Ed's recent mention of playing war brought back fond recollections of battles with my mates in our back garden back in the sunny Sixties.
We young boys took it very seriously, even using dabs of brown and green shoe polish to camouflage our cheeky faces amongst the hydrangeas and privet hedges! One mate, who's Mum was a nurse, used to bring along stethoscopes and bandages for our very own field hospital under two deck chairs!
However, my fondest memories are reserved for the toy rifles we played with. They were simple crude home-made affairs using old planks of wood as the body with metal gate bolts nailed on to create realistic cocking sounds like the one pictured. I think my Dad made them up in his shed but they were basic enough for us to copy and repair ourselves on the battlefield! I can hear that metallic drag and clunk even now! A wonderful wonderful sound!
It was only when Mum shouted 'Paul, time for tea' that we all called a truce and stacked our weapons ready for the next skirmish in those never-ending summers of lawn wars! Mum's beans on toast and pints of Vimto usually healed any friendships that had been bruised in the action!
After all, boys will be boys, but I wonder if its politically correct any more for kids to tear round a garden playing war? Did it do us any harm? What do you think readers?
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