Parents

Kids don’t earn much, so they have to rely on the generosity of their parents when they want something. Unless you were unfortunate enough to work down a mine, or sold cocaine on your paper round, it’s more than likely that your folks lovingly splashed out to buy you your first computer. Doubtless, in order to secure this purchase from them, you filled their heads with all the old chestnuts…

“It’ll really help me with schoolwork.”

“There are loads of educational titles!”

“Of course it’s not JUST for playing games.”

Little did you know, the bearded man at the computer shop had already spun his twisted web of deceit to your parents, belching his endless promises of their children happily spending hours on an algebraic adventure.

Eventually, the pester power and lies resulted in you eagerly unwrapping your first computer - a memorable and life-changing moment. So how did you repay your parents’ generosity? Did you learn a foreign language on it? Did you practice your long division with it? No. You bought a shed-load of games.

Let’s not forget – for your parents, it was a tremendous leap of faith and a probably considerable sacrifice. At the time, neither you, your parents or indeed the bearded man in the computer shop truthfully knew the implications of owning a home computer. It was also an expensive gamble: on release in 1984, a Spectrum 48k cost £125, and a Commodore 64 would have set your folks back a staggering £229. A mere four years later, the Amiga 500 cost £599.

Soon after, the next purchase was a twin tape deck with high-speed dubbing. Not that you listened to music…

From giving you a couple of quid to spend in the arcades on a Saturday, to your £1 a week pocket money that would be surreptitiously squandered on a library of inevitably faulty cassette games, it was your parents that unwittingly empowered you to become an early trailblazer in the wonderful world of electronic entertainment, and you should remember that ultimately, it is your parents to whom you owe all those hours of fun to.

Now, every time you power up your computer or console, spare a thought for your poor parents, drunk as they were on the misplaced reassurances of providing academic advantages. Their best wishes were betrayed by the lure of Daley Thompson waggles and Attack Of The Mutant Camels marathons. The benefits weren’t immediately recognisable. Looking up diagrams of genitalia on Encarta doesn’t boost your IQ considerably, and joystick calluses don’t really make you a more articulate French speaker.

Uncle Clive knew all along…

Eventually, of course, their gamble paid off, but not in the way that was promised. Having learned how to set up a LAN game, I know my way around the guts of a machine. In fiddling around with Deluxe Paint all those years ago, I can transfer my abilities to Photoshop. I can type faster than most secretaries, and learn to use pretty much any new application without reading the manual. My reaction speeds have been enhanced to fighter pilot standards, and I dare say my mental agility has been greatly improved through the years of rotating Tetris blocks and solving lateral adventure game puzzles.

So thank you, parents the world over. Never, ever forget what they did, or take it – and them – for granted.

SWITH, December 2004.

Something to say? Click to comment!