1: Creak, creak, PLAP!

The rodent ramblings have set off my memory and some things have surfaced that need to be shared. I think this is roundabout the right place to put them.

Some of these may be slightly mixed memories, with events running together or peeling off into tangents, but hey, that's the beauty of nostalgia...

So, Thursday afternoon is upon us and the clock ticks slowly through another hour of quadratic equations. Finally, the bell rings, Mr Vincent releases us from captivity and we head for the stairs to descend once more into the real world. This Thursday is one of those magical ones, when despite the impending paper round I can spare five minutes to take the north gate from school rather than my usual southern exit and wander the long way round the loop to home. For today I need to call in at Spar and pick up the new copy of Crash. Then home to secure it safely in the bedroom before heading out again into the autumn chill.

This is Stevenage. Just thought you should know is all.

Pick up the weekly free-sheets from round the corner, thank God no leaflets today. Back home to load the old shopping trolley, slam some Human League into the Walkman and head off to the far end of town for the longest but most lucrative delivery round on the system. Two streets and three blocks of flats later I'm back home, four measly pounds tucked into the Black Plastic Horse and warmth from the radiator seeping back into my bones.

A couple more hours pass, dinner is consumed along with Lloyd Mangram's Forum - the rest will wait for later - and the geography homework for tomorrow has been finished off. Just time left before bed for another stab at the third part of the Golden Key of ACG. Later still, the right hand grasps the shaft of the Quickshot II firmly, thumb planted firmly on the fire button after the trigger finger went numb earlier. Left hand hovers over the sweaty rubber keyboard, ready with the Pick up/Drop key.

Creak, creak, creak. The sound of well worn leaf switches runs through my head in time with the bleeps coming from somewhere between the screen and my hands. Creak, creak, creak, bleep, bloop. Found it, that third part finally in my grasp. Now back to the start point. Creak, creak, creak. Damn, my chicken seems to be wearing down a bit too rapidly and I have no spare Serfs to play with now. Creak, creak, creak. Where is some food when you really need it? A-ha, it's up there in the corner. Creak, creak, PLAP! Crunch. Blorp. Game Over. The blasted suckers on the base of the stick have let go at just the wrong moment. Joystick has parted company with desk, cannoned into Alphacom 32 printer and attempt to remove hand from collision at the speed of light only compounded the problem. Atic Attack claims another joystick.

That's like porn to you and me, that is.

But, all is not totally lost for this afternoon's paper round has proved the point. Winter is approaching and a new coat is required. Tomorrow after school we will be going to Stevenage, which means if I can choose AND get agreement on a style quickly enough we will be able to visit THAT shop up by the bus station and the black plastic horse can relinquish the cost of a new stick of joy.

Time for a quick blast of something on the keyboard only? Yes, but no. Yes for the playing but no for the loading. Oh well, plenty of new reviews to work through when tucked under the duvet. Time for an early night I think.

And then Friday rolls around. School drags, like many Fridays do. Although Chemistry seems to be another week where we get to make hydrogen and pop it over the burners so that perks things up a bit. Finally the bell goes and before we know it we're strapped into the Hilman Hunter (estate, Red) and heading for shops. Park. Look at coats; choose one that lets the hood be tucked away when not needed to reduce bullying potential. Sleeves are not detachable after someone in another class had theirs liberated and chucked onto the field in front of a lawn-mowing tractor. Pockets are big enough for a US Gold double cassette case. Oh, and it should be pretty warm too.

Time is still available so round we go to the computer shop. Hmm, some new sticks in the selection. Like the look of the Kempston Competition Pro still, but experience with Howard's proves it to be a bit uncomfortable. Plus no suckers to clamp to the desk. Hello, what's this? A new and improved QSII? With Microswitches? They should be a bit better for longevity and also accuracy I'm sure. Decision made, black plastic horse raided, deal done.

For the journey home the front seat is relinquished to the younger brother as a treat for him (well, he didn't get a new coat). This is not a problem today as I have a box to open and plastic ties to unwind. Hmm, feels just the same as before but, oooooh, nice clicky noise when moving. Complete with a more definite action when sliding into the corners. The decision on which game to try it with has been made.

Ahh, the cassette deck, the old WHSmith logo, the b&w telly from our 'Homes Of The Future' era:
it's all lovely.

Thus, while dinner is being prepared the Spectrum goes on. The new joystick is plugged into the AGF Protocol 4 and the switch set to Kempston. Suckers are lightly moistened and splat, the whole stick is hurled at the desk to create a firm and stable stick shifting environment. In goes the tape from the sturdy, plastic yellow-sleeved case and after a quick Load "", Yie Ar Kung Fu is on its way to the television. Read another chunk of Robin Candy's playing tips while the game loads then press a few numbers to select the Joystick and start the game.

And it plays like a dream. Click, click, click. Before I know it Buchu is defeated and Fan is flapping her weapon at me. Click, click, click. We are in an oriental heaven. Click, click, click. Little brother Richard has his turn and also beats his previous score. Click, click, PLAP! Hmm, still not got the suckers sorted out then... Never mind Saturday is ahead of us and the forecast is for rain.

SIMONB, March 2003.

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