Dear LPG readers,
 
I always knew it was there, but I have radically rediscovered it over the past few years. While other retirees learn new ways to stay engaged, one aspect of my pastime has helped me regress and progress in many ways.
 
I honestly cannot remember when Lego bricks were not around, although I was a young boy who was more into Meccano at Junior school.  It was not until I had my own children that Lego came into my house.  I remember it more because of the many times the bits get left on the floor.  I believe most parents will deem them one of the most painful toys around the house.  There is always one that gets missed when they are collected after a session, and I defy any parent whose child had a set not to remember a time when they have accidentally stepped on a rogue brick with the result that they had to work very hard at not swearing because of the initial pain caused.
 
Then the children grow up, and the bricks end up in the attic until one of four things happens.  Your grandchildren come to visit, and you remember it when you can’t find anything else for them to do; you have a sort out at which point your collection gets posted on an online selling platform, you give it away, or it gets taken down to the local charity shop.
 
Mine did see the occasional light of day when the grandchildren came around.  Their natural beauty is that, despite all the computerised toys available for the little ones these days, the urge to build never goes away.
 
Apart from taking on Grandad duties, I have spent many of my retirement years volunteering at a local charity shop where many items are donated, and a large bag of Lego was left there one day.  But a look inside revealed a lot more than Lego in the bag.  It was as if it had all been swept up off the floor with a few bits of glass, an open safety pin or two and even a stick-on fingernail extension, not to mention that there are actual Lego bricks and many imitation brands around these days.  It needed checking, and I was asked to do the job.
 
This was a job that children could not help with, and I found myself sorting as promised.  But I defy anyone to try sorting Lego without being tempted to put a few bricks together.  One brick leads to another, and I sorted and stacked them simultaneously.   A surprising amount comes into the shop, and I have now been designated chief Lego checker.  I have to say that I have become a born-again Lego builder. Lego is sorted and washed, and each piece is examined forensically. This, of course, is time-consuming and has become an expensive hobby for me. I have to buy zip bags to place the individual colours in, plus unique wash bags to wash bricks in the washing machine. Then, there are picnic tables, a gazebo for summer checking, and a special sorting tray for indoor winter pursuits. 
 
Fundamentally, Lego bricks have stayed the same if you discount the little Lego men and women and all the other accessories in those pre-packed sets.  I defy any group of Lego builders to avoid having a similar conversation to that ‘Can you pass the salt please?’ one that happens at the dinner table.  However, the questions asked are more likely to be about passing the one with the right amount of studs and the right colour. 
 
I have to admit to not taking them all back to the shop, but they sell them to me at a discounted price.  Since taking on the job, I have found myself finding substitutes for the invariably missing bricks when the boxed sets are donated.  Whether your Lego set is new or, as they now say, ‘pre-loved’, it is vital to avoid the ultimate disappointment.  There is only one thing worse than getting to the end of a jigsaw puzzle and finding one bit missing; that must be getting to the end of a Lego boxed-set build and finding a brick-shaped hole in your otherwise perfect construction.   So that is another check which gives me an excuse to indulge in my latest passion.  I recently renovated a ship which came in with missing bricks and then used it to make a copy, and they each sold in the charity shop at £150.00 each, which gives my addiction an added meaning.  Originally new they were worth £300 each.
 
But you know that you have developed an addiction when you construct a bunch of Lego flowers to give your significant other on Valentine’s Day.  Guilty!
 
Have you got some stuck in your attic and nothing to do?  Get them out again.  They are an excellent way of triggering an imagination of any age, and if you find yourself left babysitting the grandchildren with nothing to do, there is your answer…
 
MM,  Kent