Synthorama...

How cool is eBay? It's our generation's equivalent of a jumble sale. And now, as I drift back for a dreamy and nostalgic wallow in the past, it's probably best if you imagine the first sentence being spoken in a Northern accent. Why? I'm not sure. I grew up in Putney.

"When I were a lad t'jumble sale' were magic." We used to have them at my primary school once a year, but no more than that. As such, they were big events. HUGE!

Jumble sales were ace because it meant you got to roam your school as a wild, feral pack of children, the membership of which consisted predominately of those with a one-digit age. Left alone and unsupervised, we'd exorcise our demons, usually doing the things that most of the year teachers, dinner ladies and playground supervisors told us we weren't allowed to do. As an example, I definitely once climbed a drainpipe to access the school roof. Why? Again, I'm not too sure. Though I think it had something to do with The Turbulent Term of Tyke Tiler, a book we had just read in class.

Jumble sales of the 1970s also seemed to attract a strange variety of ne'erdowells. Proper characters, definitely not just parents and relatives of kids at the school.

In the case of my school, it was gypsies. Time blurs the memory and rose tints events from the past, but I swear to you, this was true. And I mean gypsy in the kind sense of the word, i.e. used to describe wandering Romani people. Tinkers or travelers, if you will.

As well as them, the jumble sale would also attract a certain type of lady, the kind of which you no longer see. The sort that wore tabards and head scarfs, a bit like Olive from On The Buses. And it's these ladies (I shall call them the Olives) that I remember most clearly. They were the ones you had to watch.

Perhaps an hour before the school gate was opened, a large group of them would have assembled. Once the school gate was thrown open, the Olives would surge forwards, mercilessly beating a path through children and parents, intent on completing some seriously hard bargaining, sometimes to the point of theft. And all in order to snap up the general tat that was on sale. And more often than not, it really was tat.

The Olives, on discovering a group of squabbling children, would also resolve matters by knocking your heads together. We did our best to keep well clear of them.

Whilst all this went on, our parents were gassing away, usually all pissed up on booze. Which explains (a) how we were able to roam freely, and (b) how the Olives were able to haggle so effectively.

Anyway, the point of all of this is that thanks to the modern, electronic version of the jumble sale and my own skills at haggling, look what I've now got to play with...

Casio CZ3000 - I love this one a lot. Made 1983.




Roland Juno 60 - my dream keyboard as a child! Can't quite believe I now own one. Made 1982.




Korg MS20 - seriously desirable. And as such expensive. Made 1978.




Korg Microkorg - the world's best selling keyboard ever. And as such, cheap. Cheap as shit chips. Made now.




Roland RS-09 - on loan from a very dear friend. Joog! Made 1979.




Korg Triton LE - bog standard, but has sample playback option installed. Naughty. Made 2005, or something like that.




And finally, the best. Also a gift and the most special of them all. And that's saying something, coz the others are preeeeetty special. But I will make sure that this, above all of the keyboards, makes it onto this album! Conceived 1968, born 1969. The Rolf model debuted 1970. Hoo!



So, some electronic jumblesy sales, some giftys...all now mine to play with. Cwmon. I'll post a picture when everything's set up.


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