People often say to me “Coop, you’re an old bastard. Do you remember The Black Death? Your multiple-times-Great-Grandfather the Emperor Charlemagne? The time Joseph of Arimathea bought the Holy Grail to Glastonbury? The arrival of the Anunnaki and their enslavement of the human race? The rise and fall of the great antediluvian civilization on Antartica? The time before the Lizard People built the artificial Moon and towed it into Earth orbit? When Metallica were actually good?”
And I say I only vaguely remember the latter of those things, as I can clearly date my earliest memory to 17th August 1977 and the headline of the Daily Mail “THE KING IS DEAD” coupled with going to the dentists that afternoon in Cradley Heath and my Mom and the dentist discussing the news. I was three. It’s possibly the only memory I have of the time before seeing Star Wars (Quinton cinema, the preceeding feature was about Evil Knievel, my Dad had to spend the entire film holding my seat down as I was too light to keep it in the down position).
So tomorrow on the 17th, because in those days the newspapers were always a day behind events, means that the Coop memory, packed full of useless crap about old games and the Sinclair ZX Spectrum, is exactly 40 years old.