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Growing Up In Feltwell in the 1950s & 60s – Part – 7. Out of Mischief
As a small child I do not believe I or my friends, moaned too often about having too little to do. If we did we got short thrift from our parents with responses on the theme of “in our day we used to make our own amusement – we didn’t expect everything to be laid on for us.” We would be told of the fun that could be had just whipping a simple wooden top to make it spin or by going fishing with just a length of string and a bent pin (me: “Did you catch much? dad: “No, never caught a thing...”) or tying tin cans to a cat’s back legs (me: “You didn’t...did you?!”) or creeping up behind the old bucket-hole toilets behind the old school when a girl was “in occupation”, opening the rear bucket removal hatch and inserting a long stinging nettle up inside…(My uncle and his best mate were both expelled on their last day at Feltwell school in the early 1930s for that escapade).
I suppose we did get bored occasionally; on long car journeys I was given a note pad and a pencil with the sole purpose of noting down car numbers. This completely pointless exercise was quite commonly performed by very young boys standing on street corners rather like train enthusiasts standing on station platforms. I suppose it kept me quiet though often mum or dad would call them out while I simply wrote them down. Once on a trip to Wales I “collected” over 100.
Hopscotch was a favourite in the early years and gardens had plenty of chalk for marking out the grid. Any more than 3 participants made it far too slow however. I still remember the preferred layout – 3 singles inline; then a double; then a single and then a final double – 8 in total. The trees bordering the school field were good to climb and were also good for games while the sandy (unmetalled) Munson’s Lane was a good play area given the few vehicles which used it.
French Cricket we played with a soft tennis ball and a tennis racquet. This was a game best with at least 4 players who could include boys and girls. The batsman was surrounded by the others, one of whom threw the ball underarm to hit the batsman’s legs below the knee (or getting him caught out as in cricket). The batsman could defend by hitting the ball but once a fielder had the ball, could not move – not even on the spot. That fielder then became bowler. Gradually the fielders got closer to the batsman, so that a long arm might deliver the ball from around the side of the racquet directly onto the legs. The bowler then took his place. Hot Rice was similar but played with no racket or bat. Everyone froze when the bowler held the ball and shouted “Hot Rice!” He then aimed underarm at any person who could move their body but not their feet, to avoid being hit. If they were, then they became the bowler otherwise players could run around until the bowler once more regained the ball.
“Kick the Can” was like hide and seek but anyone hiding could run out from cover and kick an upturned can as hard as they could, whereby all those who had been discovered could run and hide again while the seeker had to fetch the can and start again. When he spotted some-one he had to run to the can and, tapping it with his foot, count: “1,2,3 – I can see Tom!” (or whomever) before anyone kicked it away again.
In the late 1950s there was a huge marble craze. Games were played in two forms. Playing “Holesy” you first threw your marble towards a hole (the drain covers in the playground gutter along the hall wall sufficed for this) then if necessary, you flicked the marble with your fingers into the hole either to “protect” your marble from your opponent; or to win your opponent’s marble after you had holed your own. “Longsy” did not require a hole: you threw in turn across the field with the object of winning your opponent’s marble by hitting it. Although modern “star” shaped colours in clear glass could be bought readily in the village there was a steady supply of old colours and designs, no doubt from old biscuit tins stashed away and long forgotten in cluttered family cupboards.
Indoors, building “working” models of windmills, cars and cranes with my Meccano construction set kept me amused for hours, even if the bright red and green metal sheets and shapes did not create a look of realism. A neighbour had Bayco – a housebuilding set with green plastic bases, into which metal vertical rods were inserted and between which, white, red and black plastic brick panels could be slid in. The roof came in a complete plastic shape imprinted with little tiles: result? A rather grand 1930s house complete with bay fronted windows. Like Meccano, the pleasure was in the building for it did not do very much once completed. Airfix plastic models however were a real joy: just 15 years after WW2 we could build realistic Spitfires, Hurricanes, Lancasters and Wellingtons as well as Dorniers, Heinkels and Messerschmitts relatively cheaply and which all flew perfectly when held firm by an outstretched hand or strung up on the ceiling by thread and a drawing pin. And Hornby and Triang electric train sets were immensely popular from the 1950s for those that could afford them and adding to them did at least solve what to buy for Christmas and birthday presents. Skalextric came along in 1957 and allowed operators to race each other with model racing cars, offering a degree of competitive fun which model trains did not.
From the age of 10 we built real vehicles – once known as “soap-box carts”. The hard part was finding old pram wheels; as car ownership made prams a less convenient option, the supply of wheels dried up. Perhaps that is a reason why the carts are rarely seen today. Removal from the pram was often done only by filing away by hand the rivets securing their axles. That could take hours. The resulting vehicles we called “trolleys”. A decent sized box (with an end removed) formed a cabin and a sturdy plank protruding from it formed a crossbar to the front wheels, to which string was attached – the idea being to steer with the string though everyone simply steered using their feet. Pauline helped me build one and sourced some old red paint from home, before stencilling “The Red Demon” onto its sides in white. We also painted the only personalised number plate I have ever owned: “PAR 24” (Pauline and Robert plus our combined ages).
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