Seturday mornin, an I wis haein a daunder alang the road wi ma twa dugs. Gled as I wis tae be outside efter sic a miserable week o pourin rain, there wis still a muckle dub streetchin hauf wey ower ma path. There wis naebody else aboot for aw it wis a fine day. Leukin at the dub, an thinkin back tae masel as a bairn, I ken I wad hae been there, aither measurin it for lowpin ower or plowterin richt throu it. An no juist me; but alang wi ma brithers an aw the ither bairns oot tae play in the street like we aye did. Sic rare fun we haed wi dubs!
I’m laith tae say it, but dubs the day ar mair like tae be disturbit by a caur raither than a bairn. As faur as I can tell juist fae ma ain observations, bairns dinnae seem tae be ower keen tae play outside ony mair. I haurdly see them. Gaein by the habits o the bairns I dae see, an ken weel, unless it’s something organised that taks them oot, they ar mair like tae be sittin in the hoose thirlt tae the screen o an Xbox or anither electronic device; aw their fun bein played oot wi their pals in cyberspace raither than the real warld.
An takkin tent o hou mony o them get wheeched richt tae the scuil gates in the back o a caur, it stairts tae mak sense hou it is sae mony bairns o this generation ar shawin signs o cairryin ower muckle wecht; I jalouse it’s no aw fae eatin sugary stuff, but mair tae dae wi no muivin aboot eneuch. It disnae dae a neeborhood ony guid aither whan the bairns wha bide in it ar haurdly seen oot an aboot. It’s anither threid lost atween generations. I dae think baith the bairns an community ar the waur o it.
In oor day we bairns war weel kent by awbody bidin roond aboot. They wad see us fae their windaes an gie us a wave as we traipsed back an forrit tae the scuil; pass the time o day whan we war oot playin in the street, bytimes askin ane o us tae gae a wee message; aiblins for a forpit o tatties fae the shop, or up tae the pigs pail at the tap o the street wi the peelins. An it wirkit baith weys. They gied us empty bottles tae mak sugarallie watter, jam jars for tadpoles an the like. E’en sortin oor ills like takkin a spail oot a sair haund or pittin a plaister on a skint knee. But, it aye wis dinnit intae us at hame that we war niver tae gae intae onybody’s hoose e’en if invitit. We haed tae stey at the door.
Whan we cam hame efter the scuil, we got a piece slaithirt in treacle or condensed milk; than it wis straucht oot tae play. Simmer nor winter, we warnae encouragit tae sit aboot the hoose. In the cauld weather we war happit in nap coats agin the snell winds, but still they gied us scaudit legs an itchy chilblains on oor taes!
Sae mony excitin gemms we haed! We lued Levoy, Chasie, Hide an Seek, Kick the Can, Throu the Fermer’s Tunnel; that last ane cairit forfeits for them as didnae rin fast eneuch! The laddies in partícular playit Cowboys an Indians or Coos an Ingans, as we kent it, whoopin their wey alang the passage atween the hooses tae dreep the dyke at the end intae the nixt street. A crabbit wifie plaistert the dyke wi cement an stuck big jaggy bits o broken gless in it tae keep the bairns awa. There wis sic a stramash wi her neebors she haed tae gae oot wi a rasp an file it doun till it wis smooth again!
We war niver short o things tae dae. “Hunty gowk” could be heard shoutit aw ower the street as we catchit oot freends an neebors wi oor April Fuils. On Victoria Day at the end o Mey there war bonfires aw ower the toun. We haed ours on the causey stanes at the tap o the road. We collectit firewid for days afore it, bytimes fechtin ower the ownership o it wi bairns fae ither streets. Ma brither was taen prisoner in a fecht an oor faither haed tae gae an get him. He wis twa streets awa tied tae a palin stab wi a claes rope, a pile o wid stackit up roond him! His jylers awa in for their tea!
