What, no chair lift back to the top where you lived then, Mick?
The park by us was fantastic for sledging on, it was half a mile from to to bottom and had a very steep slope with a gravel path that ran across it horizontally a quarter of the way down, when you hit it you took off for a few feet.
This area was also lined with trees and I've seen people take off, lose control and hit the trees, broken bones were a regular occurrence.
At the end of the run was a deep drop into a stream so you either had to bail out or try to steer into the gap over the stream that lead to the park gates.
All high adrenaline stuff but the walk back up to the top was a killer.
What, no chair lift back to the top where you lived then, Mick?
Me and a couple of mates used to throw the flighted bamboo canes about. We used beer mats for the flights and full length bamboo canes. We also used them to make bows and shorter arrows.
Bent down to tie my lace one time having retrieved a bamboo javelin and told my mate not to throw his again until I got back to our throwing point. He ignored me, threw the cane which caught in the wind and it went through the back of my hand.
The point which was obviously filthy with soil could be seen stretching the skin on the palm of my hand. So I just pulled it out and threw it straight back from close range as I walked back.
Went through his jeans and stuck about an inch or so into his thigh. We were both extremely lucky he didn't hit me up the @ris though 🤣 .
Same here but you still did it about a dozen times before you got tired and that was usually after hauling back up the hill a car bonnet (we Irish had only just started buying cars so old car dumps would be pilfered during snow/frost time)as no sleds here. We recycled before it became fashionable to do so. Plastic coal bags were the sled of choice as they were easy to carry back up for the next go.
But everything was exercise that we did back then. Going to the shops meant carrying bags of shopping. No wonder my mother is still alive at 94. They lived through the most horrible of times and if they survived, it was a testament to there ability to cope with life and with very little in life.
Now,today, we are afraid to live. Regulation regulation and more regulation.
I should think so too.
We use to make gats or catapults and they were very powerful when finished. There was an old derelict village not far from our house....run down and dilapidated.. it was from around the time of the famine in Ireland (1845/50) and it was a great place to go play war games.
Nearly lost an eye from an opponent who caught me full in the side of the head with a steeler ball.
He was lifted out of it for using it as it was banned from the game because it was deemed to dangerous. Only small stones found in the area were to be used.
Of course marbles were commonly smuggled into the was zone but we tried to stick by rules.. We even had two very pretty young girls who would come over to watch the war and would act as nurses during the hostilities...but that is another story...
We used catapults as well Dubbs, and peg guns. We also used bits of house bricks, large stones and bottles for mockgrenades.
Then there was fun to be had launching rockets from bits of drain piping as it got closer to bomb fire night.
Threw the odd petrol bomb for s hit s and giggles on other occasions too, but rarely in anger and never at each other 😇 .
Wolf whistling a girl.
Having a W a n k to page three and then hearing my old man cussing as he’s searching for his newspaper and heading upstairs! 😩