The joy of six .... alternative forms of amusement (II)

What else to did we get upto, on the cusp of adolescence and staying out late after kerfew ?

Well (rubs finger guiltily around shirt collar), at the time we thought that running around the neighbourhood, jumping into back gardens and breaking washing lines was pretty innocent.

I wouldn't say that we targeted specific gardens more than others, but it's fair to admit that we opted for the ones that were easy to enter with low walls, gates that had well oiled hinges and were attatched to houses that had an elderly occupant who didn't have a vicous dog with sharp teeth (poodles and tekels were small fry)

In the same spirit, we also took to using privet hedges as our own trampoline whereby we'd spy a hedge on the way home from school, check out the best escape route 'just in case', then, once it was suitably dark, we'd set about our fun : gloriously diving onto the sponge-like bush.

Points would be awarded for the best and most fearless dive, with a headfirst dive rating a 5, a backwards flop worth a 3 and full 'Star Splash' worth a 8 or a 10 if the bush was 'risky' ie : backed up by a brick wall or leading directly into a garden or (the most deadly) just under a living room window and so in full 'view' to the occupants.

After a few months of bouncing on all things springy, we decided to spice things up with an iron man style challenge:

Who would be the quickest to run around the block with an obstacle course consisting of three broken washing lines, two hedges, a climb onto the roof of Mr Wheeler's garage then jumping from there onto the tree in Mr Woodman's garden then over his wall and onto the shed of Mr Bates ... and so on

I think we must have played this game on and off for about two months ...

... for about two months until we were well and truly rumbled

Rumbled big time, when the seven of us (the two Steves, Sean, Chris, Darrel, Martin and yours truly) got whacked

We'd thought hard about our new course: we wanted a challenge

We'd carefully considered the order of things and who'd start, who'd be the spotter for each run, who'd be the official time keeper (Mikaela, the only girl .. but she was 'little' Steeve's sister, so she didn't count)

We set off on the first run at about seven on a chilly winters evening with Darrel, the youngest, all guns blazing.

He'd made good progress, had Darrel, for someone with short legs, right upto the challenge in Missus Coombes' back yard.

As his spotter, Chris had the unfortunate vanatge point of seeing Darrel take a running jump ... then ... *phwannnngggg* ... he was caterpulted straight up into the air, landed in heap in the dirt with cut lip and his two front teeth 'en moins'

Missus Coombes' son had had enough of changing her washing line every sunday morning and so had replaced the standard nylon one with another in 3mm thick cable ...

Just like dominoes falling, one by one, porch lights came on and front doors opened in response to Darrel's catterwaling

People came out and in a hue and cry worthy of any Dickens novel, dragged Darrel and Chris off to confront their parents (and subsequently to the A&E for Darrel)

And me ?

*Scritch scritch* I was already on my run , was running like the wind, was well inside 'the time' and only had to jump into Mr Witham's hedge for an easy 3 points.

I jumped.
Mr Witham's garage door went *kreeeeek*
Mr Witham was out of his trap
And ....
"They're off"

Sean's already up and over the nearest garden wall wall, off to safety

Me ...

Well, i guess i must've made about fifty yards before old man Witham caught me and started to whack me with his flashlight.

To this day, i'm not convinced that he was giving me a 'good seing to', it was more for show - more about putting the frightners on, as it were

Whatever, as i was cowering on the ground, with the blows raining in and the neighbours pouring out in a true wild west lynch mob stylie ('Gwaaaan do 'im') i could feel my legs becoming warmer and warmer, as if i was lowering myself into a luke warm bath ...

Once dragged back to the Witham house hold :
'Mauuu-reeeeeen, call the police'
'John, don't you think the boy's had enough for one night, look', she said pointing 'the boy's peed in his pants'
'S'not enough'

Never -the-less, i was off scot free, much chastened and highly embarassed