In a different life, pre - wife, pre- kids, pre - comics, in training for my life as a gardener, mid metamorphosis from young innocent to settled reflective man I was known to some old friends as 'Flash'. Not because I was able to tap into the speed force, but because I was slow, slow to get the joke, slow to grasp the concept, slow to finish. After a short time this affectionate moniker was dropped in favour of 'Jack', as in Jack Flash.
I digress, and segue slowly into my appreciation of the new Flash series from Geoff Johns and Francis Manapul. Maybe because of my sluggish ways I have been drawn to the Flash character, I tried to follow the red and gold speed freak once before in the recent Flash: Rebirth mini series, but got completely confused and dropped it after issue 2. It was Francis Manapul's dizzy pencils and wonderful city scenes that tempted me to try again with Flash 1, just released last week. So far so good, loving it's juicy panels, pacey pencils and stunning artwork.
I wonder what happened to the guy who nicknamed me 'Flash', he was a jolly geordie from Jarrow that was inclined to whistle like a demented Blackbird at 6am as he went about his morning routine kicking his fellow students bed frames with his steel toe capped work boots.
" Howay Flash, get oot y' sack!"
Still dark outside, frost etched windows, tractors, stone walls, ragged sheep, cold boots and grey skies. Aah, its all coming back to me now, slowly.
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