Thinking about the Beano
I had another birthday recently, and that always sends me down the rabbit hole of reflecting on my life so far and what’s still to come. For some reason, my thoughts went to the Beano.
The Beano is a British comic. According to Wikipedia, its first issue came out on 30 July 1938. It hit its 4000th issue in August 2019 and has sold over 2 billion copies, making it the world’s longest-running comic magazine.
I remember it came out every Thursday (I think), and how much I looked forward to coming home from school to find it sitting on the dining table, waiting for me. I’d read every page, every week, probably a hundred times (I’ll leave the Funday Times for another post). I was a proud member of the Dennis the Menace fan club, and I had the fuzzy Gnasher badge.
They used to publish a summer holiday bumper edition, which my parents would buy for long car journeys to relatives (though it didn’t mix well with my car sickness). For me, that summer edition became the feeling of summer — just like the Beano annual was Christmas.
My kids have never really experienced anything like this. They live in a world of endless content, shoved at them on their devices every time there’s a quiet moment. Back then, content was more scarce and that scarcity gave rise to moments I still remember: coming home from school, long car journeys, opening Christmas presents. My kids do read books (thankfully), but I don’t think they feel the same build up, the same anticipation for the next chapter or the next story. Everything is on demand now. Cheap, abundant, and because of that perhaps less treasured.
Maybe that’s my fault. Maybe I’ve made things too easy for them because I want them to have it better than I did (and I didn’t have it bad). I’m not saying kids today are missing out. They’ll create their own memories and feelings, I hope.
But on this birthday, I found myself mourning that way of being both for them and for me. It feels like something from another time. A time that’s gone. I’m a little sad about that.