Tuesday 27 May 2008

Nostalgia ain't what it used to be

I think that sociologists have denied us something important: the "golden age". If you remember times when things were better you are accused of indulging in golden age thinking; that it was never thus, or if it was, there was a significant downside that you are ignoring.

So if you reflect on a green and pleasant land, when there was no point talking about organic, because everything was, and when there was no rural crime to speak of, then you will be told that actually people lived in grinding poverty and you are better off now. Plus you will be made to feel unsophisticated and foolish (which perhaps one is).

I want to talk knives. Though I live in France, I like to follow events in the UK, and knife crime among youths seems to be a hot topic.

Well, here's something from my golden age. "When I was a boy" (hem) most of had knives. A dagger in a sheath was part of the Boy Scout uniform. We used to take knives to school. I know, because we played the following interesting game.

There was a Stander and a Thrower and of course spectators. Stander stood with his feet together and Thrower threw a knive into the ground to the left or right of his feet. If the knive was more than a hand-width from Stander's foot, Stander won. If the knife was less than a hand-width, Stander moved his foot to touch the knife, which was then removed and the procedure repeated. If Thrower managed his end of it well, Stander would eventually be so spread-eagled that he would topple over. At that point Thrower won.

I guess Health and Safety had not been invented yet, because we were allowed to get on with this game during playtime. I can remember one boy getting a knife in the foot, but it seemed a rarity.

One more thing. In my Golden Age when knife-carrying was commonplace we never threatened another boy with a knife or used it in anger. I feel this came from us. It would have been, somehow, utterly disgraceful.

Postscript: I am indebted to Brother Tobias for reminding me that the game is played reciprocally, where the two face each other and take turns throwing the knife.

8 comments:

Brother Tobias said...

We played that game. Only, if you managed to make the knife stick in exactly between your opponent's feet, you could put yours together again.

John said...

Hey brother - do you know I had completely forgotten that the participants took turns? Perhaps I am being equally forgetful about the rule you mention; or maybe we didn't play that variant.

Anyway, how exciting to come across another player! (They thought I was making it up you know).

Lane Mathias said...

You're so right. I resent being told that my perception is warped. All the boys carried penknives but I certainly can't remember any stabbings - not intentional anyway:-)

Funny, I read a scene in a book recently which describes exactly your knife throwing game. I think it was Straight Man by Russo but I can't be sure. My memory is not what it used to be:-)

John said...

Thanks Lane; I don't like the anti-golden age thing as you know, but sometimes feel old fashioned and alone; so nice to find like-minded thinkers.

Milla said...

Oh, I wrote a comment and it hasn't taken. How maddening. It was just to say that my husband wrote on the knife thing yesterday - http://rotwatch.blogspot.com/
lovely posting yours.

John said...

I had a look Milla. Good post.

Georgina said...

Yes - we played that game too when I was a lad in Kenya. I'd forgotten all about it until I read your blog. It was very popular and I do remember the odd boy getting a knife wound in the leg. The game had a name, but I can't remember it.

Yes - we all carried sheath knives as well. I remember I was given one for Christmas when I must have been about twelve years old.

We had Christmas lunch, which included an unaccustomed glass of wine for me. During the afternoon for some unknown reason I was sitting in a chair with a big piece of cardboard placed across my legs, which I was idly stabbing with my new knife. The wine must have had some effect, because next thing I had stabbed myself in the thigh. The blade puntured a small artery and blood jetted spectacularly and vertically into the air. I remember thinking this was very interesting, before yelling for my mother. I still have the scar.

However i've never stabbed anyone else !

BOB

John said...

Which is the strange thing, Bob. There we were, "tooled up", and no inclination to stab each other. I think we need a sociologist or two to explain how it's all gone so horribly wrong in this, the best of all times.