October 20, 2008 | Leave a comment This is where the children played. Do you see? Where the streaks run down the wall near the broken tarmac where the hopscotch pitch was drawn? This is where they swang their ropes, jumped in time to tunes they sang, skipped their feet and clapped out the beat: “one, two, buckle my shoe”. Oh, and here there stood a climbing frame, they used to climb and play some game on turrets they conjured in their mind of far-off castles and knights of old they’d heard in bed-time stories their parents told. Across that path, behind the wire (or course in those days it was not on fire) there stood a type of slide on which they’d glide and scream with breathless joy “look, I’m fast, whee!” Ah, and here, amongst the rubble, you can just make out, the shape of of the old swinging boat. With seven places for happy faces; it bucked and jived and tossed about. Here, just here, the boys marched up and down; team blue, team green, marking time, “to attention”, faking guns with their hands. Girls did girl things, which boys didn’t understand, they didn’t mix which seemed just fine. Look, beyond the stains, by the last of the sheds is the line where you had to wait when break was over or got to school late. They used to poke and push and stand in single file and girls would giggle all the while so teacher would “shoosh”. They didn’t know then that they were free, they scraped their shins and tore their shorts and got muddy knees from simple things. Knights fought dragons and always won, just there, by the slides and the turrets of the castle-come-climbing-frame. Do you see? They kicked balls across the playground and played tig and run-around and kiss-chase in the sunshine, just there by that stack of marker stones. They played conkers on the corner (moved away from all the windows) and rubbed dock on the stings from the nettles. They were innocent. Do you see? Share on Facebook