May the 4th. Star Wars Day. A day for everyone who ever looked up at a galaxy far far away and never quite looked away.
That includes me.
I was seven years old the first time I saw Star Wars. Not in a cinema. At home, with the family, after school. My older brother — a massive fan of the franchise — had rented the films on Betamax. God, that makes me sound old. Betamax.
But sitting there binge watching those first three films, I was hooked. Completely and permanently hooked on the laser, the characters, hooked on everything from a galaxy far far away.
10 quid
Years later, when I was living in Belfast and deep into collecting Star Wars figures, I stumbled across a vintage market just behind Castle Court in the city centre. And there among the stalls was a loose 1977 Kenner Darth Vader. Vintage, leather cape, push out light saber. Original. Him. Picking him up I could hear the background music.
He came with two vintage Red Guards. All three for 10 GBP.
Seeing those loose figures brought joy to my heart in a way that is hard to explain. It reminded me of the kid on the couch watching Vader say — Luke, I am your father. It reminded me of being around family. Of my brother and the Betamax and the afternoon that changed everything.
The Ones I Kept
When I left Belfast to move to Melbourne, I sold my entire Star Wars collection. Every figure. Every piece.
Except Vader. And the two Red Guards.
I could not do it. Not because of monetary value but because of sentimental ones.
Some things you just cannot leave behind. They are still with me now — sitting in a sealed pack in my collection room. 26 years and counting. I have had other Vader figures added to my collection, ones with better detail, articulation, and accessories. But this one holds its place on the locked glass box.
Happy Star Wars Day to everyone who knows exactly what it feels like to hear that breathing and feel seven years old all over again.
Sharing my piece of Neverland…
Figure This Out 