9am having stuffed our faces with as much food as possible, looking sharp and smelling good with whatever we had managed to save from school dinner money and £3 pocket money. By 1984 I wouuld be earning more painting minis after school, than I earned each week in my first job, but that was in the future. 

We would walk down Jenkin Road, one of the steepest hillls in Sheffield, and grab the number 4 bus, for 2p into town, arriving by 09:30 in the Haymarket area to begin a day of what latterly became known as 'mooching about'. We sometimes caught a train when we were loaded. It cost about 25p but back then, Brightside staion was a request stop adjacent to the road where we caught the bus. Variety is as they say, the spice of life.

We also sometimes went over to Rotherham, but that was only to grab a record or two and a quick scuffle around the shelves of Gallery Models, and it wasn't the norm, so let's focus on Sheffield.

We would jump from the bus and then up the steps into the Castle Market (built upon the ruins of Sheffield Castle - what are the chances) to Roulette Records. I was a bit of a musical martinet despite my previous statement of Rock adherence, and I was very much a connoisseur of the early Adam & The Ants singles. It was at Roulette where I'd find all of those early titles including Young Parisians and Deutscher Girls, along with the other bits of New Wave and picture discs (if I have to explain 'picture discs to you, you shouldn't be reading this blog - fuck off:! :-) ) by Asia and other forgotten 80s classics.

Now, this is a Saturday before I met a massive circle of new friends and gamers, and it's probably the purest take on how my world looked at the start, when I was still relatively 'mundane' or if you prefer, 'normal' - relatively...

From Roulette, we'd pass through the Castle Market  looking at the two toy shops which sold tat -thru-middle-price toys. You sometimes found interesting model kits from Eastern Europe for pennies and, as we both enjoyed making kits, bargains could be had. 

We then ran up the staircase which led to the Gallery, a - well, gallery, running above and around the Castle Market, where Hopkinson's Toys was located (see earlier instalments in the series). Hopkinson's was where I'd first seen Citadel Miniatures and indeed, where I bought my first figures, but it also sold some seriously out of production Hornby stuff, and, as Alan and I were both into 00 scale railways at the time, it was possible that roleplaying figures could end up in third place on the shopping list after records and toy trains (I know - scandalous).

I was a known quantity in Hokinson's so, I didn't get any hassle for being a kid without adults in tow. Mr H did good business with my nan all year round and I had always been brought up to be polite and to chat with Mr Hopkinson and his son, making a visit a really good vibe.

This would take us to around 10:45, at which point we would be thinking about getting off the gallery as the older punks and skinheads would be emerging, blinking against the light like post-modern troglodytes and looking for some easy pickings, possibly in the shape of young, fresh Hippies. 

There were severeal external staircases from the Gallery to street level, so, depending on the lay of the land after a quick look out of the door, we could either take the scenic route, or a simple dash left or right (usually left) and down a closer stair well and thence to freedom...

We'd wander up through the city, stopping in at the large branch of Boots the chemist, because, being a chemist, they also stocked games for the ZX81 and, later on it would also be a good place to find the Fighting Fantasy series in their small book department.

We may also go into Rackhams (latterly, House of Fraser) which was a hidden gem of 80s contemporary styling and it's probably where I first found my love of cushions and soft furnishings, browsing amd molest.., I mean caressing those wonderful, geometric fabric designs. But, the real joy for me was to wander through the aisles of the 'Knobs & Knockers' franchise which was on the top floor of Rackhams, offering a mind-boggling range of door furniture. And so, I would spend a pleasant 15 minutes caressing knockers and stroking knobs, being particularely drawn to the then cutting edge designs, colours and materials. I swear, you could have filmed an episode of anything from Blakes 7 to Agony on the third floor of Rackhams.

Once we had maybe popped into to W.H Smiths on Fargate, ostensibly for a similar reason as going into Boots, we'd skip along to Beatties Models facing the Peace Gardens (where could be found more Hippies than you could shake a joss stick at, this being not that long since the 70s, and where you could see some fine examples of the Afghan coat which I have never managed to own - note to self).

