Giles Martin and his Lego

Its 1979 and Giles Martin is ten years old.

He gets his big box of Lego from the cupboard under the stairs. He tips the bricks out onto the carpet in the living room.

He runs his hands through the bricks. He loves the feeling of pushing the bricks around on the carpet. Years later he will think of the feeling of Lego bricks on carpet and it will make him sad for no discernable reason.

Giles can make anything he wants with his Lego. He can be anything he wants to be.

Giles’ Father walks in, “What are you doing Shit head?”

Giles loved his dad but hated it when he called him ‘Shit head’.

“I’m playing Lego,” said Giles.

“Smashing,” said his Dad.

Giles hated it when his Dad said ‘smashing’ and ‘super’ but most of all he hated it when his Dad talked about ‘the boys.’

“What are you going to build?” asked his father.

“Don’t know yet.”

Giles’ dad got down on his knees and started sifting through the bricks. “Let’s see.”

Giles Dad found a baseboard and then started building a rectangular block shape. The block had a hole in the front. He worked slowly and methodically. Giles sat twiddling a fourer in his hands.

“What’s that?” Mr Martin asked his son.

“It’s a speaker,” sighed Giles.

“Super!” Mr Martin broke up the lego and started again. He was making some sort of cylinder shape. “It’s very hard to make curved edges with lego isn’t it?” he asked no one in particular.

Giles twiddled the fourer in his hands.

Ten minutes later, Giles’ Dad asked, “What’s that?”

“It’s a Neumann U87,” replied Giles.

Mr Martin broke the pieces up again. “Now I’d like you to build something. I’d like you to build something really super, something really smashing.”

“Would you like me to build an EMI Redd.37 desk with V728 amps and moving faders and everything?” asked Giles.

“That would be super Giles! Absolutely smashing.”

Giles thought for a minute, twirled the fourer in his hands. He was weighing up the pros and cons.

“Dad?” Giles started hesitantly, “Would it be ok if I went round and played with Dhani Harrison?”

“Shut the fuck up!” said Mr Martin, “Dhani’s got his sitar lesson. You leave him alone.”