Tin Tin Magazines
My cartoon companion
In the seventies, Tin Tin magazines were my absolute obsession! Those colourful pages were like my best buddies, always there to make me laugh and daydream. I didn’t just read them; I cherished them like they were my pals. I flaunted them proudly, showing them off to everyone at school, on the bus, wherever I went. I’d read those adventures repeatedly, which were so engrossing that I’d often miss my bus stop!
Money was tight, but I didn’t care. I’d save up every Rupee to buy a new copy from Cargill’s bookstore, costing me Rs 7.70 each. It might not sound like much, but it meant the world for a young guy with no extra cash. They didn’t bring all the issues at once; every month, a fresh one would show up at Cargill’s, and I’d snatch it up eagerly, anticipating the next one.
It’s funny; people might have thought I was too old for Tin Tin, but I couldn’t have cared less. While my buddies were stressing about exams or thinking about girls, I was diving into Tin Tin’s adventures. Thanks to those comics, I explored Arabian deserts and customs through his journeys. With his slurred, unique phrases, Captain Haddock became my hero. “Billions of blue blistering barnacles” — that line? Classic.
Ah, and let’s not forget about the incredible nightingale Bianca Castafiore, whose voice could shatter glass, and the dynamic duo of detectives Thomson and Thompson. These characters were like magic in my life, bringing endless joy to a young lad like me.
Then there was the hero, Tin Tin, with his quiff hair. I thought I was like him. I wanted to be an adventure hero, catching the bad guys like him. I loved how much he depended on Snowy, his pet dog and companion. I saw the rest of the world through Tin Tin’s eyes, his sense of adventure and discovery.
Reading Tin Tin was my escape. Those pages allowed me to forget about school pressures and be a kid. I didn’t have to be responsible; I could enjoy the thrill of the adventures. I was addicted, man. Couldn’t put those magazines down for the life of me.
Those beloved comics weren’t just an escape; they were an addiction, a ticket to a world where school pressures melted away, and the thrill of discovery took over.
My parents knew how much I adored those comics, so they kept my collection safe. And now, here in Australia, more than fifty years later, they’re still with me, waiting patiently to be passed down to my grandkids. Those Tin Tin adventures? They’re not just comics; they’re cherished memories of my youth.
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Images belong to the original owners.
