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There was the direct approach to the park, or the way which the children favoured; through the grounds of the Big House. Crawling past the out buildings, rustling through the rhodendron bushes, charging through the small wood. The breathless assent over the wooden fence. Their gleeful victory over the adults adding an excitement to the whole adventure.
Because, every trip out was an adventure; fraught with danger from bandits, attack from natives, rival gangs of kids, or from adults seeking retribution.
This day, the two small children made their way to the wooden fence, undetected, buzzing with excitement, for they knew the grass cutter had been! There would be heaps, piles, mountains, of cut grass!
Giggling, they hauled themselves onto the fence, and , hanging there a moment, surveyed their patch. Ah! Bliss! There it was…long lines of cut grass, the smell of the newly mown delight hanging heavy in the hot air, teasing and tickling the noses of the children, as they clambered over, dropping heavily into their park, wide happy smiles on their dirty faces.
The boy pulled the hand of his friend, as she lay in the dust, examining a long smear of green that had slid from the fence onto her t shirt. She was looking surprised, the mark seeming so big, so GREEN. As he tugged at her, the little girl laughed, her pale freckled face losing its pinched look, and she allowed herself to be dragged toward the first lovely line of grass.
The boy and the girl paused, assessing their building material, and they exchanged excited, knowing smiles. With no words, for these two were soul-mates indeed, they set about their self-appointed task. The casual observer would have been hard pressed to decide just what it was that these two were so busy at. The children were scooping armfulls of cut grass, laying them into lines, wadding, piling, fashioning.
Only the squirrels,and the many birds that lazily fluttered from tree to tree, could see what was happening. The grass was rapidly forming a modern Roman ruin, the small walls and door spaces marking the rooms of the house, and as the walls were formed, the children began to chatter, their high voices , one broad scottish, the other distincly newcastle ,incongruos in the rural town set in the southern home counties.
They worked zealously, and ,as the dust and grass stuck to their sweaty faces, their smiles softened, their goal in sight.
Finally, labours at an end, the pair stood outside their lovely home. The boy held the hand of his wife, as she proudly waited for him to open the door to their sanctuary. He turned to her, tenderness in his brown eyes, as he gently steered her inside. The couple examined every part of the house, never having seen it before, exclaiming at the space, the layout of the rooms, the lack of any one else.. this was their new home, one in which they alone would live, safe from the others.
Hand in hand, the small couple lay down on their grassy bed, and joined in an embrace that, had anyone seen, would have been poignantly touching. They gazed dreamily through the glass ceiling at the fluffy clouds that sailed past.
Then began the game they called simply, The cloud game: one child would close their eyes, listening, as the other described a cloud, using all the skill of their 9 years, and stroking, lovingly, the hand of their partner. Then it was time for the listener to snap open their eyes..scan the sky, and identify the cloud - quickly, before the wind ripped it apart, before it drifted into the arms of another. Only correctly identified clouds scored.
And the prize was a wish, and the wish was always the same. The wish was never spoken out loud, for the children had no need, their eyes spoke the same language. They wished fervantly, and every dissapointment would be shoved aside with a mental frown of regret, but they always persisted in their dreams . Was wishing for a peaceful life too much? Was it greedy? But they perservered, with the gritty determination that only two small survivors could.
As the sun beat down, and the flies buzzed, the tranquil scene warmed the pale faces, teasing out more freckles, turning the skin of these two a blushing pink. The trees rustled their leaves in a soft whisper, promising happier times, of keeping safe this spot, of running away to the clouds.
The children often viewed these transient bodies as their chariots to freedom, the trick was to discover the way to them. They so wanted to climb aboard a cloud, to be blown away from here, far, far away to the land the girl had read of, and had recounted to the boy.
It was a land of plenty. Plenty food, plenty drink, and oh! Plenty of cuddles and soft words. A world where small children were picked up by benevolent adults , whose only desire was to see children laugh and smile.
That this place existed was never in doubt, the children held fast to the knowledge that this world would one day open its hidden door to them, beckon them come join the other happy ones. They had only to discover that door.
