I was about eleven years old by now.
We were living in Broadstairs on the Kent coast, where my parents ran a busy guest house. They worked incredibly hard, which meant I had something that kids today can barely imagine.
Freedom.
Every morning I’d be handed 50p dinner money and disappear until teatime.
No mobile phone.
No GPS.
No checking in.
Just a bicycle, the beach, the park and whatever adventure I could find.
It was a wonderful time to grow up.
Around then, skateboarding arrived in the UK from America. My best friend Laura came from a family that was far better off than ours, and she owned one of the first skateboards I’d ever seen.
Naturally, I wanted a go.
Those of you who know Viking Bay in Broadstairs will know the steep hill that leads down to the beach.
Armed with absolutely no experience and an unhealthy amount of confidence, I launched the skateboard down the hill and sprinted after it, only just catching it before the sharp ninety-degree bend at the bottom.
Apparently, I decided that was the perfect moment to jump on.
My first skateboard trick was spectacular.
The skateboard launched into the air.
I launched into the air.
For a brief moment I remember staring at the sky in slow motion before completing approximately half a backflip and landing squarely on my head.
I was later told the skateboard continued its own journey, flying gracefully through the air before burying itself vertically in the sand, narrowly missing a group of unsuspecting sunbathers.
The next few minutes are a bit of a blur.
When I finally came round, I was sitting on a chair inside the beach café surrounded by a crowd of well-meaning strangers, all enthusiastically offering completely different first aid advice.
Then something magical happened.
Through the haze, standing there in all its glory, was a brand-new upright arcade cabinet.
Space Invaders.
Suddenly my head didn’t hurt quite so much.
From that day on, my trips to the beach became rather hungry affairs.
Every morning my 50p dinner money became five precious credits on Space Invaders.
The rest of the day was spent jumping off the pier, catching crabs, fishing… and, for reasons that seemed perfectly sensible at the time, having spectacular jellyfish fights in the harbour and bay area with huge gangs of the local youth involved..
The innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire probably have a few stories of their own.
Looking back now, I do feel slightly sorry for the jellyfish.
Although I still think it would make a brilliant video game.
Looking back, I think those summer days in Broadstairs taught me something that has stayed with me ever since.
Games weren’t something I fitted around my life.
They became part of it.
Next stops: Defender, Track & Field & home computers were about to change everything.
