Hallo Spaceboy

I was two when the space age began with the Sputnik 1 launch and I've been fascinated with space all my life. 

As a lad I watched anything and everything to do with space that I could. I followed all the ups and downs. Whilst for many the moon landings were the most interesting I don’t think anything can rival the excitement of the Apollo 8 mission. I remember watching and being so enthralled. It made my Christmas. Obviously the moon landings were important and awe inspiring. I would sit, mouth open, as I watched the blurry black and white pictures of the astronauts stepping down onto a different stellar body. 

I used to draw lots of rockets and spacecraft as a kid. Fireball XL5 was my favourite I seem to remember. I also collected pictures and cuttings about various missions into space. Plus I had an Action Man space capsule and the large Airfix Saturn V rocket that I built from a kit. 

Occasionally space features in my art. The oldest thing I have is a linocut of an astronaut that I produced in the late seventies/early eighties. In recent years I’ve drawn Valentina Tereshkova and more recently I’ve recorded a couple of space inspired tunes that I’ve also made videos for. I’ll put examples below. 

If you were born around the same time as me and you are creative I’m sure you couldn’t help be influenced by such a major change in our lives. And how did we manage before non-stick frying pans?

Nature’s Wonderland

One thing that I’ve always been thankful for was growing up in a household where books were always there. I think that was mostly down to my mother's influence. Books meant learning and learning meant advancement. Mother also made sure we were all library members from a very early age. I am grateful for books being in my life.

I only own one book from my early childhood. I think it was a hand-me-down. I had an uncle who was only seven years older than me and it probably belonged to him. The book is called Nature’s Wonderland and dealt with an eclectic mix of what it considered to be the wonders of the natural universe. There’s no date or price on it, but judging by the quality and the style of the few colour pages, I would put at early/mid fifties.

As a young boy it fascinated me with what truly were wonders as far as I was concerned. It introduced me to the Northern Lights, the giant redwood tree, stalactites and stalagmites, and things in outer space. My interest in space travel and astronomy were fired at an early age and have never gone away. All exciting stuff for a lad whose world was a council estate in a Suffolk market town.I guess that’s why I’ve hung on to it all my life. I still occasionally look through it with fond memories even now. It’s a bit battered and has generally been mistreated over the years but I try to take care of it these days. In monetary terms it’s worth very little which makes it all the more valuable to me.

This man broadened my horizons

AJS**

This is my maternal grandfather. He was a serious, studious and bigotted man. Born in Sunderland he was a Mackem although he would have never claimed that title, in fact he would have probably disowned it. He was the sort of person that always wanted to better himself, as he saw it. He and his wife, my mother’s parents, hadn’t done too badly for themselves.

Grandad joined the Royal Navy before the first world war, possibly lying about his age, and that was his job until he was invalided out during the second world war. He had been a wireless operator and had served mostly, from what I gather, around the UK*, the Mediteranean and Northern Europe.

I was the first grandchild on both sides of our family, so as you can imagine I was the centre of attention for at least 18 months, and I think if truth be told I remained perhaps a little bit special for the rest of their lives. I was always made a fuss of. I was very lucky to be loved so.

He was a mass of contradictions. Nobody really knew what his politics were although his views were very bigotted. He believed in discipline, the rule of law and the status quo. He would sit in his rocking chair, on one side a pile of Daily Telegraphs on the other his aging wireless. The wireless that only transmitted people that spoke with a frog in their throat, or so I thought. The dial displayed stations and transmitters from far away places; Light, Third, Droitwich, Hilversum, London, North, Athlone, Brussels, Toulouse and Moscow to name but a few. As a little lad everywhere that wasn’t Bury St Edmunds was a strange land filled with strange people.

Earth, wind and fire

The ancient Greeks believed that there were four elements that everything was made up of: earth, water, air, and fire. I think they omitted to mention that little boys are made of slugs and snails and puppy-dogs' tails, and that little girls made of are sugar and spice and everything nice. But we won’t hold that against them.

Whilst science has explained that they can no longer be considered as elements I have always felt an affinity with them; considering them to be spiritual friends. Finding comfort and solace in them. And before you ask, no I’m not an arsonist!

Thankfully I no longer have to garden. When I did I all too often found it a chore. But one thing I have always loved is the feel of earth on my hands. It is a feeling that’s quite sensual; be it breaking a lump of dry earth and letting it slowly run through my fingers or kneading a claggy sod of clay-heavy soil. The digging and breaking soil with one’s hands is an activity that is as old as cultivation and which in turn is a key element in human evolution. As a kid I could often be found, arse up with my head down a hole removing handfuls of earth as I dug deeper. I was an avid hole digger and I was thankfully given the freedom to dig in our back garden by my parents. I have an appreciation of good soil.

Sunday saw me on the Norfolk Broads crewing on a Wherry. I love boats. I always have. It stems from my love of water. River, lake or sea, I love a watery environment. The sound of water lapping on a shore or a riverbank is most efficacious indeed. Deserted waterlines can facilitate meditation. I find I can lose myself in such situations. Blend into my surroundings. Sometimes I think how nice it would be to be the only human left. Only nature for company. The feel of water flowing through my fingers is quite sensual. Spume and spray in one’s face can be quite refreshing. Water brings life but can also be a cruel mistress, bringing death and destruction. Water needs much respect. I suppose it’s part of being born and raised in the British Isles as I love looking out to sea. There’s hope, expectation and mystery wrapped up in this activity of gazing into the distance. I dream of being on a desert island, but the dream turns into a nightmare when I try to decide which eight records to choose. Only eight!

I love fresh air, in its rightful place of course. Sea air is especially joyous. Or a gobbing great lungful of country air on an isolated walk. I feel so alive feeling the wind in my face when on a boat or standing on raised ground; a feeling of cobwebs being blown away. Sweet smelling fresh air cleanses and makes one feel good to be alive.

There is something quite primitive about staring into flames. I’ve always enjoyed a log fire or a good bonfire. The warmth and comfort they offer in the cold of winter brings succour to the soul. Watching the flames dance and feeling the heat on my face and hands can be most mesmerising. The striking of a match provides a short burst of instant gratification. Toast made on an open fire always tastes particularly good. It is the taste of childhood and dark winter evenings. The fire was the focal point in the family home, sadly now replaced by the idiot box; the flames providing colour images in the days of black and white telly.

So the ancient Greeks may not have got the science quite right but they knew a thing or two about the human condition and how we bond with their ‘elements’.

The sound of summer

When I was a kid the council house that I grew up in had a brick built shed out the back. The roof was of corrugated asbestos. In the school summer holidays when it rained, yes it rained in summer even then, you could find me sitting in the shed with the door half open, listening. I love the sound of summer rain on a corrugated roof. So satisfying and comforting. I would sit there for ages listening and enjoying. I would metaphorically soak up the sounds. It was a sound that would make me tingle with pleasure, and still does. I still love the sound of summer rain. Oh and don’t get me started on the smell of rain.

Am I weird?

Well yes I am but this has nothing to do with it.