Childhood Games

During my childhood Uncle Charlie and Aunty Thora who lived over the road had a pet magpie, which shared its time between the two households. Each place possessed two chopping blocks. As soon as one split a piece of wood Joey jumped in to look for grubs and slaters. So one shifted to the next block - my job to cut the kindling, usually old totara that split beautifully. Each axe-blow was expectant treasure trove for Joey.

More importantly, Charlie and Thora had three daughters, Marlene, Robin and Judy. Marlene, younger than me but older than my brother Douglas, full of quips and chuckles like her mother, was as reckless as I was cautious. She would respond to any dare, her presence a good tonic for a serious boy. The five of us played together nearly all our spare time. Whenever Pop my grandfather was around so were his sheep dogs. They joined in our games of rugby, tag, hide & seek, bar the door, tip and run cricket, hopscotch, king of the castle and Indians and Cowboys, colliding and colluding with one another and with us.

We played the same games at school. There were lots of aerial attacks, arms spread out and making whirring noises we attacked, counter-attacked and dive-bombed. "You're dead," "No I'm not" a constant refrain. On the lawn we played ring a ring a rosie and put your left leg in, put your left leg out. Sometimes we played British and Germans but no one wanted to be Germans, they always lost. Joey tried to join in, he couldn't understand why the dogs didn't treat him as one of them. After all the humans treated him as an equal.

After school, weekends, holidays, the five of us played school or house a lot - very stereotyped; me father, Marlene mother, and the other three unruly kids. Mum had a new wood-burning Shacklock stove installed, the old discard lay out the back. Being father seemed to consist of chopping wood for the old stove upon which Marlene cooked. Every now and then Mum would complain at the waste of wood, so we mixed cold pretend food. Some of the concoctions we ate - Mum grew a lot of peas and tomatoes in her garden, we'd mush these up with cochineal nicked from the pantry - it is a wonder we did not poison ourselves.

One day Marlene decided we needed fresh milk for her mixture. One rarely argued with Marlene. "Get some hay," she ordered. We got some out of the barn and billy in hand advanced on the cow. Doug held out the hay. The cow started chewing contentedly. Judy held the billy while Marlene tried to squeeze milk out of the udder. At the unexpected pressure the cow reacted, it couldn't go forwards, Doug was there so it went backwards. Pups were there. The cow went right over them, scattering them squealing but unhurt in all directions. Marlene was not to be beaten. "Hold her".

The cow had other ideas by now. She could carry me hanging on to her neck. "Get her in the bail." Doug got some more hay and laid a trail to the barn. The cow was reluctant to put her head into the trap but we pushed incautiously from behind, (under Pop's gentle administration she'd never learnt to kick) while Doug baited the trap. Greed overcame caution, she put her head through and we had her. But a bailed cow need not deliver milk. To complicate matters one of the pups decided to rumple through the hay the cow was eating and put an experimental paw on the large tongue.

Bucking and twisting the cow tried to pull away. Instinct told her to kick. We felt that whiff of fear that goes with naughtiness and fright. Quickly we freed her. "Didn't know the old girl had it in her," Marlene pronounced. "You've all very quiet," Mum said when we came inside. "The old thing's going dry early this year," Pop commented that evening.

The pups suffered for our games, wrapped up tight in a blanket they replaced the dolls in the girls' prams, squiggling things that sooner or later Houdini escaped over the side to sit looking smug and affectionate at our feet. My other task as father consisted of disciplining the kids. Playing school saw me as teacher and the other four as unruly pupils – a recipe for trouble. Either activity saw lots of threats that usually degenerated into a rough and tumble, sometimes grass or mud fights. Every now and then we would revert to stones which meant either Mum or Thora arriving with angry threats of punishment.

Looking back the striking things about our play is the lack of consumerism. We had few toys. We made our own fun. Except for a few childhood games we played at what adults did in real life or in the movies.