Playground
 

Norway doesn't have a large population for it's size and it's easy to figure out why... their playgrounds.

http://cellar.org/2015/playground.jpg

Just look at the children about to plunge to their death from cliffs, break their necks falling from trees,
acquiring deadly infections from skidding down sharp stone paths. And running, which never ends well,
but nobody thinks about until someone loses an eye.

My god, the children, won't someone please think of the children. http://cellar.org/2014/willy_nilly.gif

... not to mention being punched from behind and/or pounced on by your buddies.

That shit happens on all playgrounds, I was just noting the semi-unique perils.

Looks very like an adventure playground near where I grew up. Doubt if it's still there now.


Sent by thought transference

Playgrounds, what playgrounds? We played in the damn cotton fields and corn fields. Ever been hit with a cotton bole or a green eat of corn? Didn't think so.

My mama didn't let me play with food. :(

Makes me all misty eyed for the tyre swings of my youth, rigged up by older brothers and dangerously fraying. And you had to be ready to run if they decided to come and "play". Their playing was of the cigarette-smoking, cat-calling, dead-leg-punching-of-little-kids variety.

And the unhygienic places we were driven to, to get some respite.
I was quite affronted when my Mum called my favourite little pond a pool of stagnant water. But in hot summers it did recede enough to show a very interesting spiky piece of orange machinery...

No wonder I was spooked by long grass and the gentle persistence of cows.
I was too used to the skinned knees which came from running through the iron hard furrows of wheatfields, and the musk of damp abandoned mattresses (not to mention the inflated remains of discarded porno mags).

I may have lived on the edge of the countryside, but it wasn't exactly a Famous Five storyline.

Our youths were spent hanging off "monkey bars", where if you lost your grip the fall was onto asphalt. If you were lucky, there was enough molten tar in it to make it a little springy.

That playground is strikingly similar to our backyard of my youth, but not a whole lot of time to play there, and nobody to play with.

We had empty, undeveloped lots on my street in my childhood, and they looked a lot like that, except without the equipment and with a few more trees. Even had the rock ledge poking up.

We'd run around, make little "forts" and ride bikes on the trails that we developed over time.

I'm a safety minded person, but my only pet peeve is stuff that looks safe if you don't give it any thought, but that has hidden dangers. A little cliff is actually not very dangerous at all, because it's hardwired into our DNA to avoid falling off cliffs. But monkey bars over blacktop is dangerous, because kids are gonna climb and fall and break stuff. There was a home made playground posted somewhere on the Cellar years ago, and I disapproved of that one because it encouraged climbing but had significant non-obvious falling hazards all over the place and hard ground underneath.

I remember, at age 11, having a competition one afternoon for who could jump off this one cliff from the highest point. It started as jumping off the 7 foot roof of this one kid's shed, but that was not high enough for us, as we all eventually mastered it. I swear some kids were jumping 10 feet off that cliff but that might just be my faulty memory of it.

That was entertainment back in the day, we had three channels and no video games...

I believe you. And they knew the dangers. In fact, the danger was the draw.

When Mum came up to Otley last year we saw a little girl fall from the monkey bars.
For her size it must have been a great height - thank goodness it was onto the bouncy stuff they use now.
Before she dropped she called out to her father, but there was no-one within hearing range.

I was unconcerned; after she fell she looked to see if anyone had seen and walked away, shaken but seemingly unhurt. Mum wanted to get involved though, because she might have had unseen injuries.
But what can you do? We were on a path that skirts the top of the playground and could not have made it down in time to catch her. I glossed over it, but I know Mum thought about it for quite a while; she brought it up later that evening.

Mum was very protected as a child, not allowed to play "out" until after my Uncle came and claimed all of Nanny's attention.
I was allowed the freedom she never had, because I had my sister and our next door neighbour and the only rule was we stuck together and never, ever separated. And never, not ever, went off with an adult even if it was a friend's parent. Mum said, "If they think you've been rude I will explain it to them later, just come home and tell me or your Dad."

I did wonder about that girl afterwards. But she bounced. That's a good sign, right?

We had/have wild grape vines on the hill where I grew up. We'd cut the vine and try to Tarzan it. I was nothing but tendon and bone but with a run I could get a decent swing out of it. The effects of gravity were more prominent for my buddy so with a little work he could make a good arc. Except that grape vines are not used to those forces. He brought the whole thing down out of the trees and just missed landing over a barbed wire fence. Country playgrounds are the best. Jesus, that was like 40 years ago.