Beartties was where, as outlined previously, I saw my first 'proper' selection of games and the Grenadier Gold Line AD&D figure range in it's beautiful boxes, which no other company has matched - Ever!

But, these were £7.95 a box and well above the 25p per figure I'd been paying for my baggies of Citadel at Hopkinsons. Oddly, Beatties never carried the Citadel ranges. 

I was drawn to the 2D cardboard miniatures on offer from Standard Games, beautifully drawn and coloured by Gary Chalk, and in fact all of the Standard Games products which, along with TSR aand SPI products were all on offer at Beatties, although much of the stock was kept in locked display cabinets, giving it a whiff of the forbidden to 14 year old Mark and Alan.

It was, as I have said previously, where we saw our first boxed roleplaying games and 'boardgames' in the non-Milton Bradley sense, and I really can't convey the sense of wonder and curiosity these beautifully illustrated boxes, kept under lock and key, engendered.

I don't think that you could get that feeling now, in a time when 'Pop Culture' has replaced the 'Underground Gamer Cult'. I certainly don't think that I would take up gaming now, because there is a terrible mix of mass production, over-hype and let's be honest, some real wankers in the hobby who have no sense of the history and freshness of those early days.

Beatties was a dangerous money trap for us, as it was the major source for model railways, models in general and radio control cars, which would have a short-lived pull on us in 1983. 

Assuming that we had any money left, we'd then walk down the street to the Moorfoot pedestrianised precinct and the 4 floors of wonder that was the Redgates department store. When I say department store, I mean it was a toy shop, with a department fror each brand or type of toy. It was fucking huuuuge.

Before Games Workshop, this was probably the biggest draw, even greater than Beatties, for kids in search of a 'fix' of model kits, model railways, Scalextric... You name it, they stocked it. We even found a small selection of RPGs, including some stuff that was even hard to get in 1981/82. It was here that I found a Runequest 'Gateway Bestiary' when I had found everything else RQ in Games Workshop.  It was here I saw my first packaged TSR dice sets, which to this day make me tingle when I recall them.

By now, we would have burned off the stored calories from breakfast, and so, we would either grab half a french stick, slaked with butter, filled with screamingly hot chips (fries if you are not from around here) all topped off with a piquant (and cheap) tomato ketchup, which could handily, be grabbed from a little food cabin located on a back street adjacent to one of the side entrances to Redgates, nestled underneath a multi-story car park, which itself offered a great place to eat lunch with views across the Steel City. plus, if you were lucky, you could drop a red hot chip, 4 stories onto the sensitive pate of a passing Skinhead. A direct hit could lead to a whole new set of interesting life choices and meditations on the mortality of a 14 year-old Hippy, should the synapses of the target, be sufficiently snappy to make them look up faster than said Hippy could duck back behind the parapet of Castle Car Park.

Lunch and entertainment taken, we might just mooch around the various department stores, trying to catch the eye of the gangs of girls who populated the fashion departments, like giggling, mini-skirted Sirens or bubblegum chewing, back-combed Harpies.

A favourite place was Schofields department store (now long gone) back in the Haymarket area, because in the fashion department, there was a juke box, with a fantastic range of music, that was free, and added texture to the teenage shopping experience.

*Now, I think about it, we often went in here with Andrew Moffat and Russell Norman (not gamers, but sometimes, we'd all do the 'mooch')*

There was totty-a-plenty and a well groomed young Rocker could, by looking a bit racier than the average 'Townie' but not as rough-arsed as the younger Punks, (and a mile more appealing than Skinheads obviously) be pretty much certain of getting that week's fix of flirtation, a quick snog in a stairwell (sometimes) or at least an hour of entertainment, 'chasing the ladies' or indeed being chased by the ladies.

Another sport du jour, was to wind up a group of older 'Townies' who, this being the early 80s, all wore the same 'New Romantic' suit in a different colour, and hair which must have wiped out a few hundred acres of ozone layer to maintain, with the hairspray required.

