Thursday 16th January

It was 1963, the coldest and longest winter in years.  Snow lay three feet deep in places, huge ruts in the quieter roads, where snow-chained cars inched their precarious way with full headlights on.  And even the main roads were filled with black sludge as new snow kept falling for weeks.  I was still in short trousers, and the tops of my legs were chaffed and red where they rubbed.  Still we never missed a day’s school, no matter how bad the snow and ice.

Within a few days there was a thirty foot long slide in the main playground.  It was compacted snow and ice and every snowfall just added to its slipperiness.  It became our major source of entertainment.  Rows of boys and a few intrepid girls would form and patiently wait our turn.  A good run up was essential and then like a long jumper you just launched yourself into the air and trusted to fortune.   If lucky you stayed on your feet, often spinning 360 degrees in the process.  Hunkering down with arms spread like plane wings was the best.  All too often you went down the entire length of the slide on your back, to even more cheers I might add, because the slide was packed with onlookers all muffled up from the biting cold.

And where were the teachers?  Where was health and safety?  Where any concern for our safety?  Why, the teachers not huddled in the tobacco smoke filled staff room were out there with us, cheering us on, and one or two of the younger ones even having a go themselves.  Remarkably no-one broke a leg, or cracked their skull open.  A few grazes, worn as badges of honour, the odd bleeding finger but no major injuries at all.

We were having the time of our lives.