Gerry
02-24-2008, 09:30 PM
As I sit waiting for the boys to be brought out of school with their hands firmly held to make sure there is no danger of them tripping up or even running ahead of their minder I think back to what life was like as a child their age. At their age I used to walk the mile to my Primary school without a child minder being on guard. I only had three main roads to cross but I knew my Tufty Code and that got me safely across, most days.
After school I would always stop at the play park for a go on the tubular steel roundabout that wobbled and shook as the big boys raced it around with me holding on for my life. If I was lucky I would get a go on the swings, their solid hard wooden seat polished by the countless rubbings they got from the seat of the pants constantly planted on them. Their heavy chain links tied in knots to raise the height of the seat for the big boys. The big banana slide was a huge climb up those ornate cast iron steps that were razor sharp if your foot was to slip as you raced up them.
The brass plate curved up at the side to stop you falling to your sure death from that height. The trick was not to go to fast because at the bottom you would fly off and the gravel was sharp as knives if you didn't plant your feet firmly or hit the ground running. There wasn't much grass in our park. The hard clay and gravel base didn't encourage and seed that should have landed on it by accident.
I try to remember if I had a school uniform but the only uniform I remember was that every boy and girl always had knees and elbows covered in thick scabs from the constant rubbing on sharp gravel. There was never a day in school when we didn't see blood. Not just from a broken scab. Real flowing blood from a tooth going through a lip or a head split open by a missed timed run onto the heavy swing. Broken bones only happened weekly. One guy got his foot caught under that wobbly roundabout.
He still walks with a limp as he brings his children out the school gate passing the play park with the spongy soft floor, the ultra light swing seats held up with soft cotton rope that guarantees not to burn tiny hands and a slide that you could step over it's so low to the ground.
We may have gained a lot of physical scars in our childhood but I wonder are children today being wrapped up to much in cotton wool that one day will not be there to protect them from the real world.
By Gerry Temple
copyright February 2008
After school I would always stop at the play park for a go on the tubular steel roundabout that wobbled and shook as the big boys raced it around with me holding on for my life. If I was lucky I would get a go on the swings, their solid hard wooden seat polished by the countless rubbings they got from the seat of the pants constantly planted on them. Their heavy chain links tied in knots to raise the height of the seat for the big boys. The big banana slide was a huge climb up those ornate cast iron steps that were razor sharp if your foot was to slip as you raced up them.
The brass plate curved up at the side to stop you falling to your sure death from that height. The trick was not to go to fast because at the bottom you would fly off and the gravel was sharp as knives if you didn't plant your feet firmly or hit the ground running. There wasn't much grass in our park. The hard clay and gravel base didn't encourage and seed that should have landed on it by accident.
I try to remember if I had a school uniform but the only uniform I remember was that every boy and girl always had knees and elbows covered in thick scabs from the constant rubbing on sharp gravel. There was never a day in school when we didn't see blood. Not just from a broken scab. Real flowing blood from a tooth going through a lip or a head split open by a missed timed run onto the heavy swing. Broken bones only happened weekly. One guy got his foot caught under that wobbly roundabout.
He still walks with a limp as he brings his children out the school gate passing the play park with the spongy soft floor, the ultra light swing seats held up with soft cotton rope that guarantees not to burn tiny hands and a slide that you could step over it's so low to the ground.
We may have gained a lot of physical scars in our childhood but I wonder are children today being wrapped up to much in cotton wool that one day will not be there to protect them from the real world.
By Gerry Temple
copyright February 2008