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Archive for April, 2010

That’s it. I’m officially old. The youth have spoken.

Well…’a’ youth.

Without giving too much away… dealing with a tearful young’un today, I strongly suggested that they brought to my attention any beef they had with their peers. At this point, the tears dried up and a smile broke across their face.

When I welcomed, but questioned, the smile, I was told that they never expected an old person like me to use the word ‘beef’ in this way.

The canyon has never felt so wide.

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Sitting here, watching my 3 year old son tear around a colourful, padded, corner-free ball-park, I feel my inner retro hark back to a day when all we had was your traditional adventure playground comprising of coloured planks of splintered wood tenuously held together by 6 inch nails even more tenuously hammered in.

The clich├ęd old fart in me wants to cry out how things were different in my day. How part of the fun was the threat of imminent injury lurking just around the next jagged corner, or the thrill of finally managing to get 5 of your mates on a single knotted swinging rope and come out of it with both legs still intact. I want to validate each and every terrifying near death experience as an example of character building development …but I can’t.

For those old things were evil; they scared me to death. Whether it was the tough kids that played there or the apparatus itself, I don’t know. Probably a combination of the two. I actually broke my arm on one of these things as a child when I didn’t quite make a jump from one platform to the next, landing 12 feet below on sun-baked dirt&stones with an audible snap! Those wooden behemoths emitted fear out of every platform, ladder and rope swing for good reason: they were lethal.

So, for once, my inner retro will happily relegate these memories to a dark corner of my psyche and proudly admit that the modern day explosion of padded colour, balls and obstacles are much better than the assisted suicide contraptions we had back in the day. Things weren’t better back then.

If the old fart in me needs an outlet then it can be one of trying to rubbish something I’m actually quite jealous of as, truth be told, I would have loved something like this when I was a kid.

So you tear away, son. I’m content with the knowledge you’ll be a kip before we hit the dual-carriageway, and that a trip to A&E won’t be necessary this afternoon.

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I passed this advert at a bus stop today…

…beware of anarchists wearing suits!

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