It’s haurdly surprisin there wisnae a peck o fat on ony o us. If we warnae rinnin, we war climbin; up lamposts, ower railins. We skippit wi ropes, playit at roonders wi a bat an baw; peevers wi an empty bootpolish tin, chalkin oot beds on the road wi pipe clay fae the drysauters. We haed races wi girds, rinnin alangside as we rollit them wi a stick up an doun the street. Spinnin a peerie an keepin it gaein wi a whip wis a skeel we aw haed tae maister! An o coorse, we makkit things! Gutties fae forkit twigs an a string o wee rubber bands. Pellets tae fire in them wi ticht foldit bits o paper. Guiders fae auld crates whan we could find the wheels, hurtlin heid first doun the brae an roond the corner like luge drivers at the Olympics but wi’oot the safety element.
I cannae help but think we war a lucky generation. The anely caur owner in oor street wis a drivin instructor! An we didnae hae the siren lure o the myriad o smaw screens that beguile an transfix sae mony young fowk the day. I anely wish I could turn the clock back juist for a day an gie bairns a taste o the active life that we haed. It micht encourage them tae gae outside an hae some real fun an gemms!
For tips on readin Scots, alang wi a glossar o common wirds, see oor cutty guide (written in English).
|aboot (pronounced ‘aboot’)||aboot|
|forpit||a measure of weight used mainly for the sale of root vegetables|
|guider||a home-made children’s cart steered with a rope|
|palin stab||fence post|
Social media thumbnail image: National Librar o Scotland
Aw weel, efter readin hoo it wuz whin you were wee,, I wuz mindin being a bairn again an I agree fu weel wi a ye say. I jist dinna ken whit like they bairns wull be when they grow up.
I dinnae think they’ll cope sae weel . Bairns the day ken a lot mair than we iver did. But no in a guid wey. Thae are owre-protectit for fear thae micht get hurt. Ye cannae blame parents whan 24 hour news hae put a bogeyman roond ivery corner. Yet the bairns are exposed tae aw mainner o violence an grown up themes throu screens big an sma.
Ye cuid say we war likly mair streetwise. Mair roundit. Playin in big groups o aw ages , laddies an lassies, we learnit tae get on thegither, sharin, compromise, staundin up for yersel, rules etc. The things that gied ye confidence an helpit ye tae grow.
Aye, ye’re no wrang; Ah think bairns noo dae spend ower mony oors in ben the hoose, gaupin at screens. Mony mair oors nor they did whan Ah wis a bairn, an Ah’m ainly twinty! Ah doot this is a problem ower aw the sae-cried “developed” warld, whaur thir things are sae plentifu; bairns are jist no gaun ootside tae play ony mair. They dinna ken hoo. A ween o thaim fair hate it – it’ll aye be “ower het”, “ower cauld”, “ower weet”, or ense thare’ll be “naething tae dae”. An, as ye said, the wyte’s no aw on thaim. Thare’s mair cars, tae stert wi, an it’s no aye as sauf tae play ootdoors in the street as it ance wis. An forbye their parents are gey an canny nooadays, mibbes ower canny – mibbes “fleggit” is mair the wird Ah’m seekin. Sae o coorse the bairns stey ben the hoose an dinna gae oot; whan ye parents are fleggit, hoo will ye no be fleggit yersel?
But Ah’m a richt hypocrite masel, scrievin thir things on ma computer an steyin ben the hoose while Ah dae it! An it’s no even that Ah dinna think aw screens an modren devices are bad an shouldna be uised, ken. In mony weys they’re gey an haundy. But Ah dae think thare’s ower mony o thaim in uise an no eneuch folk sayin, “Awricht, that’s aw the ‘screentime’ for today. Time tae gae oot!”
Ony road, thir memories o yers are bonnie, an taud sae weel. Ah’m ainly twinty, as Ah said, sae Ah canna feel the nostalgia for thae days, but Ah dae feel a kind o greenin for thaim, an Ah wiss they could come back. Thank ye for sharin thaim wi the warld! An forgie me gin ma Scots is no jist richt; Ah’m frae America an Ah’m learnin it at hame ma ain sel, sae Ah dinna aye uise the richt wird the richt wey 🙂
Yer daein awfy weel wi the Scots leid Mary. An mony thanks for the kind wirds.
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