When you are 8 and haven't yet climbed onto the career ladder and therefore with no regular income, your capacity to add to your already large toy soldier armies, relies entirely on your ability to secure funding from one source, your parents.
I was no different from any of my friends who lived in our medium sized city of Bradford, in the north of England in the 1970's. Having not being born into royalty, most recruitment to the ranks involved presents on birthdays and at Christmas. Aunts and Uncles who supplied boxes of soldiers, were immediately raised to a god-like status, whilst those buying jigsaws or books were treated to quiet contempt over Christmas dinner. One of my earliest Christmas memories was waking to find a Timpo wild west fort, complete with 7th Cavalry and attacking Indians, on the floor in front of the gas fire. Those Christmas holidays were entirely taken over by myself and my best friend Ian (nicknamed Epee, for some reason), taking turns to hold the fort or breach the walls and massacre everyone inside.
The challenge was the rest of the year, for a lot of kids a time of recreating battles with the same regiments and figures, with no new model army to achieve that breakthrough desperately needed. You could trade with the other kids, but that meant losing some of your treasured warriors and was nearly always followed by swappers remorse. My mum, although a woman with more cuddles than a teddy bear, could never understand why that new set of Airfix Waterloo Hussars would swing the next battle against Epee's French line in my favour. Fortunately, like a Prussian Kaiser or Napoleonic Emperor, I had my own Mayer Rothschild to finance my military campaigns, my dad.....
Dad was a steady and solid character, his time in the military during World War 2 had certainly dulled some of his emotional tendencies, but had also sharpened his sense of humour and like many veterans, he retained an interest in military history. Black and white war films on a Sunday afternoon were a staple routine in our house and most definitely my dad had a huge influence on my choice of toy genre. In those days it was either toy soldiers or toy cars and as my older brother was a petrolhead, tuning into my dad's interests and experiences probably helped in developing a relationship with someone who at times could be quite distant. One of his redeeming traits though, was his generosity. He would always be open to giving when he could and this characteristic and shared military interest would help build one of the greatest toy armies in history....
Routine was an essential part of my dad's life. Saturday morning was rigidly kept for foraging and like most working class people of his generation, food items were bought at several small shops to ensure quality and value for money. Some would specialise in meat, others bread etc, large supermarket shopping in one go was for the newer generations to come. To get me principally out of my mother's' hair, I would be asked to accompany him on the bus down into the centre of town, to help carry some of the shopping. What initially started out as a dreaded chore, quickly turned into a years long Saturday heaven, brought about by one place of marvel, Carters Toy Shop....
Like every other city in the western world, Bradford had one oasis of dreams for children, the local toy and model shop. Carters was ours. It's window displays would have put Hamleys to shame, with incredible model railway layouts and toys of every genre. Every Christmas they would really push the boat out and you literally had to queue to get a front row view, due to the crowd of kids. As you entered inside, a magical world of wonder and awe awaited you. I don't believe children of today have anywhere near the same experience and what a loss to childhood it is. On the 2nd floor, were all the model kits and toy soldiers. I can still to this day, visualise every nook and cranny of that floor, with the full Airfix range of kits and boxes of soldiers in a wide sweeping corner and the Timpo and Britains ranges next to the sales counter.
It wasn't long before I had gained the knack of engineering our passage through the town centre, to ensure that Carters would always be on the route back to the bus station. My usual operational plan, was to first linger at the window, pointing out some of the wonderful items on display. This would be followed by a request to have a quick look inside, then straight to the second floor. What followed can only be described as a concentrated assault on my dad's senses, from subtle hint dropping to outright begging. "Look at these new Timpo Romans Dad!", "Wow, I have never seen these Airfix US Marines before"... after an unpalatable length of time staring at my target, my dad would eventually give in and pay the kings shilling to secure my newest recruits. It helped enormously that my dad understood that a battery of Airfix Horse Artillery was needed to protect the flanks of my Highland regiments and we quickly installed a new step into my dads Saturday morning routine, so we were both happy!
The journey home on the bus, was filled with excited observation of my new soldiers, in anticipation of the battles to come with Epee that afternoon. My dad however, was usually quietly contemplating my mum's wrath at his purchase of yet more toy soldiers, despite explicitly promising earlier that morning that today would be for food shopping only.
Our Saturday morning continued until my early teens, until I discovered music and girls and will always be one of my strongest and dearest memories of childhood and my dad. My love for toy soldiers never waned, it was kept in a secret corner until I was confident (or old) enough to not consider it uncool. It's why I have a website selling toy soldiers, I'm dealing in much loved memories to others who can understand mine, I can't think of a better way of life... and it's also my tribute to my dad.