The Woods
Growing up in 1960s Wales, our newly built estate of Blaenymaes had been plonked down over what was once rural farmland. Just down the road stretched a massive woodland, our primary playground. It was much bigger than the Bank at Wern Fawr Road, and to us kids, it felt like an entire world of its own. A world where we made the rules.
The Old Tree and Fern Wars
At the edge of the woods stood a landmark we simply called the Old Tree. It was our main meeting point, a place to plan battles and build forts. Fern fights were a regular thing: we'd pull up great clumps of ferns and chase each other through the trees, wielding them like swords, spears, whips, and even machine guns if no good sticks were around. The ferns were wonderfully versatile and completely free.
Castles, Cowboys and Milk Crates
With ferns and the occasional stolen metal milk crate, we'd build castles, bunkers, and forts, depending on whether we were playing King Arthur's knights, cowboys and Indians, or World War II commandos. The architectural principles stayed the same regardless of the era, fern-covered crates, branches for a roof, and as much mud as you could pack in for stability. They never lasted more than a few days, but that was half the fun. Building was better than having.
Secret Dens and Dirty Secrets
Our dens weren't just forts, they were places of mystery and forbidden knowledge. We'd have whispered conversations about grown-up things like sex, though our understanding was more than a bit confused. As far as we knew, there were at least two ways to make a baby: the "dirty" method involving willies and minnies (yes, that's what we called them), and the "clean" method—kissing.
I firmly believed I was a product of the clean method, and I'd fight anyone who dared suggest otherwise.
The kissing theory probably came from some poor mother's attempt to dodge the dreaded "Where do babies come from?" question with a desperate "I kissed your dad" and no follow-up explanation. In the 1960s, those conversations simply didn't happen in most households. You learned about life in the woods, from older kids who knew only slightly more than you did.
Educational Resources: The Littlewoods Catalogue
Despite my innocence, I had a growing fascination with the female form, thanks entirely to the women's underwear section of my mam's Littlewoods Catalogue. I'd sneak it off the shelf and lock myself in the toilet for extended "reading" sessions. All strictly for educational purposes, of course.
In an age before the internet, before magazines were easy to come by, before even the most basic sex education at school, that catalogue was a treasured resource. My findings would occasionally be shared with trusted friends back at the Old Tree, though I suspect we were all working from the same limited curriculum.
Freedom
Looking back, what strikes me most isn't the dirt or the confusion or even the fern wars, it's the freedom. We'd disappear into those woods for entire days, come home covered in mud with ripped jumpers, and nobody batted an eye. The woods were ours. We were left to figure things out, about forts, about fighting, about life, on our own terms.
It was a different world. And I wouldn't change a moment of it.