Friday, April 28, 2017


We spent many happy hours unattended by a responsible adult, water race, nearby creek,  climbing trees, getting to and from the school bus' two Kms distant and on strong NW afternoons going cross country leaving the bike at the "corner".
The day I was asked by a "Captain Peacock" in Millars department store " is you mother shopping here " after my exploring the wonder of an escalator.
Even after a neighbours son aged four went awol one afternoon and was not found until early next morning there seemed to be no tightening of the surveillance regime.

We were given  guidelines at the dawn of awareness, with limits were set in stone and we survived.

Now I understand that many ratepayer funded Libraries run "holiday programs" largely staffed by amateurs so why is there now an outcry because time passing has made them so enormously successful and  the cry goes up, "parents abandoning their children at Libraries to avoid day care",  if I couldn't read I might ask what the hell is "daycare".

Parks, pools, libraries, trees, walking, running,   fighting, impromptu games, kids being kids and discovering the world, anything to remove the digital add hoc needs for entertainment surely.
The again as a rather sporadic user of libraries it seems the greatest concentration there, is the ratepayer funded and supplied Computers


pdm said...

When I was a kid at Tikokino the Library only opened from about 7pm to 9pm Fridays (may not have been every Friday) and was so small only 3 or 4 adults could fit in it at a time so kids were kicked out to play on the road - sometimes encroaching onto SH 50 in our enthusiasm.

Anonymous said...

Our local library is now a day care center for loud backpackers. They sprawl over the couches and chairs, their gear all over the deck and occupying the seats next to them.
Books are just a backdrop. The main attraction is the free wifi for their swipe phones and the power plugs for recharging devices. Kids holiday programs would be a welcome change if it convinced them to read in comparative silence.