Where are you all coming from...?

"From Smurfland where we belong...."

Way back in the days of childhood yore when we only had 3 Tv channels and the car rego was T,  National Benzole a  brand of petrol station (now part of the ever popular BP) were augmenting their sales with a promotion involving The Smurfs.: These "lovable" fun characters were first introduced in Belgium in the 60's , and quickly spread throughout Western Europe in the seventies.

Aided in this global conspiracy by the "hit" single sung by Father Abraham, and his squeaky petite blue friends  Rather scarily this reached number 2 in 1978, and spawned 2 follow up top ten singles. Their appeal was so great that popular children's magazine Look In produced a weekly Smurf feature to entertain the masses,including me:

For lovers of all things smurf, this was indeed a gilded era, and an abomination for those who did not.

Of course I fell into the smurf fan side of things, and started to collect the tiny plastic figures from National filling stations, especially the one on Kingsthorpe's Harborough Road. This glorious highway, on the outskirts of Northampton, wended its verdant path north through established conifer lined suburbs and quaint ironstone villages en route to Market Harborough and Leicester.

The  journey from my home to the filling station took around twenty minutes. Following in the tradition of fond childhood memories, I recall it always being bright and sunny, and was a pleasant stroll. Just like the Hobbit's adventure, my quest would also involve small people and conclude with the premise of treasure.

On the way back I would often purchase a small packet of sweets (which were strictly verboten to me as a diabetic child) and scoff them merrily on the way home with my newly acquired smurf. Favourite forbidden treats at the time were Fruit Pastilles and Rolos, as they could be swiftly consumed within twenty minutes, yet lasted most of the way home. Unsurprisingly my blood sugars were strangely elevated later on that day....

And so this memory remained just that, a fleeting memory of times past.

Or so I thought.

For one brief moment last week, whilst walking near the beach in the stifling summer heat, I passed a man carrying a jerry-can, full of fuel, for his boat. As he sloshed past I was exposed to the same petrol fumes which when combined with the summer heat conjured up the exact aroma that returned me instantly to that forecourt in 1978.

I was captivated by the smell, and instantly thought of smurfs, 34 years later.

My life has moved on, and the smurfs may have disappeared, but  if the yearning should return there are these....