This photo reminds me of our Whitsuntide* festivities as a youngster in the North of England.
Whit Sunday was the day when we showed off our new 'Sunday best' clothes, which were expected to last us for (at least) the next 12 months. But Whit Monday was the day of Games-with-the-kids in the park: the three-legged (pronounced Leg-Ed) race; the wheelbarrow race; the egg-and-spoon race; chase and tag group games; and so on. Great fun for all, usually followed by a simple but festive communal meal in the evening.
Of course, things have moved on, and yet, in some ways, they remain the same. I and my hubby currently live in a medium-sized village community called 'Chastity', one of many such communities that have recently grown up in Britain as a reaction to the life of the Handmaids in the Republic of Gilead, as depicted by Margaret Atwood in her original novel, but now brought to the attention of a much wider public by her just-published follow-up novel and the popular TV serializations.
I like to think, though, that in our new communities, we have not lost our sense of fun. The photo above could, uncannily, have been of me and hubby, in our modern version of the egg-and-spoon race at our last Whit Monday games. Even in the old days, of course, by the time we kids reached our teens, there was always a quasi-sexual frisson in the games, It was always a thrill to feel your male partner's leg and thigh muscles rubbing against you in the three-legged race... and when you both fell over on top of each other... And we girls, in our flared summer frocks, always knew our male partner in the 'wheelbarrow' race was copping an eyeful of our exposed knickers. So, our new modification of the egg-and-spoon race is simply following a well=established tradition. There are some new rules, of course. The girls are expected to wear 'the key' round their necks, as a tease but also because the winner's prize is supposed to be a (usually public) 2-minute release at the end of the race. However, we girls cheated this particular year: we all got together and swapped the keys amongst us, so that the winning male was first faced with a big disappointment, which we then said he could remedy by trying to find the girl with his key, and then doing whatever favour she asked, as the price for her handing the key over. (I think I need to draw a veil over the rest of the proceedings. Suffice it to say, the winner got it wrong twice before he found the correct holder of his key, and that we also then offered the same deal to all the other guys in the race, as a means for them to become reunited (sort of) with their correct keys. Great fun was had by all the girls!)
I think we're on the right lines trying to reinstate some of the fun and joy of the Whitsuntide holiday - even if it is more along the lines of the medieval, rather than the religious, festival. What say you?
MS Christine
___________________________________________________________ *[See, for example, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whitsun ]
We started Locktober years ago and the cage never came off again.
ReplyDeleteThis photo reminds me of our Whitsuntide* festivities as a youngster in the North of England.
ReplyDeleteWhit Sunday was the day when we showed off our new 'Sunday best' clothes, which were expected to last us for (at least) the next 12 months. But Whit Monday was the day of Games-with-the-kids in the park: the three-legged (pronounced Leg-Ed) race; the wheelbarrow race; the egg-and-spoon race; chase and tag group games; and so on. Great fun for all, usually followed by a simple but festive communal meal in the evening.
Of course, things have moved on, and yet, in some ways, they remain the same.
I and my hubby currently live in a medium-sized village community called 'Chastity', one of many such communities that have recently grown up in Britain as a reaction to the life of the Handmaids in the Republic of Gilead, as depicted by Margaret Atwood in her original novel, but now brought to the attention of a much wider public by her just-published follow-up novel and the popular TV serializations.
I like to think, though, that in our new communities, we have not lost our sense of fun. The photo above could, uncannily, have been of me and hubby, in our modern version of the egg-and-spoon race at our last Whit Monday games. Even in the old days, of course, by the time we kids reached our teens, there was always a quasi-sexual frisson in the games, It was always a thrill to feel your male partner's leg and thigh muscles rubbing against you in the three-legged race... and when you both fell over on top of each other... And we girls, in our flared summer frocks, always knew our male partner in the 'wheelbarrow' race was copping an eyeful of our exposed knickers. So, our new modification of the egg-and-spoon race is simply following a well=established tradition. There are some new rules, of course. The girls are expected to wear 'the key' round their necks, as a tease but also because the winner's prize is supposed to be a (usually public) 2-minute release at the end of the race. However, we girls cheated this particular year: we all got together and swapped the keys amongst us, so that the winning male was first faced with a big disappointment, which we then said he could remedy by trying to find the girl with his key, and then doing whatever favour she asked, as the price for her handing the key over. (I think I need to draw a veil over the rest of the proceedings. Suffice it to say, the winner got it wrong twice before he found the correct holder of his key, and that we also then offered the same deal to all the other guys in the race, as a means for them to become reunited (sort of) with their correct keys. Great fun was had by all the girls!)
I think we're on the right lines trying to reinstate some of the fun and joy of the Whitsuntide holiday - even if it is more along the lines of the medieval, rather than the religious, festival. What say you?
MS Christine
___________________________________________________________
*[See, for example, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whitsun ]