There is always a danger in running a story about playgrounds and how they have changed over a century and a bit.
The temptation is to fasten on the dangers of see saws, hard surfaces, and those nasty, stomach churning roundabouts. Which in turn allows those of a certain age to mutter darkly about “Health and Safety” and the dominance of electronic games and the smart phone amongst the young.
Well, I was part of that generation that went out in the morning in the holidays and pretty much stayed out till time, armed with nothing more than a bottle of Tizer and the price of a bag of chips.
Added to which we did get into scrapes, and once sank to our ankles in the smelly, oil impregnated Thames mud, and frequently fell off the play equipment onto the concrete.
That said certain Health and Safety regulations wouldn’t have gone amiss, and I rather think I would have liked a smart phone.
All of this was prompted by coming across the rocking horses, swings, and slides in the Rec today, which contrast nicely with their counter parts from 1910.
In one sense the similarities are greater than you think, in that both offered endless repetitive play with the added fun of a bit of a challenge. In 1910 that challenge involved seeing who could bump the other off the seesaw, while today it might be who could or manage to take the swing the highest.
And here I confess that back in 1958, the added twist in the swing contest was to see who could shout even louder the refrain “I can see Bognor”, which made little sense as we were firmly in south east London.
But such are the stories of games played at their fullest, remembered 62 years after the event.
Then there were the singing games, which for my generation were about creating a song including as many of the leading characters in the Westerns shown on the TV.
And here I am in danger of sliding into nostalgic tosh, so instead I shall just point to the heap of litter which covered the Rec back on that day in 1910.
Location; the Rec; Beech Road
Pictures; the Rec, 2020, from the collection of Andrew Simpson, and back in 1910 from the Lloyd Collection
The temptation is to fasten on the dangers of see saws, hard surfaces, and those nasty, stomach churning roundabouts. Which in turn allows those of a certain age to mutter darkly about “Health and Safety” and the dominance of electronic games and the smart phone amongst the young.
Well, I was part of that generation that went out in the morning in the holidays and pretty much stayed out till time, armed with nothing more than a bottle of Tizer and the price of a bag of chips.
Added to which we did get into scrapes, and once sank to our ankles in the smelly, oil impregnated Thames mud, and frequently fell off the play equipment onto the concrete.
That said certain Health and Safety regulations wouldn’t have gone amiss, and I rather think I would have liked a smart phone.
In one sense the similarities are greater than you think, in that both offered endless repetitive play with the added fun of a bit of a challenge. In 1910 that challenge involved seeing who could bump the other off the seesaw, while today it might be who could or manage to take the swing the highest.
But such are the stories of games played at their fullest, remembered 62 years after the event.
Then there were the singing games, which for my generation were about creating a song including as many of the leading characters in the Westerns shown on the TV.
And here I am in danger of sliding into nostalgic tosh, so instead I shall just point to the heap of litter which covered the Rec back on that day in 1910.
Location; the Rec; Beech Road
Pictures; the Rec, 2020, from the collection of Andrew Simpson, and back in 1910 from the Lloyd Collection
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