Corrections to the blogosphere, the consensus, and the world

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Autres temps

I realise that I have no idea what small boys play these days. Cops and robbers? Cowboys and indians? Or (as I certainly never see any children running around and falling over or arguing about whether they got you or not, and I don't hear pchow pchow noises) whether they play at all, except on xboxes. As a card-carrying baby boomer we grew up surrounded by other children in every house in every street, enough to form gangs and countergangs at a moment's notice, with no parental oversight, and the rough theatre of continuous invention and running negotiation - "I want to be the heroic dog that dies saving somebody" - was omnipresent.
I can remember playing Warner Brothers cartoons - "and then I run over the edge of the cliff, bzazz bzazz, and woowah, I run back and then pchunck, an anvil falls on you -" but that might have been deviant.
I must ask my nephews when I next see them.

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