The minutes stretched out, as the children, entwined, closed their eyes. The sun became their blanket. With a magical smoothness, they were sucked into the clouds, there to be carried along through the blue world. Although terribly high, the boy and girl were cushioned from harm, the fluffy clouds soft and cosy. The clouds sailed majesticaly along, floating with their passengers, travelling lazily towards the other place.
Nothing stirred, as the two slept, happy in their shared dream. Until the whirr of byciles and the gruff shouts of men awoke them, dragging the children swiftly yet silently back to the grassy bed, flatter now.
As they opened their eyes, the boy and girl saw they were back on the ground once more. With sighs, the pair slowly gathered their thoughts. The sun had slipped behind the factory roof, the shadows had stretched down from the wooden fence, touching the walls of the home. It was time to leave, time for hurrying back to their respective homes, and all that that entailed.
Helping each other out of bed, they cast disgruntled looks at the silly grass walls of their pretend house. The clouds were just clouds, and they had slept in the sunshine, a waste of sleep. Dreams that were needed for later had been squandered on a sunny afternoon .
Anxious to erase all trace of their folly, the children set about destroying this house. With yells of self mockery, they kicked at the walls. They tossed the bed into the air, watching with grim glee the mattress being taken up by the breeze, scattered back onto the field where it had grown. In a frenzy of thwarted hope, they razed to the ground the walls so carefully constructed.
Until, flushed and spent, there was little to show of the house that had been their home. Just a field, mown grass kicked and spread about, with the two small children standing together, grass-stained and dirty ,silent now.
Returning home at this time of the day was not safe via the grounds of the Big House. The owner would shortly be home from work, and he held the neighbourhood children in poor regard. He was not above reporting trespassers to parents, who, shamed, would firmly remind their offspring of the rule ‘Thou shalt not trespass’. Good hidings collected thus were not soon forgotten; the shame of seeing the knowing look on the owners face did much to encourage the children to be canny with their trespassing.
With tea -time fast approaching, the children ran out of the field, through the small play park, racing up the hill to their parting-place.
Once there, the boy laid a casual arm across the thin shoulders of the girl, his own slight frame pressed momentarily once more against that of his best friend. She gave him a conspiritorail grin, then it was over, this special sharedness.
He ran off home, not looking back, as she hurried to her own house, and both children ,as their respective back doors were reached, hesitated a beat Time to rejoin the real world.
Because, every trip out was an adventure; fraught with danger from bandits, attack from natives, rival gangs of kids, or from adults seeking retribution.
This day, the two small children made their way to the wooden fence, undetected, buzzing with excitement, for they knew the grass cutter had been! There would be heaps, piles, mountains, of cut grass!
Giggling, they hauled themselves onto the fence, and , hanging there a moment, surveyed their patch. Ah! Bliss! There it was…long lines of cut grass, the smell of the newly mown delight hanging heavy in the hot air, teasing and tickling the noses of the children, as they clambered over, dropping heavily into their park, wide happy smiles on their dirty faces.
The boy pulled the hand of his friend, as she lay in the dust, examining a long smear of green that had slid from the fence onto her t shirt. She was looking surprised, the mark seeming so big, so GREEN. As he tugged at her, the little girl laughed, her pale freckled face losing its pinched look, and she allowed herself to be dragged toward the first lovely line of grass.
The boy and the girl paused, assessing their building material, and they exchanged excited, knowing smiles. With no words, for these two were soul-mates indeed, they set about their self-appointed task. The casual observer would have been hard pressed to decide just what it was that these two were so busy at. The children were scooping armfulls of cut grass, laying them into lines, wadding, piling, fashioning.
Only the squirrels,and the many birds that lazily fluttered from tree to tree, could see what was happening. The grass was rapidly forming a modern Roman ruin, the small walls and door spaces marking the rooms of the house, and as the walls were formed, the children began to chatter, their high voices , one broad scottish, the other distincly newcastle ,incongruos in the rural town set in the southern home counties.
They worked zealously, and ,as the dust and grass stuck to their sweaty faces, their smiles softened, their goal in sight.
Finally, labours at an end, the pair stood outside their lovely home. The boy held the hand of his wife, as she proudly waited for him to open the door to their sanctuary. He turned to her, tenderness in his brown eyes, as he gently steered her inside. The couple examined every part of the house, never having seen it before, exclaiming at the space, the layout of the rooms, the lack of any one else.. this was their new home, one in which they alone would live, safe from the others.
