A boy and his Eagle

I have fond memories of Hereford, and not just because in the great lottery of a childhood spent moving house every 2-3 years, that happened to be where the first Stirrings of Adolescence(tm) began, manifesting in am enhanced appreciation of Sarah Jane Smith on Dr Who, an unbearable itch in the back of my mouth that I now know was my first hayfever symptom, and an inability to get to sleep if I read anything at bedtime that even mildly hinted at sex, like a James Bond novel.

But the happiest memory of all is me and the Space: 1999 Eagle Transporter. The series (of which less said the better) had just started on TV and Eagles were the cool toy. There was one in Hereford that I wanted. I wanted it so badly. But alas I had no money and my parents took a dim view of state subsidy. Oh, what was I to do?

Astonishingly it was my godfather who solved the problem. This hardened SAS veteran of conflicts around the globe came to stay, and presented me with - I think - the AA Book of British Birds. Or something very like it. He hadn't thought to check whether we already had one. We did, but were too polite to tell him.

Instead, after he was gone, my parents bought if off me at the full RRP. Five pounds! Five hundred new decimal pence! All mine! More than enough to buy the Eagle, and a couple of books, and (the best bit) buy myself a return ticket on the bus in from Credenhill so that I could do it all on my own.

Capitalism, independence, adventure and science fiction, combined. If you can think of a more fulfilling rite of passage then I don't think I want to know.

Anyway, Hereford. That's where we've been for the last couple of days. More will doubtless follow shortly.