Autobiography #2

[robinturner]

I had a den, which was made of one of those meaningless alcoves architects feel inspired to create, with a curtain hung in front of it. There was nothing in it but boxes of toys, but it was wonderful to have a place that was mine, where I couldn't be seen. I've been trying to replicate this experience ever since. I planned dens throughout my childhood, drawing impractical inspiration from my brother's Eagle Annual (a compilation from a typically British boys' magazine). When I was about ten, he dug me an underground den in the garden, which was impressive but vulnerable to attack from creepy-crawlies. Even now I think that if I were rich, I'd buy a nice country house with a big underground bunker left over from some nutty survivalist, and fill it with electronic toys.

This desire to be holed up somewhere that I could see without being seen was evident in a weekend ritual, where I would climb into my parents' bed and, after they had got up, snuggle down beneath the sheets and watch the room via a toy periscope. I wonder if my current fascination with the Internet comes from the same feeling, that I can see the world from my little room, but the world can only see as much of me as I choose to reveal.

The toys that cluttered my den and bedroom were the usual range of little boy's toys (cars, animals, guns, soldiers) with two exceptions: I had more soft toys than usual because my mother made them (she did it professionally for a while, but gave up because it paid so badly) and I had a number of dolls. This was pretty unusual in the 1960s, when childcare experts like Dr. Spock were still advising parents not to give their sons dolls in case they turned into homosexuals. The children that is, not the dolls. The experience did not turn me into a homosexual; in fact I doubt if it had any notable effect at all, though I suppose making Sindy slug it out with Action Man might have made me a proto-feminist.

My favourite toys were those that were collectible and also allowed me to play God. Both purposes were served admirably by a company called Britains, who manufactured figurines in various ranges: zoos, farms, Wild West towns and of course dozens of different armies, my favourites being Greeks and Romans, who kicked off my later obsession with classical history. Even when playing with Lego, I was more interested in world building. I would make cities with strange architecure, populated by small cylindrical Lego bricks, who were locked in conflict with the small cubic bricks. Almost three decades later, computer "god-games" like Sim-City and Civilisation came out, and I was back in my element.