Kids And Autumn

[The Picnic Wasp]

This was a busy time for us as kids in the 70s. This dawned on me as I walked gingerly back from the village after my coffee meeting with a couple of old pals. As I paused momentarily outside nosey old Nicol's house to ease the pain in my sciatic hip, I noticed the small apple tree which had been planted against the front garden wall had had a bumper crop this year. Apples were strewn all over the pavement and in the gutter. Dozens remained on the branches causing them to hang over the wall, almost touching the pavement. I was amazed at this, both because of the splendour of the crop and the irony of the fact of the garden they were growing in.

Nosey old Nicol was the blight of our lives growing up. It probably felt like the other way around to her and her quietly spoken husband, but she would scold, harass, bang the window and even phone the police on us at every opportunity. She hated football in the street, hide and seek, kick the can or anything else which brought us dark night joy. Even girls chalking the pavement for hopscotch or peever weren't safe, and the buckets of water would be out to wash away all traces of children having fun. A bit OTT considering how much it rains here.

Those couple of moments stopping there made me think so much though. Where are the kids at night? Those apples would have been consumed, probably before even properly ripe in my youth. We used to scrump cooking apples for goodness sake, taking a few sour bites before admitting defeat. 

Football in the street would probably be a non-starter in any case. Too many expensive SUVs parked in every available space (what's wrong with their driveways?) and DPD vans hurtling about would make for too many enforced stoppages.

This time of year might also see the arrival of the first packs of expensive fart strength bangers. Rubbish, but perfect for putting down drains. The rope trick was legendary. Holding an imaginary rope across the road and bringing the odd car to a standstill although this usually meant a visit from plod was inevitable as they took our names, probably trying not to laugh.

A length of thread, invisible at night, with a button suspended a foot or so from the end could be carefully sellotaped to a neighbour's window and made to rattle the glass at will, then stopped when the curtains or front door opened with just apparently innocent children sitting on a wall opposite chatting happily. Hugely entertaining.

The competition to find and collect the best conkers, sometimes involving death defying trips onto a main road made even worse by the terror and suspense of a stick chucked into the branches becoming temporarily stuck, and only dislodging itself as a car approached. That wasn't so much fun.

So, just a moment yesterday, but which sparked so much, and I could write so much more but all I'd like to ask is "where are the kids now?". Its sad!

[Nick]

In the metaverse piloting spaceships across galaxies. Bit more interesting than conkers probably.