It happened to me…

Many years ago I lived in Leicester. It was a city full of good people but overall the city was rundown, smallish in attitude and size but it was a decent place to live but this was back in the 90s before it became a giant student playground. In the late 90s I went out with a nurse and she worked in a home for sick kids. I’m being vague for obvious reasons that’ll come clear.

This nursing home was partly an old Victorian building with a newer part built on the side which replaced some older buildings and it was in this section where the kitchens were based, and it’s here where people would see ghosts, hear noises and generally end up being scared shitless at night especially. I only got told this second hand & being a good Fortean Times reader I was instantly sceptical but at the same time, curious but it wasn’t til Christmas that I experienced it for myself.

There was a Christmas party at the home that was open to parents as well as partners of staff so as there was free booze available I went with my partner to enjoy it. After a few bottles of wine, I was taken to the kitchen area where the lights were turned off & it turned into somewhere I really didn’t want to be which is unlike me as I normally love being in a kitchen. The place was much, much colder than the rest of the building which was warm even if it was one of those buildings that had horrible cold-looking corridors everywhere. This was a large care home kitchen with pots and pans everywhere. At the back was a big walk-in freezer firmly locked shut but what got our attention while walking into the kitchen was a sound like the door being slammed shut. This is the point where I started bricking it.

The place was freezing, it felt like someone was staring at us when were in there and one of the nurses there refused to go in that night because of the slamming door, and the fact she’d had similar experiences herself when working. I don’t blame her as the 15 or so minutes in there were terrifying with things shifting & a feeling like you’re being watched. It was a bad, bad feeling everyone generally got which was enough after quarter of an hour to get out of there and head back to the warm where the drink and mince pies were.

At the end of the night, we booked a taxi home and to this day I still have shivers going up my spine when I’m in hospitals, especially in a hospital corridor alone. I never checked the history of the place which in those days wasn’t an easy thing to do, but Leicester is an old city and who knows what was there at some point in history?

The long lost days of the comic book exchange

I’ve spoken about the world of buying comics in those days before the direct market but I’ve only touched upon the glorious world of the comic book exchange which is outlined from an American viewpoint in this lovely piece here.

An exchange is exactly as it sounds. You’d take your comics there and exchange them for more comics. As a child in the 70s there were two I went to, one on Maryhill Road and the other tucked away near the entrance of Partick Subway station. Both were inhabited mainly by older men thumbing through the magazines I was never allowed to go near as a child but I was allowed to go through the boxes of comics on the floor which were a mixed bag to say the least. Made up of British and American comics, as well as new and older comics from the 1960s and earlier so I’m talking comics like this.

I remember picking up Silver Age comics in abundance for a few pence each, or if they had a stamp on them from that particular shop, you could exchange them for other comics. This is why you’ll find comics from that era with stamps of bookshops on them so you can pick up Silver and Bronze Age books which were once in shops ranging from Paisley to Poplar. True, the 5p (or whatever price) on them is nowhere near what these books are worth now but for years this was one of the main ways people could buy, and collect comics in the years before the direct market came together in the 1970s.

The direct market and gentrification were two of the main things which wiped out so many exchanges during the 80s as after all, why spend all that time raking through unsorted boxes of comics on the chance of getting a bargain when there was a speciality shop where you could get new and old comics at the same time? Sure, some collectors did that but hunting down comics is a tiresome job. Then there were the areas where these shops were being modernised, which often meant gentrified so these places were either knocked down or replaced by something appealing to an entirely different market. In the 21st Century the likes of eBay not to mention most people think any comic is worth a fortune (reality is most comics aren’t) the idea that one could walk into a strangely smelling shop and pick up anything for 10p or less is insane but for a few decades there we could do that and it was wonderful…

Visit To A Comic Book Exchange: St. Louis, 1946

Carnage at the Covid vaccination centre

Years ago I was scared of injections thanks mainly to wonderfully sleazy horror comics…

Now I’ve had more pricks than Liberace, and today I had two at the same time. Which was nice. One flu, and one Covid booster so now I have as much protection science can give me short of wearing a spacesuit 24/7.

I was also cheered by how busy the centre was with queues out the door and not one insane anti-vaxxer in sight. These people I’ve ran out of time for to even take the piss out of as this pandemic isn’t helped by people who help prolong this pandemic which means they contribute to the death toll, and not just that, when they end up in a hospital bed thanks to Covid that denies a bed to someone else.

So yeah, fuck anti-vaxxers. Get your jags and hopefully in 2022 we might have a better year all round.

Painful afternoon reading

My back continues to be awful and improve at the same time so still signed off work, and unable to do comic shows, so that sucks. Thankfully a summer of good shows and some big sales will see me alright but it’s the literal getting back on my feet which hurts like hell, but at least I’ve got some interesting reading matter.

