Redundant cards
As a 7 or 8 year old, I thought that owning a plastic card – like a cashpoint card – was very grown up. Nowadays plastic cards are very easily available – membership cards, loyalty cards, library cards, etc. Back then (1987ish) they were much harder to come by.
My library card was actually a couple of cardboard sleeves, I wasn’t a member of anything*, and loyalty cards hadn’t been invented.
My parents didn’t have any spare cards, so I made a couple of credit cards with pens and paper. They weren’t very good.
When I finally got my Mum’s old Halifax card, I loved it! I then bought a grown-up leather wallet for it.
I’ve been trying to think back as to what initially sparked my interest in them. I can’t be absolutely sure, but I believe I was inspired by seeing a scene in The New Statesman where Alan B’Stard had lots of credit cards in a plastic wallet that opened like a concertina. Almost from shoulder height to the floor.
I wouldn’t be impressed by that type of thing now, but it was the height of yuppie Britain and I was very impressionable.
Anyway, since then, I’ve appreciated each new card I’ve received. Over the years I have been interested in changing designs and changing logos. So much so, that when my bank changed its card design or logo, I’d mysteriously ‘lose’ my card to ensure I’d get the new one immediately.
Each card is a piece of history, not only in the life of the organisation that issued it, but also in my life. I suppose that’s why I’ll never throw them out.
* I have to admit to being a member of the Dennis the Menace fan club, which had a paper membership slip.