So, I’m not sure if this actually happened. It’s not fiction, and I’m not sure how I’d make this up. It is a childhood memory, though.
One christmas or birthday, my Auntie May and Uncle Tom gave me a toy aeroplane. The wing was made of white polystyrene and the body was made of black, shiny, moulded plastic. (I learned the word ‘fuselage’ from the instructions on the box of this toy) There was a wire undercarriage with tiny plastic wheels. The wire was poorly constructed, so the wheels weren’t free to turn.
Through the centre of the fuselage, there was a thick rubber elastic band. This attached to the propellor. Holding the fuselage with one hand, with one finger of the other hand it was possible to wind the propellor counter-clockwise. This would twist the elastic. It was then possible to release the aircraft, from an elevated position, or from a smooth surface. (This may be a quote from the instructions).
I was old enough to know how to read, but it was before we went to France. I’d peg this at around five years old. The wingspan of the aircraft was longer than the length of my leg. It was too big to fly in the sitting room of our semi-detached house.
All that part is true. There are photos of the toy aircraft, I had an uncle Tom and an aunty May. Here’s where it gets fuzzy, and strange.
As I mentioned, the house was too small to fly the aircraft either indoors, or in the garden. My brother was in a buggy. He’s a 29 year old surgeon who drives a BMW now, but then, he was in a buggy. I think it was autumn, or maybe early spring (spring would fit with the timing of a christmas present).
Near where I grew up, there’s a church. There’s a big car park in the church. At that point, it would have been covered in fresh tarmac - a smooth surface for those wire and plastic wheels. My mother wheeled the future surgeon and I down to the church to fly the aeroplane.
It turned out that winding the propellor took forever. The tarmac wasn’t smooth enough, and the plane would tip over on take-off. I thought the answer was to wind it harder. I wound for a very long time (until my finger was sore). I held the plane over my head, it accelerated into the wind, caught a gale, and crashed directly into the wall of the church.
Here, the fuzz sets in. This is where the modelmaker entered the scene. I’m not sure how long he had been there. He had the plane in his hand. It was smashed.
He offered to fix it. He said he had the stuff at home.
He started to tell me about how he built models. He was an old man - I’m not sure how old, but certainly older than my mother, and probably the same age as my grandparents, when I was five. In my head, he had a navy jacket. I genuinely can’t picture him.
He described the front room of his house, where he had built a model town, with trains and cars. He even had an airport. He said this would be perfect for my aeroplane. I remember wondering how he could maintain scale (the idea of toys being in proportion with each other was important to me then), given that a scale aeroport (even a small aerodrome) for that aeroplane would be bigger than most living rooms.
This image stuck out in my mind, of the town in his living room. I can still picture it, as he described it, a waterfall made of strips of cut sellotape. He invited me to come and visit it, since I liked models. (he was still holding onto the aeroplane)
My mother was there then, and as I remember, she thanked him for telling us about his models. She asked could he give me back the plane, and we went home. Me carrying the broken plane, her pushing the surgeon. I was disappointed we couldn’t go to see the model town, with the disproportionate airport.
Now. Let’s think about this from an adult’s perspective. This man, presumably in his fifties, told a five year old child about some models he had in his living room. He invited the child (without the mother) to come and see the models, on his own in his living room.
It emerges that this isn’t a story about models, it’s a story about how I was nearly taken by a paedophile! Now how will I ever find out if this is true - ‘hey, mam, remember that time I was nearly kept as a child sex slave by a miniatures enthusiast?!’
Also - was this a thing back then? Were there just paedophiles roaming around church grounds, waiting for kids?
What the hell?
Also, that aeroplane never flew right.
