LEGO has always been a natural source of comfort for me. Ever since I could sit upright and crudely stack one object on top of another, I’ve been constructing these colourful plastic foundations into structures that even the most talented of architects could never conceive. Pirate ships, alien spacecrafts, a pulp, ancient Egyptian themed set, complete with sarcophagus and secret wall panels. A jaunty little tower that even a fly could topple. Of course my most cherished composites were the simple 4 studded bricks, that when assembled could create a diverse range of architectures ripe for conquering or buccaneering. Of course being the creatively stunted child that I was, more engaged by the precision of the craft or building as opposed to assimilating one set with another, I would become very protective of my achievements in infrastructure. But as you get older and society intimates that Lego is for children, your stockpile of accumulated bricks are banished into the darkest recesses of your cupboard. Remaining there until your mother insists on its removal, or threatening to donate it all to a local charity shop.
The reconciliation with this childhood pastime has ignited an invigorating obsession with these iconic toys again, one that I firmly believed was consigned to those halcyon days of childhood nostalgia. But I’ve discovered that my admiration for it still endures, despite my ever closing ascension towards middle age. Though my exposure to Lego’s pervasive popularity has been somewhat limited by my gradual deviation into adulthood, it has not escaped my attention that many sets are now explicitly designed for a more mature audience. For instance my first foray back into the Lego assembly was the Delorean from “Back To The Future”. A set consisting of just over 1800 pieces and a 300 page instruction manual! With many meticulous elements, time consuming procedures and my own habitual tendency to conceal the one piece I need beneath the dune of other bricks. Because of this, the Delorean was a challenging, though rewarding first build. One in which my daughter assisted me in the construction, under my direct supervision of course. The only issues that have arisen from this rediscovered hobby are “price” and “space”.
Perhaps Lego wasn’t always an expensive endeavour, or it might be that the monetary value of such things doesn’t really apply when it’s your parents spending the money. But Lego is a very much a premium hobby, with some sets retailing in excess of £400! And that’s not including the luxurious “Eiffel Tower” set or the “Millennium Falcon”. The latter of which costs an empire shattering £735! Even if I was blessed with a nice little windfall or indeed renounced my penny pinching ways, I’d have no where to store, let alone display these exceptional recreations. So if I do acquire any more nostalgically motivated sets, I have to be especially discerning to ensure my partner doesn’t start to question my where my supplementary income is going.