Fans! Fans! Fans! We see them all over the newspapers and television. There are hoards of them.
If the word "fan" is short for "fanatic" then it follows that there is a degree of mania here. I gaped in wonder at the enormous crowd in Madrid and the exuberant, mass hysteria over a goal in a football match. I looked at scenes from Glastonbury and asked myself if I would like to have been there?
The answer was, "Err - NO."
Now! Take the Proms, for example. Sure enough, there you will find lots of "fans" but the Proms are a celebration of history and traditions and, at least, the audience is, on the whole, listening to beautiful music. At least, I can understand that.
What I find fascinating is the mysterious power that can turn totally individual people into a seething mass of hysteria. We saw it in the adoration of Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Chairman Mao. The list is endless.
G. K. Chesterton is well known for saying something to the effect that when people stop believing in God, they don't then believe in nothing, they will believe in anything.
I wish I understood this strange phenomenon. If anyone could explain this awesome mystery and package their findings and market them, they would make a fortune or, perhaps (and here's the rub) they could even rule the world.
On a lighter note, a little bit of loyalty to something or someone who gives you pleasure is a good thing. Think of all the people devoted to fly-fishing or bird watching. Think of the great composers and the dedicated students who devote their lives to study, in order to keep the masterpieces alive.
Think of the great writers (and the not-so-great), they have their fans too.
Some people collect toys, dolls, in particular. I have a friend who collects, she even has one on her key-ring.
So! In tribute to all those who remember with affection the little companion of their childhood, and those unfortunate enough not to have known him...
About this Author
I decided to write this book "The Adventures of Robertson Golly," in spite of political correctness (of which I am absolutely sick) and in defence everyone's right to watch football, go to the Proms or spend their time fly-fishing.
Robertson Golly is sprinkled with stardust and a little fairy magic, gifted with talent and caught up in the perilous tide of fame and fortune. The journey is not an easy one, as he finds that life in the real world is very different to that in the nursery toy-box.
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