What you had to do, was beat them to the lifts, and hit the top floor or basement, just before the Townies got in, hold the door for them and then look a bit puzzled as to why you were there and step out.

Your partner in crime would be in the other lift...

The Townies would press the floor they wanted, BUT, would firstly have to go to the floor you pressed.

At the top, your mate would step out of their lift, the button pre-pressed for the opposite end of the scale. The older Townies would step out, realise they were not where they wanted to be, but by then your mate would be in their lift and the doors closing.

Townies step into the vacated lift and end up somewhere else. You could do this quite a few times if there was a few of you and not all clad in denim and patchouli.

Russ Norman was the maestro of holding the door open, and asking the Townies if they had seen an old lady heading for the lift - he was waiting for his Nan and simply had to wait for her lest she get lost in Schofields. He did it with full on innocent countenance. 

Another trick, was to know how to clear the memory of the jukebox, bia a few key presses. Again, this was a Russ Norman trick, quickly adopted by all members of the assault team.

The Townies would load it with loads of stuff like Spandau Ballet etc and the set off towards the clouds of girls and try to act smooth. Meanwhile, we would hit the code, and add as many Heavy Metal, Punk and New Wave tracks as we could find on the machine and retire behind some clothes rails to watch the smooth bastards lose their seduction soundtrack and get Number Of The Beast by Iron Maiden or At The Edge by Stiff Little Fingers.

It became, for a while a weekly running battle, and we did get cornered by them in the lifts. They didn't beat the crap out of us, but amazingly scared the shit out of us, ruffled my hair and told us 'Now fuck off!'. That nby the standards of the times was amazingly lucky.

We also found 'Exit Books' just off West Bar, and a couple of minutes brisk walk from Schofields . Exit was run a by a 'studenty' looking guy who was that stereotypical caricature of the earnest radical 'Lefty'.

It stocked equally Left Wing propaganda and literature as well as 'Underground' publications and comics. It was here I first saw the amazing illustrations of Robert Crumb. It was a grubby little store, and even more alien than Games Workshop would seem, which is saying something. It was a remenant of the 70s, but in the politically charged early 80s, with Labour still reeling from Margaret Thatcher's landslide victory, it was hanging in there, waving a defian red flag through the fug of second hand mung beans and lentils. But it was an education.

Our parents would probably have had conniption fits had they known where we were ending up on Saturdays, but for us it was all grist for the experiential mill.

In Sheffield, we also had two excellent art galleries (they are far from that now) and a fine old museum (see Part 16A) where we also often spent time. Both Alan and I were heavily into art and it was on these visits that I first came into contact with the work of Bridget Riley, leading to Gene Davis, as well as (at the opposite end of the spectrum, a love of 17th century Dutch portraiture and still life.

In the Weston Park museum, was an amazing little cafe, reached via a brutalist concrete staircase, which cast shadows and light in interesting patterns as you followed your nose and the smell of coffee, hummus (or 'that vegetarian shit' as it was then - I love hummus!) and wholegrain toast. In my mind's eye I can still see that stairwell and smell that cafe. When we started buying games and figures, and I was filthy rich from painting figures, we'd go there with our purchases to look at art and drool over the day's acquisitions. The odd thing was, that despite the tribal attitudes of the times, art galleries and plkaces of culture was almost holy ground and people who would not give each other a moment's thought or possiblty give them a kicking, would sit and talk about art.

It taught me a lot about the power of art, and that staircase was one of the thing which engendered in me a lasting love of Brutalist architecture.

Once we had 'filled our boots' with experience, we'd walk back through the city to our bus stop, catching the 39 bus, which took 45 minutes rather than the usual 10 to 15, but which dropped us literally 20 yards from our respective homes, whilst giving us more time to chat animatedly and reflect on what we had done and what we had bought. 

Getting into gaming changed our patterns quite a bit, but that was how it went. I'll look at that somewhere down the line, but this was weekend pattern was what started it all, leading to the mid-week vist to Virgin Records and the discovery of Games Workshop in 1982...

Well, I better go an do some work, but I hope that you have found something interesting in this ramble back through the mists of time.

 

TTFN