Milk finished, I put the bottle in the empties crate, wipe a hand across my mouth and push open the door to the school playground.
It’s cold. I pull my socks up trying not to touch the
grazes on my knees. I fell over kicking a tennis ball around the yard this
morning, before school started. Scuffed my shoes as well. I’ll get a telling
off for that.
All join on for cowboys,
they shout out loudly, five boys in a line, arms around shoulders, wandering
around the yard looking for more to join in.
But it’s not cowboys for me today.
To the side of the outdoor lavatories, there’s a game of
chips going on. One lad stands with his back to the wall and facing him, six
more are leaning over, hands on knees, one behind the other. I watch, mouth
wide open, as a rough-looking boy, sleeves rolled up, runs full pelt towards the
end of the line and leapfrogs as far as he can, landing heavily in the middle
of the row of backs. The whole line collapses. Shrieks of laughter. They pick
themselves up and the game restarts.
But it’s not chips for me today.
I’m after marbles.
On a flat bit of the yard, where the tarmac’s not bumpy,
the boy who calls himself the marble king has set up his arcade. Just a bit of
wood really with some supports to prop it up – about nine inches high with four
little holes cut into it.
I check the bag in my pocket, pull out a swirly green
marble and rub it on my jumper for good luck. Aim for the 1. The marble moves
smoothly through the hole that has an inky 1 written above it. A good start. I
get one marble back. Part of me wants to go straight for the 4. But that hole
is very small and you’ve got to be really on form to get a marble through it. I
try anyway. It hits the wood to one side of the tiny opening. The marble king
pockets my marble. I try again and again, losing each time. He laughs. His
friends laugh as well.
A final go, a swirly blue, a rub on the jumper and the
magic word under my breath. The marble rolls over the tarmac. I can feel it’s a
good aim. It’s going to be a winner. Then one of the king’s friends nudges the
arcade just a little with his foot. My marble hits the wood. He’s a lot bigger
than me. I can’t say anything.
After school the marble king comes up to me. I think he’s
going to have another laugh, but he hands over four brand new marbles, not a
single mark on any of them.
See you tomorrow, he
says, walking off up the road.
A richly descriptive piece which almost makes me want to buy a bag of marbles and join in. I don't know whether it's a childhood memory Dave or an imagined piece. Either way, I enjoyed reading it.
ReplyDeleteA heartening, nostalgic return to the playground. Just goes to show that young boys pulling tricks at marbles can still be very sportsman-like. Thank you, Dave!
ReplyDeletePlayground rituals from a long time ago with good imagery and a surprising ending. Enjoyed it.
ReplyDeleteI have no idea how many times I've played that game but I do know how marlies I lost in one day of extrvagance - twenty two . I told my dad. He said TWENTY TWO? No more pocket for you my boy. I never told him again. when he passed on my Mum found a brand new bag of them - haven't lost a single one. Mainly 'cos I've never used them! You hit the spot with this tale Dave. tears in eyes. right back to first year at high school. wonderful.
ReplyDeleteLove this, I used to play marbles too, made me very nostalgic, but we never had a marble arcade game or a marble king!:-)
ReplyDelete