Awoke this morning and noticed it was raining so I stuck my hand out the door and caught a phew drops for closer examination and, as expected
it was just clear liquid and not the scary amber colour predicted by various weather forecasts.
With the chance of a little snow on the horizon my mind did one of its time travel thingies and I ended up back in primary school, aged about seven and with further head clicking that
triggered an old post copied and paster below.
Note this was my primary school memories so the cloths worn were uniform comprising short trousers for the boys and a dress for girls. And we survived...
This is an awful long time ago, let me tell you. I remembered the times happily walking to school through the overnight snow, then all of us kids sitting in the classroom just waiting
for playtime so’s we could get back out into it. Back out into it? Like we had a choice? Back then the weather had to be bad on Biblical proportions before we were allowed to stay indoors. Remember?
At playtime, somehow, natural selection kicked in and within seconds of being out in the snow, two groups had formed, a defensive group and an attacking group. Again, within seconds
the defenders were busy rolling and pushing snow to construct a ‘U’ shaped redoubt. ‘U’ shaped? Of course. Open at the back to facilitate a quick and unobstructed escape should the need arise.
This group sub-divided to form redoubt constructors and ammunition makers with a further ammunition maker sub-group of ruffy tuffy kids secreting stones in their snowballs. Bless
'em.
The attacking group were similarly manufacturing ammunition while a small sub-group was involved with formulating redoubt attacking tactics along the lines of, “We’ll
charge now then.”
Soon battle was joined and the air was filled with flying snowballs, small, and not so small, stones, kids wild screams and, occasionally, from far away, the voice of a teacher reminding
us to be careful. Yeah, right.
Eventually it was close quarters combat. At this time, with ammunition low and not a snowball in hells chance of making a snowball, scratching, biting, a bit o’ hitting an'
kicking was used with no mercy shown by either side. Alarmingly, the girls seemed to be the fiercest close quarter fighters.
All too soon the whistle went and back inside we trooped nursing various scratches, cuts, nose bleeds and the occasional loose tooth, grinning from ear to ear, to wait for the lunch
hour when battle would be rejoined, spookily, from exactly where it left off at playtime.
And teachers reactions when viewing the wet, bedraggled, bleeding, battered, grinning bunch of kids before them? “Who won then? Looks to me like you all lost. Right, what's
next? **Ah, here we are, Health and Safety then Global Warming.”
That was then. Do they still get to do that stuff now? No? Well, I’m so surprised you could knock me down with a stone loaded snowball.
**That bits made up by the way.
Addendumadodad; and now? Cold snap and the NHS, blessed be its name, are advising one and all not to venture out early morning or night time. Oh how well we’re evolving.
Quote; Gary D. Schmidt.
"The light made the snowballs look yellow. Or at least I hoped that was the cause.”
