Tuesday, 21 December 2010
(originally posted at my old blog over three years ago, but I think it needs to be here now..)
The above advertisment once appeared on the back cover of many UK comic books. For the record, this scan was taken from Hulk Weekly issue no. 58, dated April 10th 1980. Examining it now, I still feel a brief flicker of interest; a vague trace element of the profound excitement that overtook me, as a child, whenever I saw it. I actually sent off for the character, posting my signed receipt with three cut-out character names and 20p to Palitoy. Then, after an almost unbearable period that felt like 28 weeks, rather than days, Boba arrived on the doormat. It was a Thursday morning, just before school. I remember it like it was yesterday. The box was plain white and rather small, but I knew immediately that it contained Boba. I think I may have let out a screech of delight as I bounded down the hallway to snatch him up triumphantly. Of course, the actual Boba Fett figure was far less impressive than the advertisement suggested. And yet, even though all my other Star Wars figures have long gone, Boba remains with me...
I suppose that the almost unbearable period of anticipation imbued this Boba Fett figure with an extra level of personal historicity, and I suspect it will remain with me forever. And yet I feel very little when holding or observing the object itself. It is merely a relic, a dead thing. Strangely, it's the original advertisement that seems to hold a little jolt of haunted electricity. The connection with the child lies somewhere within it...
The above advertisment once appeared on the back cover of many UK comic books. For the record, this scan was taken from Hulk Weekly issue no. 58, dated April 10th 1980. Examining it now, I still feel a brief flicker of interest; a vague trace element of the profound excitement that overtook me, as a child, whenever I saw it. I actually sent off for the character, posting my signed receipt with three cut-out character names and 20p to Palitoy. Then, after an almost unbearable period that felt like 28 weeks, rather than days, Boba arrived on the doormat. It was a Thursday morning, just before school. I remember it like it was yesterday. The box was plain white and rather small, but I knew immediately that it contained Boba. I think I may have let out a screech of delight as I bounded down the hallway to snatch him up triumphantly. Of course, the actual Boba Fett figure was far less impressive than the advertisement suggested. And yet, even though all my other Star Wars figures have long gone, Boba remains with me...
I suppose that the almost unbearable period of anticipation imbued this Boba Fett figure with an extra level of personal historicity, and I suspect it will remain with me forever. And yet I feel very little when holding or observing the object itself. It is merely a relic, a dead thing. Strangely, it's the original advertisement that seems to hold a little jolt of haunted electricity. The connection with the child lies somewhere within it...
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