High,low,slow swing..... The playground at Walton School was tiny,split into two to protect us from the biguns by a large,red brick wall. In my first few weeks there I accidentally strayed into bigun territory only to be knocked to the ground having got in the way of a group of boys engaged in hand to hand combat deep in the Burmese jungle. The littleuns part looked onto the road protected by a brick wall topped with spikes. We would jump up on the wall and hang off the spiked railings that is until Janet Davis slipped and impailed herself through the chin. However after a week or so we were back on the wall hanging off the railings once more. One September we returned from our holidays to find four new class rooms where our playgrounds had been and a large square of tarmac laid in the recreation ground a large green space from where we had previously been banned during school hours. This represented freedom for us,no longer constrained by red brick walls and iron railings we could run at will. At the top end of the rec towards the railway was a slight incline where in winter we made slides. Sometimes we could impact snow and ice hard enough to make it last until March or even the beginning of April and we queued to take that run up and then jump on, body at a slight angle and feet sideways to wizz down the sheet of ice and then jump off at the end. There were bumps,bruises and even the odd break but still we played and nobody sued the school. Over by the fence there were Willie Spurrs pigs we would collect acorns to feet them and scratch their bristly necks. Mother wasnt very pleased when one ate the corner of my cardigan. She mended it but unfortunately the pig snot that it left never washed out of the white wool. After so long the pigs would disappear to the nearby slaughterhouse. We knew this but that is the cycle of life and death in a rural community. There was sometimes the added excitement of a bullock escaping from death row and running amok in the playground. We knew then to get out of its way quickly and cheered on the animal from a safe distance as the slaughtermen tried to recapture it. Our games were the usual girl games which the boys would occasionally ambush leading to a general brawl as they were whipped away with skipping ropes. We did sometimes play together at games like off ground tig and kiss catch which the boys pretended not to like but they did allow themselves to get caught fairly easily. My group of friends were big skippers. We spent breaks twining,running and jumping in,peppering and singing. There was somebody under the bed,on the mountain stands a lady, bubble car bubble car number 64 and lots more. We would also sing if we werent skipping there was Oranges and Lemons where we chopped off the last mans head,Lucy Locket who lost her pocket and the farmer in his den where we battered the bone as opposed to patting her if she wasnt popular. We all knew the rules and who twined or started a game was decided by dipping usually either Ink,Pink,Pen and Ink or Spuds, no arguments the playground rules stood. I usually volunteered to stand with the elastics when we did French skipping because I was rubbish at it, I couldnt get much past kneesies where as Lesley Openshaw could usually manage armsies and always won. As summer approached we were allowed equipment at playtime. There were wooden stilts,bean bags and hoola hoops and even impromptu games of rounders at which I excelled as being a left hander I usually managed to get round at least once before the fielders wised up. Over towards the tennis courts the soil was dry and sandy and throughout the early summer our favourite visitors would appear. The area was colonised with what we called sandy bees because of their colour but they were actually miner bees. Although a colony they lived individually in small burrows that they dug in the sand.In these holes they would lay their eggs and leave nectar for the larvae to feed on and reseal the holes which the young bees would dig their way out of once they were ready. We would lie on the ground and poke blades of grass into the unsealed holes until the disgruntled tenant appeared to see what was going on. Miner bees ignore humans and dont sting which is just as well as we tormented them frequently. On sunny days classes would take it in turns to take their desks outside and have lessons in the sun.No hats or sun cream just exposure to the sun and fresh air and we would do maths using measuring wheels or measure the height of trees using pieces of string and the shadows of the elms that grew at the wall near the houses on school lane. In my mind the sun shone on most of my days at the little school in Walton where even learning was fun. We sang our times tables,we sang that 12 pence was one shilling and 18 pence one and sixpence, we ran around the playground and we never thought about what or how much we ate because our exercise through play kept us fit and healthy and of course in good voice!
Posted on: Sun, 29 Jun 2014 00:04:47 +0000