In the 1960s, parents knew what to do with kids. They shoved us in the back of the Zodiac, drove to the pub, left, locked the car doors, and every hour came out to poke a bottle of fizzy pop and a plastic straw through the window. If we were doing well, we got a packet of crisps.
That level of parental attention was considered sufficient to ensure the crazy child-snatching axeman hadn't dropped by the car park to harvest new victims.
And as for making every living breathing moment a kid-friendly learning-rich experience? Forget it. No proper drinking pub in their right minds would be interested in providing kids with stuff to do. So in the back of the Zodiac we had to make our own amusement last for two hours with one chewed up plastic straw.
I am proud to say I have followed in the footsteps of my parents. Look at this achievement. We waited ten years to abandon the kids outside, ignore them completely, and take ourselves inside the pub.
Girls, at least you got swings.
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3 comments:
I can remember my Dad being very enthusiastic about the arrival of pubs with 'beer gardens' where Mum would allow us precious little flowers to while away a couple of hours supplied with lemonade and crisps. I trust you let the gritlets have similar supplies . . .
Long gone are rusty agricultural things and rabid dogs I suppose? Beer gardens aren't what they used to be...... Bloody kids don't know they're born.
'swhy i drink at home. *hic*
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