The start of the school holidays are upon us.........oh sense of impending doom. six, or in some cases seven weeks of having the little darlings hanging around the house.
I hate school holidays. Why do they have to be so very long......?
It must be really hard to be a parent of a couple of children. Expensive too. Six weeks of keeping them entertained and safe.
It was different when I was a child......how so....? I hear you say.
Well, the world seemed a much safer and friendlier place......adults were to be looked up to. Adults could be depended upon to help you if you got lost or got yourself into a jam. Nowadays we admonish children not to speak to strangers.
We would put on shows...dressing up in bits of old sheet or curtain....tottering about on 'borrowed' high heeled shoes.......we would use red liquorice comfits as lipstick...the girls that is.
We would put stones into patterns to make a house.
We would play hide and seek and run up and down in the long grass playing 'Cowboys and Indians.....no-one ever wanted to be an indian because they were always killed in our games......and what spectacular deaths......falling theatrically off fallen logs.
We would go off 'exploring'...Ok it was only in Priestley Clough.
To us, it was the deepest darkest jungle.
Filled with all manner of perils and beasts....but only in our imagination.
We would paddle in the brook.......we would make dens and have our own little 'clubs'.......we would go up to Bullough Park with a corked glass medicine bottle full of 'spanish'water and a penny loaf. We would be gone for hours......and yet our parents would worry little about us. They knew that we were playing on the swings, the roundabout and the Witches hat. If we were very lucky we might have threepence and be able to buy a frozen lolly at the little hut on the periphery of the park. It was only a rumbling tum that took us home...and sometimes it didn't even take us to our own home.......friends mothers would feed us......even if it was only a jam butty. Re-fuelled we would be up for more adventures.......catching Sticklebacks with a fishing net made from a stocking and a bit of wire attached to a bit of garden cane......plopping them into jam jars.We took them home to find that they were dead in a couple of days. We played out until it got dark......or until we could hear our mother yelling at the top of her lungs. The school holidays never felt long enough then, and each new day was one to be celebrated with joy.........and it didn't cost a penny.
Wouldn't it be good if we could divorce the kids of today from their play stations and teach them how to really play......?
To let their spirit of adventure and imagination take wings and transport them to the places that I knew as a child.
I hate school holidays. Why do they have to be so very long......?
It must be really hard to be a parent of a couple of children. Expensive too. Six weeks of keeping them entertained and safe.
It was different when I was a child......how so....? I hear you say.
Well, the world seemed a much safer and friendlier place......adults were to be looked up to. Adults could be depended upon to help you if you got lost or got yourself into a jam. Nowadays we admonish children not to speak to strangers.
We would put on shows...dressing up in bits of old sheet or curtain....tottering about on 'borrowed' high heeled shoes.......we would use red liquorice comfits as lipstick...the girls that is.
We would put stones into patterns to make a house.
We would play hide and seek and run up and down in the long grass playing 'Cowboys and Indians.....no-one ever wanted to be an indian because they were always killed in our games......and what spectacular deaths......falling theatrically off fallen logs.
We would go off 'exploring'...Ok it was only in Priestley Clough.
To us, it was the deepest darkest jungle.
Filled with all manner of perils and beasts....but only in our imagination.
We would paddle in the brook.......we would make dens and have our own little 'clubs'.......we would go up to Bullough Park with a corked glass medicine bottle full of 'spanish'water and a penny loaf. We would be gone for hours......and yet our parents would worry little about us. They knew that we were playing on the swings, the roundabout and the Witches hat. If we were very lucky we might have threepence and be able to buy a frozen lolly at the little hut on the periphery of the park. It was only a rumbling tum that took us home...and sometimes it didn't even take us to our own home.......friends mothers would feed us......even if it was only a jam butty. Re-fuelled we would be up for more adventures.......catching Sticklebacks with a fishing net made from a stocking and a bit of wire attached to a bit of garden cane......plopping them into jam jars.We took them home to find that they were dead in a couple of days. We played out until it got dark......or until we could hear our mother yelling at the top of her lungs. The school holidays never felt long enough then, and each new day was one to be celebrated with joy.........and it didn't cost a penny.
Wouldn't it be good if we could divorce the kids of today from their play stations and teach them how to really play......?
To let their spirit of adventure and imagination take wings and transport them to the places that I knew as a child.
