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James Bond and Me



James Bond with a 1964 Triumph TR4 - made with Craiyon

Blog 6 – James Bond and me


As with blog 5 this is about me and my childhood hero.


Being part of the post war baby boomer generation we saw lots of changes between childhood, puberty and ending up adult- if boy child ever becomes adult, and looking back the hero of the piece is a prime example of boys and their toys. Writing this now so much relating to most youth and teenage idols JB has certainly been held in high esteem over the years.


It all began in a galaxy a far far away from the hum-drum existence of 1950s, someone decreed that a boy should be given to a strangely paired couple G & J. G being the father who lived through rationing to become a chocoholic when rationing was lifted, worked hard hundreds of miles from home to be rewarded with a company car, Ford Classic, just like the Ford Anglia but bigger. Bet that’s lost a whole shedfull of readers. When all else fails – research it, you do for everything else on google. We were one of the first in our street to get the telephone installed – party line (look it up idol person), and all the prestige that went with it. J had a part time job and in her spare time listened to Mrs. Dales’ Diary (I’m worried about Jim) at 4.15 most afternoons along with Woman’s Hour at 2.00. She was also an avid reader forever telling the tale of how at home in Southern Ireland they were so poor that night-time reading was under a street light to save electric at home ???. but J brought the world of books and reading to yours truly.


At a very early age the public library was the place where the in-crowd hung out, not really, just us nerds or bookworms as we were known in those days.


I can’t remember which of Ian Flemings’ masterpieces I read first – I think it was ‘Goldfinger’, but it was enough to get me hooked. Bit different than your ‘Commando, Victor, Valiant and of course The Eagle comics usually associated (other boys comics of a similar nature were available.) There is a passage in Goldfinger (about chapter six) where Colonel Smithers of the Bank of England security section is taking Bond to a location in the building in London when he sees out of a window into a courtyard chocolate-brown lorries and Smithers comment ‘Fivers from our printing works in Loughton.’ ‘So what!!’ you cry. On a number of very minor levels this phrase hardens my relationship with James Bond.


I went to school in the east end of London, and usually once a week we saw three chocolate-brown lorries heading in the same direction – each week a plan was formulated on hi-jacking said vehicles -no luck, besides we were only twelve- age not number of robbers – potentially. It was not only the new money coming from Loughton but the rumour about the old money going back for disposal. Because we lacked the experience that tv cop shows gives the world, we always planned to take the new sequentially numbered, gift wrapped fivers never the old dirty NON sequentially numbered fivers. (did you see the tv drama about ladies working in the Loughton works stealing some of the old money – look it up it’s a true story.)


Our family lived in Loughton about three hundred yards (oops. Metres) from the Loughton printing works, and J eventually worked there fulltime of a number of years (silver service waitress).


So the links move on again in small ways – every boy wanted the latest toy you know guns, action figures and cars most of which had a gadget or two. Toys which changed a generation, these toys were affordable to enterprising young people who raised cash by doing jobs around the house, delivered newspapers to your door, seven days a week with two rounds on Sunday as well as marking up papers for the other boys all for 12s6d per week (about 60p).


But as time went on the young worker did things with the hard earned cash that kept the Bond dream growing.


Gawd it can’t be that late – paper round in the morning, I’d love to tell you all about it now, but no chance. But I will start tomorrow.

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