THIS week in 1976 a pile of bricks became a legend.

Bought by the Tate Gallery in London, Equivalent VIII was created by an American artist called Carl Andre.

Even today, ‘the pile of bricks at the Tate’ is invoked whenever somebody wants to suggest modern art’s a bit daft.

Andre’s intention was apparently to say something about different forms filling identical spaces, but instead he made headline news across the country and inspired a great deal of ridicule.

The Adver had three bites of the brick-flavoured cherry that last week of February. The first came courtesy of a local company and included pictures of another brick-stacker and his work.

We said: “Chris Halle wasn’t too impressed with the Tate Gallery’s recent purchase of an artistic pile of bricks.

“He wasn’t all that interested either, except like most of us to wonder why such a heap was considered art.

“He and between two and three hundred others stack bricks for a living for the Swindon firm of Bradleys at South Cerney and Ashton Keynes.”

Evidently not a fan of contemporary art, out reporter added: “But art is for art’s sake and no doubt if one leading voice says a pile of bricks is art, then the lesser sheep will not dare to argue.”

Workers putting the finishing touches to the Brunel Centre had their say a couple of days later. Our front page photo showed a huge board leaning against a huge stack of bricks.

On it somebody had chalked: “For sale, £5,000 plus VAT. Apply Tate Gallery. All our own work. Shovels thrown in free.” There was a bucket for donations.

Even the Swindon Permanent Building Society in Commercial Road got in on the act with an ad showing a drawing of Andre’s work and one of a wall.

The accompanying message? “Art bricks from the Tate or Artisans Bricks from your builder? Your strong foundation starts with regular saving at Swindon Permanent Building Society.”

Bricks, in the form of ragged edges left by the wrecking ball - featured in another unusual Adver image. Below a photo of the lone surviving house from a familiar terraced street, we wrote: “Mr George Gordon and Mr Gerard Johnson don’t have much trouble from their neighbours.

“Their house is the only one remaining on the east side of Cheltenham Street, Swindon, the others having been demolished for property development.

“The council are trying to find Mr Gordon and Mr Johnson suitable alternative accommodation.”

The summer would bring the biggest heatwave and drought in living memory, not to mention a plague of ladybirds, but the weather that February was wet and grim.

Fears of flooding in Swindon proved unfounded, but they did prompt a reader to share memories of a flood that put Regent Street under two feet of water back in 1922. We reproduced a postcard of the occasion.

Thomas Carter, then 71, told us: “It was about 1.45pm on a Sunday. The sky came over very black and it was so dark you had to have all the house lights on.

“The next thing we knew, huge hailstones were falling and then the rain came pelting down.”

Mr Carter, who had lived in The Broadway in those days, recalled being unable to get out of the house to take his daughters to Sunday school.

He added: “It took a couple of days for things to get back to normal after that.”

1976 was a leap year and February 29 was looming. We spoke to some local people who only celebrated their true birthdays every four years and had to make do with March 1 for the other three.

They included Goddard Arms receptionist Jackie Hope, who was 19 and not 19. “I have a friend born on February 29,” she said. “This year he’s six and I’m five.”

We also spoke to Clifford Laidler of Harleston Road and Ian Maisey of Hunters Grove, who were about to turn three in spite of having been born in 1964.

Ian said he was expecting a lot of ‘three today’ cards and was teased by some of his friends at school, but on the positive side got to choose his own party date when the year didn’t have a February 28.

By our calculations Jackie is now 28 and the boys 12, and we’d love to hear from them.