Hand in hand, the small couple lay down on their grassy bed, and joined in an embrace that, had anyone seen, would have been poignantly touching. They gazed dreamily through the glass ceiling at the fluffy clouds that sailed past.
Then began the game they called simply, The cloud game: one child would close their eyes, listening, as the other described a cloud, using all the skill of their 9 years, and stroking, lovingly, the hand of their partner. Then it was time for the listener to snap open their eyes..scan the sky, and identify the cloud - quickly, before the wind ripped it apart, before it drifted into the arms of another. Only correctly identified clouds scored.
And the prize was a wish, and the wish was always the same. The wish was never spoken out loud, for the children had no need, their eyes spoke the same language. They wished fervantly, and every dissapointment would be shoved aside with a mental frown of regret, but they always persisted in their dreams . Was wishing for a peaceful life too much? Was it greedy? But they perservered, with the gritty determination that only two small survivors could.
As the sun beat down, and the flies buzzed, the tranquil scene warmed the pale faces, teasing out more freckles, turning the skin of these two a blushing pink. The trees rustled their leaves in a soft whisper, promising happier times, of keeping safe this spot, of running away to the clouds.
The children often viewed these transient bodies as their chariots to freedom, the trick was to discover the way to them. They so wanted to climb aboard a cloud, to be blown away from here, far, far away to the land the girl had read of, and had recounted to the boy.
It was a land of plenty. Plenty food, plenty drink, and oh! Plenty of cuddles and soft words. A world where small children were picked up by benevolent adults , whose only desire was to see children laugh and smile.
That this place existed was never in doubt, the children held fast to the knowledge that this world would one day open its hidden door to them, beckon them come join the other happy ones. They had only to discover that door.
The minutes stretched out, as the children, entwined, closed their eyes. The sun became their blanket. With a magical smoothness, they were sucked into the clouds, there to be carried along through the blue world. Although terribly high, the boy and girl were cushioned from harm, the fluffy clouds soft and cosy. The clouds sailed majesticaly along, floating with their passengers, travelling lazily towards the other place.
Nothing stirred, as the two slept, happy in their shared dream. Until the whirr of byciles and the gruff shouts of men awoke them, dragging the children swiftly yet silently back to the grassy bed, flatter now.
As they opened their eyes, the boy and girl saw they were back on the ground once more. With sighs, the pair slowly gathered their thoughts. The sun had slipped behind the factory roof, the shadows had stretched down from the wooden fence, touching the walls of the home. It was time to leave, time for hurrying back to their respective homes, and all that that entailed.
Helping each other out of bed, they cast disgruntled looks at the silly grass walls of their pretend house. The clouds were just clouds, and they had slept in the sunshine, a waste of sleep. Dreams that were needed for later had been squandered on a sunny afternoon .
Anxious to erase all trace of their folly, the children set about destroying this house. With yells of self mockery, they kicked at the walls. They tossed the bed into the air, watching with grim glee the mattress being taken up by the breeze, scattered back onto the field where it had grown. In a frenzy of thwarted hope, they razed to the ground the walls so carefully constructed.
Until, flushed and spent, there was little to show of the house that had been their home. Just a field, mown grass kicked and spread about, with the two small children standing together, grass-stained and dirty ,silent now.
Returning home at this time of the day was not safe via the grounds of the Big House. The owner would shortly be home from work, and he held the neighbourhood children in poor regard. He was not above reporting trespassers to parents, who, shamed, would firmly remind their offspring of the rule ‘Thou shalt not trespass’. Good hidings collected thus were not soon forgotten; the shame of seeing the knowing look on the owners face did much to encourage the children to be canny with their trespassing.
With tea -time fast approaching, the children ran out of the field, through the small play park, racing up the hill to their parting-place.
Once there, the boy laid a casual arm across the thin shoulders of the girl, his own slight frame pressed momentarily once more against that of his best friend. She gave him a conspiritorail grin, then it was over, this special sharedness.
He ran off home, not looking back, as she hurried to her own house, and both children ,as their respective back doors were reached, hesitated a beat Time to rejoin the real world.