Assuming England hasn’t been turned into a plague pit by Boris Johnson, I plan to do a few conventions there next year assuming I have a workable spine by then. Til then it’s taking it easy and hoping the physio, etc does its job so I can sort of get back to normal.

In the frontline of COP26

Right now tens of thousands of people are marching through a wet, sunny Glasgow in favour of climate justice and we’ve got all the celebs from Greta Thurberg to Idris Elba apparently, all getting soaked. The last week has been chaotic where I live which is ten minutes away from the COP26 location which hasn’t exactly helped my recuperation after last week’s hospitalisation.

But this is important. The planet is becoming harder to support humanity as we know it today but at best all we’ll get from those in charge is a few policies, some minor commitments and all the while the likes of Russia, China, etc won’t give a fuck and carry on polluting. Will any of today’s protests do anything to change this? Probably not. I marched in the 80’s and 90’s against nuclear weapons and things like the Criminal Justice Bill, but nuclear weapons are still around, and successive governments have made civil liberties a thing under threat since those heady days of the early 90s. I marched with millions against the Iraq War, but that still happened.

In short; we’re fucked. Until we unfuck things nothing will change which is one of many reasons to support Scottish independence as we’d no longer be dragged along with the likes of Boris Johnson’s increasingly insane and criminal government, My pessimism might be tempered with being pissed off with being ill, but I do fear the worst. I wish I’m wrong but good luck to those hundreds of thousands on the street protesting today. Hopefully change will come.

General Hospital

My body has gone and given out. Again. So my back pain of the last few weeks turned into a serious problem as I couldn’t walk last Wednesday so, a 999 call happened and a few days in hospital followed and all the culinary delights of such a visit.

Five years ago I had a stroke and afterwards developed sciatica. Since then I’ve been having back pain but all manageable, until last Wednesday where it all got too much so they got me to hospital (and right now Glasgow is a madhouse thanks to COP26) did a wonderful job of patching me back up for a while and now I’m home.

So a wee fright, but now I’m resting and seeing what the next step is at the start of December when I see my consultant next. Sadly this means I need to be careful for the rest of the year so all the comic events I was going to do is knocked on the head so 2022 can go ahead with as less hassle as possible.

Til then someone give me a cyborg body…

The grim, cold spaces of MCM London

I love comic conventions. I love the smell of a warm SIlver Age book in the morning, and now conventions and marts are slowly returning, those fanboys and girls are grabbing comics at shows where they can. Which brings me to MCM London, which happened last weekend at the Excel Centre there. This was by far the biggest show in the UK since the pandemic started and I was considering going down but England is plague country so wait on that til next year hopefully.

I’m glad I didn’t as watching the videos of the hall is possibly too depressing for words, and yes the Excel is a grim horrible place with the atmosphere of an aircraft hanger after 911, but it doesn’t need to feel so cold and well, grubby. As for some of the traders I wonder how on earth some of them made money, especially the ones sitting there looking glum and/or playing with their phone.

But it’s the lack of comic dealers and indeed, comics at a fucking comic convention that is extraordinary. The table prices are steep and all cynicism aside it does attract a large number of people, but it is a bit grim to see so few comics there, but I suppose that’s where these mega events are heading as comics are being toned down in favour of fudge and carved bits of wood which might remind you of Tom Hiddleston from a distance.

Anyhow, have a look.

One step forward, two steps back

My spine feels like Batman here, but sadly there’s no miracle cure coming my way so painkillers galore and lots of rest so I can hopefully do things this weekend.

Lockdown took a toll on my health but trying to do normal things is a chore when you’ve had a stroke, so heavy painkillers and rest. Maybe Batman might swing by with a miracle cure…

Come to Glasgow this weekend to buy lots of lovely comics from me

This weekend Glasgow has it’s first comics event for over two years!

The location for this is nice and central at the RSS Centre/Renfield Centre, 260 Bath Street. Glasgow, G2 4JP, and it’s also spitting distance from where I live so no ridiculously early rise for me. This is the first chance to give customers a good chance at my back issues (oo err) as the marts I’ve been doing in shopping centres are a much scaled down operation.

So come spend money and help make some room so I can get more comics to sell you lovely people!

Here’s some tasters…

And literally thousands more…

My shopping and health recommendation of the week!

As anyone who has been reading this blog for a while knows, back in 2016 I had a stroke and was also diagnosed with cancer, so it was a year to say the least. One which was topped off with developing sciatica so back pain is a constant part of my life but you kind of have to deal with it which I have but sometimes it can be too much at times.

This week was one of those times til a lad at work said that he uses a weighted blanket to help him with the pain from breaking his back some time ago. So if someone who broke their fucking back sears by it, it’s worth a try. Ordered a blanket, got it Friday afternoon and tried it Friday night, and all I can say is if you’ve got back pain or anxiety then a weighted blanket does the tried. Dear me, I don’t think I’ve been chilled this much for well, years.

There’s my tip for the week. Seriously trust me on this…