Playing Tag

I HAVE been tagged. Twice. I'm such a blog ignoramus that I had to do a Google search to find out what this meant. Wikipedia tells me it's a bit like a game of tag. Someone writes a list (e.g. Five Things You Love About Posh and Becks) and then tags some more people to write their list. I'm honoured and am in the process of thinking about what to write. I'll do it soon.
This tag business got me thinking about childhood games.
I lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere as a child and went to the village school where our pleasures were simple - putting teachers in wicker men and burning them alive, running around forests with stags' antlers on our head and sacrificing the runt of the litter (he was called Mervyn) to the goddess of the moon. The usual innocent pagan rituals.
One game was called "freeze" where everyone would leap and dance about until the "it" child yelled: "Freeze!", like some American cop, at the top of its little lungs and everyone would have to freeze in the position they were in. The first one to move was the next "it". My friends and I one day persuaded Mervyn (before he was sacrificed, obviously) that you also had to close your eyes when you froze. He was the one who smelled of pee. Why does every junior class have a child who smells of pee? Mervyn froze in a fairly stable position and we horrid, horrid children - yes, you've guessed it - crept away leaving him frozen in his urine-infused aura.
We played playground games like blindman's bluff and hopscotch. It was all a far cry of what goes on in today's playgrounds where - if you read the tabloids - they play games like Spot the Drug Dealer (he's the 12-year-old with the sunglasses and bulging pockets), Mug The Old Lady, Catwalk Queen (you're not allowed to play unless you're a Size Zero-Zero), Hide and Seek (hide from the child who's forgotten to take his Ritalin) and Reality TV Star (you're not allowed to play unless you have an air of desperation and an IQ below 80).
But each generation faces its own dangers. When we went to birthday parties there were games like musical chairs, pin the tail on the donkey and pass the parcel - except when the kids came to my house. My mother couldn't be bothered with all that rubbish and would send us out to play.
A health and safety inspector would have had a fit as we climbed over the farmyard machinery with its spikes and blades honed to razor sharpness, clambered to the top of precarious piles of straw bales and made dens in animal pens that no doubt harboured virulent strains of e-coli, salmonella and brucellosis. I'll say one thing for my mother, though, she might have subjected us to the risk of amputation, suffocation and respiratory failure but she did produce a very fine birthday tea.
All that talk of birthday parties has made me hanker after some party food. I'm off to make some jelly and custard and tiny sausage rolls the size of Mick Jagger's todger (very small, according to ex-super model Janice Dickinson).


  1. You've been tagged have you - I've heard the term but not sure how you do it. Are you not going to give us a hint as to who has tagged you??

  2. And there was I thinking ole rubber lips couldn't be anything other than the perfect pleasurer. Mind you, not sure where he'd keep it in those tighter than tight pipecleaner trousers.

  3. Mervyn had it coming.

    We didn't have Pee-Smell Boy, but we did have Injury-Prone Boy. He once fell out of his desk (by which I mean there was a loud noise and we all looked up and he was lying on the ground under his desk) for absolutely no reason. I wonder if gravity still hates him?

    Ironically, his name was Melvyn. Really!

  4. "Why does every junior class have a child who smells of pee?"

    I will see you your pee-boy and raise you a fart-boy, as we had both. The fart boy also picked and ate his own boogers, adding to the air of general grossness about him. Oh, and his first name was "Ariel," so he was pretty much doomed, socially.

    "and tiny sausage rolls the size of Mick Jagger's todger (very small, according to ex-super model Janice Dickinson)"

    I believe he is one of those men where the size of the bank roll makes up for the size of the sausage roll, at least in the judgement of some women.

  5. My mother couldn't be bothered with all that rubbish and would send us out to play.

    Heh heh! That's what I call a no-nonsense woman. Fat Sparrow, don't forget Mick's big lips and long, long tongue.

  6. oh poor Mervyn, i felt bad for him, but I also sniggered. I think i feel more bad than sniggery!
    Tag is exhausting, I got done yesterday...glad that's over with.

  7. My parents used to have a static caravan and the whole site was surrounded by dense woodland. I and a group of about 30 other boys and girls used to spend our weekends climbing giant trees, building treehouses and damning streams. They are some of my greatest childhood memories. I wonder what the next generation's greatest childhood memories will be of? Playing Tomb Raider 3 on a sunday afternoon in front of their TV perhaps?

  8. Mr Thinker: Ooo, it could be YOU next. I'd be quite interested in finding out eight random facts about you. For details see my next posting.

    Mopsa: He doesn't do much for me, I must say. I prefer my men much chunkier!

    Youdefinitelyoutta: We never had bullying, as such, when I was at school but I really wish I'd been kinder to some of my less fortunate classmates. I'm sure I would have laughed at Injury-Prone Boy when really he needed picking up and dusting down!

    Fat Sparrow: Oh, you've just put me off my tea - and that takes some doing I can tell you! What ever happened to booger-eating Fart Boy? He's probably an MP.

    Mr Bananas: You are a disgrace... which is probably why you have a harem of women hanging on your every word.

    Ms Pig: Children are so cruel, aren't they? In mitigation, we were never truly horrible to Pee Boy ... just gave him a wide berth.

    Mike: I hope you did a risk assessment before climbing those trees!

  9. I remember all those childhood games too.

    PS I like those tiny sausage rolls! :)