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There was the direct approach to the park, or the way which the children favoured; through the grounds of the Big House. Crawling past the out buildings, rustling through the rhodendron bushes, charging through the small wood. The breathless assent over the wooden fence. Their gleeful victory over the adults adding an excitement to the whole adventure.
Because, every trip out was an adventure; fraught with danger from bandits, attack from natives, rival gangs of kids, or from adults seeking retribution.
This day, the two small children made their way to the wooden fence, undetected, buzzing with excitement, for they knew the grass cutter had been! There would be heaps, piles, mountains, of cut grass!
Giggling, they hauled themselves onto the fence, and , hanging there a moment, surveyed their patch. Ah! Bliss! There it was…long lines of cut grass, the smell of the newly mown delight hanging heavy in the hot air, teasing and tickling the noses of the children, as they clambered over, dropping heavily into their park, wide happy smiles on their dirty faces.
The boy pulled the hand of his friend, as she lay in the dust, examining a long smear of green that had slid from the fence onto her t shirt. She was looking surprised, the mark seeming so big, so GREEN. As he tugged at her, the little girl laughed, her pale freckled face losing its pinched look, and she allowed herself to be dragged toward the first lovely line of grass.
The boy and the girl paused, assessing their building material, and they exchanged excited, knowing smiles. With no words, for these two were soul-mates indeed, they set about their self-appointed task. The casual observer would have been hard pressed to decide just what it was that these two were so busy at. The children were scooping armfulls of cut grass, laying them into lines, wadding, piling, fashioning.
Only the squirrels,and the many birds that lazily fluttered from tree to tree, could see what was happening. The grass was rapidly forming a modern Roman ruin, the small walls and door spaces marking the rooms of the house, and as the walls were formed, the children began to chatter, their high voices , one broad scottish, the other distincly newcastle ,incongruos in the rural town set in the southern home counties.
They worked zealously, and ,as the dust and grass stuck to their sweaty faces, their smiles softened, their goal in sight.
Finally, labours at an end, the pair stood outside their lovely home. The boy held the hand of his wife, as she proudly waited for him to open the door to their sanctuary. He turned to her, tenderness in his brown eyes, as he gently steered her inside. The couple examined every part of the house, never having seen it before, exclaiming at the space, the layout of the rooms, the lack of any one else.. this was their new home, one in which they alone would live, safe from the others.
Hand in hand, the small couple lay down on their grassy bed, and joined in an embrace that, had anyone seen, would have been poignantly touching. They gazed dreamily through the glass ceiling at the fluffy clouds that sailed past.
Then began the game they called simply, The cloud game: one child would close their eyes, listening, as the other described a cloud, using all the skill of their 9 years, and stroking, lovingly, the hand of their partner. Then it was time for the listener to snap open their eyes..scan the sky, and identify the cloud - quickly, before the wind ripped it apart, before it drifted into the arms of another. Only correctly identified clouds scored.
And the prize was a wish, and the wish was always the same. The wish was never spoken out loud, for the children had no need, their eyes spoke the same language. They wished fervantly, and every dissapointment would be shoved aside with a mental frown of regret, but they always persisted in their dreams . Was wishing for a peaceful life too much? Was it greedy? But they perservered, with the gritty determination that only two small survivors could.
As the sun beat down, and the flies buzzed, the tranquil scene warmed the pale faces, teasing out more freckles, turning the skin of these two a blushing pink. The trees rustled their leaves in a soft whisper, promising happier times, of keeping safe this spot, of running away to the clouds.
The children often viewed these transient bodies as their chariots to freedom, the trick was to discover the way to them. They so wanted to climb aboard a cloud, to be blown away from here, far, far away to the land the girl had read of, and had recounted to the boy.
It was a land of plenty. Plenty food, plenty drink, and oh! Plenty of cuddles and soft words. A world where small children were picked up by benevolent adults , whose only desire was to see children laugh and smile.
That this place existed was never in doubt, the children held fast to the knowledge that this world would one day open its hidden door to them, beckon them come join the other happy ones. They had only to discover that door.
