When the Street Lights Came On

A guest post by my friend, author Mary Reed, who grew up in Newcastle.

As a youngster I spent much time poking about in my parents’ wardrobe, looking for light from the street lamp in a wood by Narnia. And you know, there were times when I was convinced if I could just reach a little further into the wardrobe I would find my way there.

I never managed to do that, but I once lived in a street with a cast-iron gas lamp dating back to the Victorian age. Of the type described in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, it overlooked our outdoor activities and also provided an opportunity to put our skipping ropes to a different use. One of us would climb up on a playmate’s shoulders and tie the rope to the lamp’s crossbar, where lamplighters of old rested their ladders when they lit its lantern. We’d use the rope to swing around the lamp-post. The more daring among us would simultaneously swing around in the opposite direction on a second rope.

In the late fifties we spent more time in the street than many children do today and our play was largely of the traditional type, handed down by the older among us.

How often today do we see youngsters whipping wooden tops around with a bit of string tied to a stick? Do they still play Ring a Ring a Roses, and fall down screaming in a heap at its close? Is the King of the Castle still deposed by participants pulling him off his castle, represented by a pile of whatever material (usually coats) came to hand? What about The Big Ship Sails Through the Alley, Alley Oh, a game academics consider falls into the “thread the needle” category. Imagine my delight when I heard children singing that song decades later – off screen, alas – in A Taste of Honey. Do youngsters still freeze when playing Statues or its first cousin Traffic Lights? The last time I saw either played was in the mid-seventies.

Then there’s conkers (horse chestnuts), a popular pastime for boys in our street. Since we lived in an urban landscape with few trees, it remains a bit of a mystery where they found the raw material, given the nearest greenery was in the cemetery near the top of our street or in a park some distance off. It was whispered some players cheated by boiling their conkers in vinegar to toughen them, increasing their chances of winning. Vinegared or not, conkers were among items routinely confiscated by teachers, along with such forbidden treasures as gobstoppers, small pocket knives, and catapults.

I never could achieve the necessary manual dexterity for two-baller. It struck me as akin to juggling in that the idea was to keep two balls in the air simultaneously, bouncing them alternatively off a wall without dropping one or both. My sister was good at it, including a particularly tricky move where a ball was thrown from under a leg. It must have been maddening to the occupants of a room when played against its wall.

Perhaps the most inventive outdoor activity was when someone organized a back yard production. Films where for one reason or another someone suddenly announces “Let’s put on a show!” remind me of these simple presentations. The stage was made by hanging a sheet over the washing line and the entrance fee was a penny or button or something small of that kind. The programme usually involved singing popular songs or reciting some of the rhymes we all knew, such as those used for skipping.

This is just a snapshot of a time and place long gone. No doubt readers can think of other favourite childhood games. But do they see them played today?

The Victorian gas lamp in our street stood dark for years while modern street lighting regulated our playtime. For when the street lights came on we had to come home. And now they’re coming on one by one for this essay.

Mary Reed and Eric Mayer co-authored the Lord Chamberlain Byzantine mystery series and Grace Baxter WWII mysteries as well as a number of short mystery yarns. Their website is https://reed-mayer-mysteries.blogspot.com.