Reminiscing...

I was going to write this blog several days ago but procrastination is an unhealthy drug, which I had consumed more than the legal dose going into my Domestic Relations exam as it was thanks to the hostile world of competiative gaming. Now that the exam is out of my way, I find myself bored on a Saturday night twiddling my thumbs, and of course the only part-time solution to this problem is to blog. For some unbeknown reason, I've been going about my normal ways reminiscing my youth. When I say 'reminiscing', I do not mean cartoon shows I watched as a child or anything conventional like that, no; I mean the ways I went about life that never affected anyone, yet still treasure.

Kane - best £6.99 ever (at the time).

Everybody had their favourite toys when growing up; Power Rangers, Transformers, WWF (now WWE) figures, Spiderman, Action Man, etc. Although I indulged in adverse Power Rangers storylines from time to time - including the attack of Stone Cold Steve Austin in the bathtub, using the shower cord to restrain him until they could use their powers to summon another toy that just so happened to be lying around the bathroom to defeat him - it was the wrestling figures that stole the show for me. The ring, entrance ramp, commentary table, weapons, I had the lot. So much was my fondness for these man-dolls, my mum drove me every week to a shop called The Dungeon - a small Forbidden Planet on the Hilltown (Dundee). I had the more common wrestler so I was looking for wrestlers that were only available via American import, which takes me to the most excitement bit; waking up one average morning where your front door has a large package containing a barrage of polystyrene and my prize at the bottom of the box. If anyone has never ordered a package which contains an endless supply of polystyrene, do it. Think bubblewrap but there's a prize if you pop them all. Good old Faarooq and Bradshaw: the biggest rush of adrenaline of them all.

My next memory continues the apparent theme of rummaging for a prize but this time, replace the polystyrene with your favourite cereal. School mornings were made that much better when I realised that the Frosties or Coco Pops (I altered between the two) was in a new box - which meant a new toy to claim. I'm still hungry, but no longer for the food. Usually the toy was something that made a Happy Meal toy look like an adequate Christmas present but on the odd occasion, Kellogs would pull the rabbit out of the hat and reveal that they've inserted Crash Bandicoot toys into your breakfast. A fine way to start your day, I'm sure you'll agree.

Moving away from a theme which can only last so long (unlike the microwave, I still can't get my head around how I spent so long writing about a microwave that doesn't work), something most boys were brought up with: local football. Technically my local team was Dundee United whom I've supported for nearly 15 years now but sometimes I would venture up to the whimsical town of Forfar to be looked after. I've seen some of the best football I've ever seen at Station Park, particularly the 6-4 victory over the might of then Third Division Cowdenbeath. Such a good atmosphere too with around 600 spectators, a shed for a toilet, one shop which sold just bovril and crisps, and a bannister for you to lean on when watching the spectacle. I miss going to games that you could just enjoy before frustration kicks in and makes the experience less enjoyable, regardless of the result.

Forfar Athletic's Station Park - the 'Theatre of Dreams', Manchester United stole the gimmick.

I was going to write more, however this could consume my whole Saturday night if I mentioned everything about my childhood so I'll put a lid on it, if you will. This is basically what's waltzed its way into my thinking space in the last week - not to mention during my exam, needless to say the thoughts didn't contribute to anything significant. Life was simplistic back then. You could enjoy taking part in obscure activities without being judged for it, you're only a kid after all and you've got plenty of time to grow out of it. I'm nearly there. Nearly.