It is often said that when one grows up one must ‘put away childish things’. Well, one cupboard crammed full of teddy bears later, and we were still no nearer to being ‘proper’ adults.
Drastic action was called for…
The Swingball had to go!
To be fair though, it is a classic game. I remember playing a lot of solo Swingball (yes, I really was that sad) on the back lawn in the mid-1980s. I don’t recall exactly which year, but it was very hot, and the Goombay Dance Band were in the charts. I actually lost a couple of stone in weight through my exertions. Swingball, then, was, as I remembered it, a Good Thing.
A year or two ago, Shana and I bought a new version of Swingball, planning to play it indoors 🙂 but we had not reckoned on the limitations of our living room’s hobbit-esque dimensions.
One thwack of the ball from Shana and I realised with horror…
She doesn’t know her own strength!
The ball whizzed around at a zillion miles an hour like a mini-spaceship sucked into the gravitational field of a gas giant. I ducked quicker than an England batsman, and the Wade Whimsies finally copped it and became Wade Smithereens. (Look out for them soon on Flog It).
It’s trendy to make fun of the British obsession with Health and Safety. But in our experience, it seemed far better to put the Swingball up for sale so that we could live a little longer.
Anyway, I just thought of something else I had way back when I was but a nipper. I had a toy gun that fired little plastic arrows with rubber suction cups on the end. We could get the bears out of the cupboard and have hours of fun playing cowbogs and injuns with them. Now, where would be the harm in that?