A Rope, Some Pals and ‘Jelly on a Plate’ (Life’s a Journey Series: Week 13)

This post is part of a weekly series of ‘link-up’ Posts which reflect on life’s journey, old memories and family stories (see below for more info).

Last week, my 12 year old son picked up a skipping rope for what became immediately obvious as the very first time. As he lollopped his elephantine self across the floor, one painful skip at a time, the contrast between our two generations’ childhood playground experiences was heavily emphasised….

As a young girl, for me, playtime consisted of two key activities.

family stories

That's me in the middle (yeah, right...)

1. Handstands against the school brick wall (usually wearing a ‘gypsy’ skirt which had to be skilfully tucked into one’s knickers before launch)

2. Skipping.

The latter clearly played such a defining role in my playground experience that I can still, to this very day, recite some of the rhymes which we used to skip to.

There was, incidentally, never any actual ‘rope’. Our favoured (parental thrift?) material for group skipping was a length of plastic coated washing line. It had longevity as well as a thigh-searing whip-slashing effect if you weren’t fast enough when it was your turn to jump in on your birthday month was called!At the age of 9 I was something of a champion Double Dutcher, and I could easily ‘pick her up, pick her up’ (the baby on the floor, that is). These qualities sadly have not been inherited by my male offspring, who for some reason have never succumbed to the skipping habit.

These are the ones I best recall… how about you?

Spanish Lady

Not Last Night but the night before.
Twenty-four robbers came knocking at my door,
I went out to let them in
And this is what they said to me–
‘Spanish lady turn around,
Spanish lady touch the ground,
Spanish lady do the high kicks,
Spanish lady do the splits!’
(the child should do each of the commands while skipping – the “splits” is more like making a V)

Jelly on a Plate

Jelly on a plate, jelly on a plate

Wibble wobble, wibble wobble

Jelly on a plate.

Baby on the floor, baby on the floor

Pick her up, pick her up

Baby on the floor.

Sausage in the pan, sausage in the pan

Sizzle sizzle, sizzle sizzle,

Sausage in the pan….

 

Together

All in together girls,

Never mind the weather, girls

When you hear your birthday, please jump in!

January, february…….etc.

Now, over to you to share your playground memories!

Post an entry to your own Blog  and use the Linky tool (link below) to enter your memories into the fray. If you like, just leave a comment and join in that way, but do join in.

If you feel sexy, grab the code too (just follow the link) and post it into your Blog entry – that way, everyone can pay it forward as they say – it’s good to share.

Please visit the other blogs on the list and leave a comment or two – it makes everyone’s day!

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Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…


More about the Life’s a Journey weekly memories series.

Other posts in this series:-

Week 1 – My earliest baby photo

Week 2 – Old School Portrait

Week 3 – Earliest Writings

Week 4 – Bestest Friends

Week 5 – Teenage Crushes

Week 6 – First Movie Memories

Week 7 – The Song You Snogged Your Hand To

Week 8 – Homage to Grandparents

Week 9 – Favourite Childhood Books

Week 10 – Tying the Knot (again)

Week 11 – Blue: Girl Guide Uniform Shambles

Week 12 – Cuddly Companions

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24 responses to “A Rope, Some Pals and ‘Jelly on a Plate’ (Life’s a Journey Series: Week 13)

  1. Pingback: …Way back when…! « blurbinsuburbia·

  2. Oh you remember the rhymes! I agree, it was skipping, handstands or elastics, which I can’t for the life of me remember how to do, but it involved a large loop of knicker elastic around two persons ankles and you had to step in and out depending on the pattern you made, a bit like cats cradle – oh those were the days!

  3. As the chubby girl in the class I was not front of the line to do handstands or skipping and oh how envious I was of those girls that were.
    I was more a cats craddle type of gal ;)

    • God, I loved cat’s cradle!! I was always a bit bigger than my pals too. Puppy fat, my mum called it… I felt horrid (could never join in with all the backbends!)

  4. My daughter and her friends like cat’s cradle, and weirdly, also knitting. I’ve entered a link to a Kiwi playground rhyme that we learnt on our travels last year.

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