From Batman to Hawkboy: A Nostalgic Childhood Tale

The countryside and nature was in my blood, but this was the 60’s and I had been introduced to the world of Superheroes. Batman was on the TV every week and for a while I was hooked. I still have the soundtrack and the annual. πŸ˜‚

1960's Batman Annual
Original 1960's Batman Soundtrack

I’ve never been a watcher, I always want to be involved, to be doing something. So, maybe it was time I tried my hand at this superhero business, naturally my first choice was Batman.

Don’t get me wrong being Batman was okay, and I felt inspired, but I was an impostor. I began to search for a yet to be discovered superhero. Difficult without GoogleπŸ€”. Saturday shopping days meant I was dropped at the library in Wetherby while mum and dad did what ever they did in town. In 1240, King Henry VIII issued a Royal Charter granting the Knights Templar the right to hold a market in Wetherby every Thursday and so Wetherby was a Market Town.

But I was more interested in the wonders of the library. I approached the elderly lady who ran the library and enquired if she knew of the existence of a Hawkboy. She retrieved a copy of A&C Black’s Who’s Who and began to search, to no avail. Eventually I had to infrom her that he was a superhero. She looked puzzled for a moment and then explained it was unlikely a superhero would be listed as they have to submit the biography themselves, which may jepordise their anonymity. I think she took pity on me and added.

“There is a chap in Kirk Deighton who keeps hawks but he doesn’t have a son. So, if someone wanted to take on the role, I think it would be such an adventure.”

That was all I needed, I was over the moon and I began to create my alter-ego. From my base (a tiny cubbyhole under the stairs) I started work. I used my Wolverhampton Wanderers football shirt (yellow), an old pair of mum’s tights, my old trunks (yeah, I know, a therapist would love that!) The batman cloak, utility belt and mask was handy. My utility belt was stuffed with things like my pen knife, laser gun and some baler twine. All I had to do now was hide somewhere and wait for trouble.

When you’re the only kid on the farm there isn’t a lot of crime, but one hot summer’s day mum asked me to go blackberry picking. Would there be blackberry rustlers? I couldn’t take the chance. I wore my costume beneath my ordinary clothes, it was imperative to keep my identity secret. Mum was surprised I was wearing my long farmwork trousers but I won the debate. I was quite an insistent ten-year-old. “You’ll be too hot,” she sighed and we set off.

The sun got higher, burnt off the few meagre clouds, and the heat intensified. I began to pray for a villain, any villain, a naughty sparrow would have sufficed, I was Hawkboy afterall! I began to feel a little sick, my skin felt clammy and I was so thirsty. When I began to feel faint, mum took a good look at me and began to wrench my outer clothes off. I tried to repel her, but eventually I had no option but to reveal my identity. After calling me a, “Silly little bugger,” but promising to keep my alter ego secret, we agreed that Hawkboy could have a day off and I removed the supersuit. There were raised eyebrows when she saw her tights, but I explained how sacrifices have to be made for the safety of the planet. She replied, “Aye, that may be, but not today. Drink some water!”

Happy Trails, Folks x

Where It All Began #2

If you read the first post you’ll know by now at the tender age of five we moved to a different farm. Still miles from anywhere and still the only kid. The school thing was becoming a nuisance, and I discovered it would last for eleven years! At least I could walk to this one… it was only two miles away. Although it did mean crossing the A1. If you’re not familiar with this motorway it stretches (or at least it did) from London to York and then later to Hadrians Wall and was built by the Romans 2,000 years ago. There’d been some work done on it since then and back in the day it was a little safer for a five- year-old, and our cows to cross four lanes of trafficπŸ˜‚

I had another five years of interupted peace on that farm. My mother was quite ill (she’d had a brain heamorrage when I was four-years-old) Some days she didn’t feel good so, no school. She liked the company and I enjoyed taking walks in the country with her. I don’t think the teacher missed me, probably glad of a day’s rest from explaining things twice over. I was usually looking out of the window at the sky, the birds and the trees while planning my next adventure or project. I’d found an old pram and made myself a guider or some call a go-kart. I remember my dad made a hole for the front cross member with a hot poker, we didn’t have a drill πŸ˜‚

That was me, we might have moved farms but happy days. I even managed to breed a few rabbits and I do remember going through an Artist Stage but it turned out I couldn’t paint. Although my sisters (when they visited) said I could tell a good story, even it it was completely idiotic!

You know that old saying? Nothing lasts forever? Well it’s a lesson I’ve spent many years learning over and over. Things were about to change! I wonder if all you good people have happy childhood memories?

Happy Trails, Folks x