Playground memories

I still don’t really know why I did it. Forgive me as my memory might not be precise but I will do my best.

We were playing tag. “You’re it!”, we would scream as we tapped our friend on the shoulder. It was quite exciting being in the first year of Junior school. That’s Year 3 to some, others have different names but we were all between the ages of 7 and 8. It was for our protection but we always felt like it was a bit of a punishment that we had our own playground, away from the Year 4, 5 and 6 kids. They were allowed to play football, albeit with a tennis ball and they seemed to have so much free rein. Still, it didn’t really bother us much. We had tag, racing and stickers to swap. We even had Pogs! Remember them?

One of the strange things about having our own playground was that to get to the dinner hall at lunch time, we had to pass by the big kids. There was no wall or any type of barrier between us and them, just a line on the ground to signify a border. We wouldn’t dare break the rules so there was no need for anything else. Therefore, lunch time was the only time that we got to see the full scale of what these 8 – 11 year olds had. We would queue up at the line on the ground. 4 rows, based on our “house” or class grouping, with a teacher blowing a whistle to make sure we were all present, before meandering through to our pizza chips and beans, shepherds’ pie and beans, spaghetti Bolognese… and beans or something else with beans lunch. Believe it or not, I still really like beans. Once dinner was over, it was back to the classroom for the afternoon lessons, where registration would be taken.

Waiting for our turn to make it to the dinner hall, one day, I made a decision. I was standing at the back of the queue and my friends were towards the front. We were the last group to go and the teachers were leading the line. As we passed by the big playground, I kept walking. I didn’t turn with everyone else, I just kept going. I followed the path around the edge of the building, to the front of the school and the road where Mum used to pick me up. I turned left, walked all the way to the main road and kept going. I didn’t look back. Not once. As I walked, I was very careful to wait when the man was red. I knew I could do that properly, I just did! I could smell the bread from my favourite bakery but I didn’t look in. I walked and I walked and I walked, until about 30 minutes later I made it home.

I don’t know why I went home. There were thousands of places I could have run away to but then again, I don’t think I thought I was running away. I think I thought I was showing that I could be an adult, by doing something extremely childish. I think I thought that it was unfair that I wasn’t allowed to go to the bakery by myself. I think I thought it was ridiculous for anyone to else to think that I couldn’t cross a road by myself. I think I might not have really been thinking. My brother certainly didn’t understand what I was thinking. Luckily, he was at home when I rang the bell. He is 10 years older than me and had some legitimately free time.

After questioning me and explaining to me endlessly how much trouble I would be in, he drove me back to school. When I got there, it was like nothing had ever happened. My teacher just got on with the lesson and the other kids behaved perfectly normally. I wondered if they’d noticed. My Mum’s angry, worried, loving hug when she picked me up told me that they did. Later I found out that they were told not to make a fuss as the teachers thought something might be really wrong. It wasn’t. I just didn’t think about what I was doing. Mum said “Never do that again!” and I didn’t.

When we were young

There's something impressionable about retelling stories of our childhood. Those were the years that formed us, after all. During Storytelling with Puck 2022, we were privileged to see the world through more than one child's eyes. Just in case you missed it, here's a little something from Suzanne den Exter:

Magical stories

We talk about the magic of stories a lot but do stories about our childhood cast a more powerful spell? What happens when we're transported into a world gone by? Do we shake our responsibilities for a moment? Do we remember the adventure in everything and anything? Do we hear the first story we were ever told again? Maybe we just feel it. Whatever the reason, childhood stories are powerful. Do you have a memory from years gone by you'd like to share? Let us know in the comments.

We'll be back next week

If you can't wait until then, you can find more from Puck Creations by checking out?King Puck's Wisdom?and you can listen to every podcast released so far by visiting our?Puck Podcast?page. See you soon!