The year is 50 BC. Gaul is entirely occupied by the Romans. Well, not entirely…
Roll back to my early teenage years in Cambridge where Saturday lunchtimes meant a sortie to the public lending library. My hunt was laser like and specific.
The Asterix books were always lined up along the large window overlooking Lion Yard. Tintin was also there, but it wasn’t Tintin I was after.
Every few weeks a new title would appear. Those were good days. I would get the book stamped, in the bag and devoured within the day.
Each tale would take me on a journey to a far away land. Frequently outnumbered, the heroic duo of Asterix and Obelix would come to support the misfortunes of some underdog, usually at the expense of the long suffering Julius Caesar and his battered centurions.
Packed full of funny puns, petty internal squabbling, with just their wits, cunning and the not inconsequential power of Getafix’s magic potion to help them; each story would culminate with the village reuniting under a moonlit banquet.
After reading each story a few times I would copy the drawings. I was no comic artist but I tried anyway. I marvelled at the dedication and patience it would take to fill a book.
As I made my way though the series it became increasingly difficult to find new titles.
Today it would be considered inconvenient to make a 40 minute trip into town with no guarantee of finding what you want, having to wait and delay the gratification.
40 years on and this is no longer a problem.
I now have my own hardback collection sitting on the bookshelf ready to thumb at a moments notice.
I have revisited the stories of these indomitable Gauls. The tales are as enjoyable as ever but the typesetting is a lot smaller than I remember.