A tent pitched upon the back lawn could become an entire world.
To grown-ups it was merely a temporary shelter, usually assembled with considerable difficulty and held upright by ropes that threatened to trip anyone crossing the garden.
To children it was a private kingdom.
Inside its canvas walls they could invent rules, appoint leaders and conduct their affairs with a seriousness that would have impressed any local council.
One recollection describes a group of ten-year-olds who established a school inside a garden tent. They organised quizzes, read books aloud and invented punishments for those who gave incorrect answers.
On one occasion, a girl named Judy answered several questions incorrectly and was subjected to a round of smacked bottoms by her companions.
The children apparently treated the episode as part of their game, although it is difficult to know how each participant truly felt.
Another childhood school operated under rather different regulations. Children who read badly were sentenced to detention. Their punishment was to remain inside the tent while their companions went indoors for tea.
One suspects that missing tea was regarded as a considerably more serious matter than most of the imaginary classroom offences.
Tree houses provided equally suitable surroundings.
High among the branches, away from the immediate supervision of parents, children could construct a classroom complete with desks made from wooden boxes and an imaginary headmaster’s office.
The oldest child frequently assumed authority, while younger companions were expected to obey.
Sometimes this authority was exercised through harmless commands. At other times, according to the recollections, the games involved actual smacking or the use of sticks as makeshift canes.
One boy remembered playing schools in the garden of a headmaster’s family. His companion, the headmaster’s son, apparently imitated the disciplinary practices associated with his father’s profession.
Another remembered seeing a group of girls playing schools during break time. They stood in a line while the child acting as teacher went from one to another, pretending to administer the same hand punishments they had witnessed in their own classroom.
Such scenes illustrate how closely children’s games could follow everyday life.
They copied not merely the appearance of a school but its hierarchy, its rules, its punishments and even the language employed by teachers.
Yet the freedom of the garden could also allow games to become excessive. Older children sometimes exercised more power than their younger companions could comfortably resist.
The nostalgic picture of children playing happily beneath an apple tree therefore deserves a little qualification.
Childhood imagination could be delightful, but it did not automatically guarantee kindness or fairness.
