Onesy Twosey Threesy
Cynthia
We used to swim in the Avon and we'd come out covered in green weeds like giant cobwebs!
Life after school was fields, sports or just running around, sliding down muddy banks on trays or pieces of lino or tadpoling in the craters- very free and nature orientated. We used to have bikes, and climb woodland trees and swing on ropes. We played marbles in the gutters – the streets were clean then and there weren’t many cars. We went on holiday to Weston – day visits, not holidays like you have now. There wasn’t a lot of packaging then – and there wasn’t any fast food either. TV came to our house at about the age of 11 and then we stopped talking in the evenings and sat in silence until the intervals when it was a cup of tea before it began again. Radio took a back seat and the English way of life began to change.
We joined guides and youth clubs and dances. We still used to get our old bikes out and just a few minutes up the road we were in deep country and would ride off to the copse on a farm at Pensford and cook our lunch of bacon and eggs and smoky tea using our guiders experience to light and put out the camp fire.
Transcript
I grew up in Brislington on what was then the edge of town opposite a field and woods and near the river Avon. School was structured, but we left 4 o’clock and then went out to play. Life after school was fields, sports and just running around, in the woods and in the fields that were opposite.
We played street games – the streets were clean then and there weren’t any cars along our road. On rainy days we stayed in and listened to serials on the radio and my mother taught me embroidery and knitting. Otherwise, once we were out the structured control and discipline of our parents and teachers, we just ran wild in the local fields and woods, and even swam in the river Avon.
One of the gang always managed to thump me on ,the back and, as he was quite burly, I never conceived of hitting him back.
One day I run home in tears after another thump and complained to my dad who was in the kitchen. He just gave a lop-sided grin and said “Give ‘im the onesy, twosy, threesy.” This is possibly a reference to when he was in the Grenadeers during the War and had a chance to box with the famous Jack Dempsey.
“What is the onesy, twosy, threesy dad?” I asked, not having a clue, of anything really, being only about seven or eight years old. He thought for a moment, and quickly realised he couldn’t give the same advice to a girl that he would give to a boy, and just said “Errr, put a hand on each shoulder and knee him.” I looked at him a bit blank and he said “…Knee him in the stomach.”
With that, I raced back to join the group and, with total confidence in what my dad had said, I went up to the lad, hand on each shoulder, and kneed his tummy, one, two, three times. He buckled and, taken completely by surprise, began to cry, and ran home to the jeers of the other kids. It was then that I realised my own power and, from then on, began to fight back on different levels.
I now live on the border of the inner city and have all the facilities of modern city living, and have joined a walking group which is as near as I can get to those days of freedom.
I do wonder though, what I would do if I was attacked now that I’m a pensioner. Would I still use the onesy twosy threesy and tak someone by surprise? I just don’t have the “victim mentality” having grown up with boys, but have to realise I’m getting older and need to keep my wits about me.