The minutes stretched out, as the children, entwined, closed their eyes. The sun became their blanket. With a magical smoothness, they were sucked into the clouds, there to be carried along through the blue world. Although terribly high, the boy and girl were cushioned from harm, the fluffy clouds soft and cosy. The clouds sailed majesticaly along, floating with their passengers, travelling lazily towards the other place.
Nothing stirred, as the two slept, happy in their shared dream. Until the whirr of byciles and the gruff shouts of men awoke them, dragging the children swiftly yet silently back to the grassy bed, flatter now.
As they opened their eyes, the boy and girl saw they were back on the ground once more. With sighs, the pair slowly gathered their thoughts. The sun had slipped behind the factory roof, the shadows had stretched down from the wooden fence, touching the walls of the home. It was time to leave, time for hurrying back to their respective homes, and all that that entailed.
Helping each other out of bed, they cast disgruntled looks at the silly grass walls of their pretend house. The clouds were just clouds, and they had slept in the sunshine, a waste of sleep. Dreams that were needed for later had been squandered on a sunny afternoon .
Anxious to erase all trace of their folly, the children set about destroying this house. With yells of self mockery, they kicked at the walls. They tossed the bed into the air, watching with grim glee the mattress being taken up by the breeze, scattered back onto the field where it had grown. In a frenzy of thwarted hope, they razed to the ground the walls so carefully constructed.
Until, flushed and spent, there was little to show of the house that had been their home. Just a field, mown grass kicked and spread about, with the two small children standing together, grass-stained and dirty ,silent now.
Returning home at this time of the day was not safe via the grounds of the Big House. The owner would shortly be home from work, and he held the neighbourhood children in poor regard. He was not above reporting trespassers to parents, who, shamed, would firmly remind their offspring of the rule ‘Thou shalt not trespass’. Good hidings collected thus were not soon forgotten; the shame of seeing the knowing look on the owners face did much to encourage the children to be canny with their trespassing.
With tea -time fast approaching, the children ran out of the field, through the small play park, racing up the hill to their parting-place.
Once there, the boy laid a casual arm across the thin shoulders of the girl, his own slight frame pressed momentarily once more against that of his best friend. She gave him a conspiritorail grin, then it was over, this special sharedness.
He ran off home, not looking back, as she hurried to her own house, and both children ,as their respective back doors were reached, hesitated a beat Time to rejoin the real world.
Because, every trip out was an adventure; fraught with danger from bandits, attack from natives, rival gangs of kids, or from adults seeking retribution.
This day, the two small children made their way to the wooden fence, undetected, buzzing with excitement, for they knew the grass cutter had been! There would be heaps, piles, mountains, of cut grass!
Giggling, they hauled themselves onto the fence, and , hanging there a moment, surveyed their patch. Ah! Bliss! There it was…long lines of cut grass, the smell of the newly mown delight hanging heavy in the hot air, teasing and tickling the noses of the children, as they clambered over, dropping heavily into their park, wide happy smiles on their dirty faces.
The boy pulled the hand of his friend, as she lay in the dust, examining a long smear of green that had slid from the fence onto her t shirt. She was looking surprised, the mark seeming so big, so GREEN. As he tugged at her, the little girl laughed, her pale freckled face losing its pinched look, and she allowed herself to be dragged toward the first lovely line of grass.
The boy and the girl paused, assessing their building material, and they exchanged excited, knowing smiles. With no words, for these two were soul-mates indeed, they set about their self-appointed task. The casual observer would have been hard pressed to decide just what it was that these two were so busy at. The children were scooping armfulls of cut grass, laying them into lines, wadding, piling, fashioning.
Only the squirrels,and the many birds that lazily fluttered from tree to tree, could see what was happening. The grass was rapidly forming a modern Roman ruin, the small walls and door spaces marking the rooms of the house, and as the walls were formed, the children began to chatter, their high voices , one broad scottish, the other distincly newcastle ,incongruos in the rural town set in the southern home counties.
They worked zealously, and ,as the dust and grass stuck to their sweaty faces, their smiles softened, their goal in sight.
Finally, labours at an end, the pair stood outside their lovely home. The boy held the hand of his wife, as she proudly waited for him to open the door to their sanctuary. He turned to her, tenderness in his brown eyes, as he gently steered her inside. The couple examined every part of the house, never having seen it before, exclaiming at the space, the layout of the rooms, the lack of any one else.. this was their new home, one in which they alone would live, safe from the others.
Hand in hand, the small couple lay down on their grassy bed, and joined in an embrace that, had anyone seen, would have been poignantly touching. They gazed dreamily through the glass ceiling at the fluffy clouds that sailed past.
Then began the game they called simply, The cloud game: one child would close their eyes, listening, as the other described a cloud, using all the skill of their 9 years, and stroking, lovingly, the hand of their partner. Then it was time for the listener to snap open their eyes..scan the sky, and identify the cloud - quickly, before the wind ripped it apart, before it drifted into the arms of another. Only correctly identified clouds scored.
And the prize was a wish, and the wish was always the same. The wish was never spoken out loud, for the children had no need, their eyes spoke the same language. They wished fervantly, and every dissapointment would be shoved aside with a mental frown of regret, but they always persisted in their dreams . Was wishing for a peaceful life too much? Was it greedy? But they perservered, with the gritty determination that only two small survivors could.
As the sun beat down, and the flies buzzed, the tranquil scene warmed the pale faces, teasing out more freckles, turning the skin of these two a blushing pink. The trees rustled their leaves in a soft whisper, promising happier times, of keeping safe this spot, of running away to the clouds.
The children often viewed these transient bodies as their chariots to freedom, the trick was to discover the way to them. They so wanted to climb aboard a cloud, to be blown away from here, far, far away to the land the girl had read of, and had recounted to the boy.
It was a land of plenty. Plenty food, plenty drink, and oh! Plenty of cuddles and soft words. A world where small children were picked up by benevolent adults , whose only desire was to see children laugh and smile.
That this place existed was never in doubt, the children held fast to the knowledge that this world would one day open its hidden door to them, beckon them come join the other happy ones. They had only to discover that door.
The minutes stretched out, as the children, entwined, closed their eyes. The sun became their blanket. With a magical smoothness, they were sucked into the clouds, there to be carried along through the blue world. Although terribly high, the boy and girl were cushioned from harm, the fluffy clouds soft and cosy. The clouds sailed majesticaly along, floating with their passengers, travelling lazily towards the other place.
Nothing stirred, as the two slept, happy in their shared dream. Until the whirr of byciles and the gruff shouts of men awoke them, dragging the children swiftly yet silently back to the grassy bed, flatter now.
As they opened their eyes, the boy and girl saw they were back on the ground once more. With sighs, the pair slowly gathered their thoughts. The sun had slipped behind the factory roof, the shadows had stretched down from the wooden fence, touching the walls of the home. It was time to leave, time for hurrying back to their respective homes, and all that that entailed.
Helping each other out of bed, they cast disgruntled looks at the silly grass walls of their pretend house. The clouds were just clouds, and they had slept in the sunshine, a waste of sleep. Dreams that were needed for later had been squandered on a sunny afternoon .
Anxious to erase all trace of their folly, the children set about destroying this house. With yells of self mockery, they kicked at the walls. They tossed the bed into the air, watching with grim glee the mattress being taken up by the breeze, scattered back onto the field where it had grown. In a frenzy of thwarted hope, they razed to the ground the walls so carefully constructed.
Until, flushed and spent, there was little to show of the house that had been their home. Just a field, mown grass kicked and spread about, with the two small children standing together, grass-stained and dirty ,silent now.
Returning home at this time of the day was not safe via the grounds of the Big House. The owner would shortly be home from work, and he held the neighbourhood children in poor regard. He was not above reporting trespassers to parents, who, shamed, would firmly remind their offspring of the rule ‘Thou shalt not trespass’. Good hidings collected thus were not soon forgotten; the shame of seeing the knowing look on the owners face did much to encourage the children to be canny with their trespassing.
With tea -time fast approaching, the children ran out of the field, through the small play park, racing up the hill to their parting-place.
Once there, the boy laid a casual arm across the thin shoulders of the girl, his own slight frame pressed momentarily once more against that of his best friend. She gave him a conspiritorail grin, then it was over, this special sharedness.
He ran off home, not looking back, as she hurried to her own house, and both children ,as their respective back doors were reached, hesitated a beat Time to rejoin the real world.