Boys’ toys and vintage memories

I was so impressed on holiday when my seven-year-old niece was given a kit of interlocking pieces and managed to keep all the bits together – apart from two segments that were duly searched for and located.

Lego bricks: Still popular after 79 years

Having produced two unruly boys, our toy boxes are a mish-mash of broken pieces, bashed-up trains and planes, crashed cars, severed Lego heads and stray batteries.

I do go through their vast toy collection from time to time and try to sift out the debris, but it’s a losing battle – the pieces seem to breed and I’m forever finding broken axles and airplane parts scattered around the house.

I can’t remember the last time we did a puzzle that had all the pieces. If a toy does happen to be in good condition, it’s probably because it’s ‘too boring’ to play with.

Then there’s the ‘creative’ way they use objects that aren’t toys at all: I’d already mentioned how, on a previous visit to England, oldest son rolled the living room pouffe everywhere pretending it was a boulder. On another visit, he hung mum’s entire silk scarf collection over the stairs, fashionably arranged as make-believe snakes.

Today, he found a novel use for a garden tent and raced around the garden with it on his head in a Dalek-like manner.

An antique when I was little, this rocking horse must be 100 years old!

All this brings me to something I do enjoy while staying at my parents’. My mum keeps everything, and while I may get frustrated when the drawers are full to the brim, I just love it when she pulls out my old toys.

There’s the antique rocking horse, my old china tea-set, wooden recorder, the Jack-in-the-box (which scared the living daylights out of BB when he was little!), my brother’s wooden train that you pull along by string, original Mr Men books, and my dolls’ house with electric lights (now used by my boys as parking space for the lead-paint-covered veteran matchbox cars that were actually ‘Made in England’).

The model railway in the garage: Dad

But the thing train-mad BB loves most at our British abode is my Dad’s model train set, which dates back to the 60s. It now takes up the whole garage and BB can disappear in there for hours. And when he’s had enough in the garage, he comes outside to be the not-so-fat controller of the steam train running on Dad’s garden railway.

I was sure that somewhere in the attic there would be a Girl’s World circa 1982 – the styling head that gave me hours of make-over fun (and one of the most inspiring toys a girl could own back then!) – but I just found out she’s no more because I chopped all her hair off when I was nine. And there was me thinking that little girls always play nicely!

Operating the garden railway

Soaking up the greenery in Royal Windsor

Today was a British bank holiday Sunday, complete with heavy rain showers and crowds of people off work. Just how I remember such weekends.

We found ourselves at Windsor Great Park, the Queen’s back garden. DH, though not with us, was very much in my thoughts because he’s always telling me that Windsor, the picturesque setting of the royal family’s Windsor Castle, is practically joined to nearby Slough, a sprawling town he remembers fondly from childhood.

The reality is Slough is ‘da hood’ that Ali G pokes fun of and the suburban location of the comedy series The Office. But since DH is always trying to find excuses for us to visit Slough, I usually nod in agreement.

But back to Windsor, this afternoon we found a gem amid the beauty of the royal park. The Savill Garden is well worth a visit, even if, like me, your knowledge of garden plants stops at daffodils and daisies.

The boys ran through the hidden, interlocking gardens with wild abandon while I enjoyed a greenery fix. We followed the sculpture trail and couldn’t quite believe the price tag on this stainless steel eagle: £16,670 (that’s US$27,230)!

Some elderly folk, who were coo-ing over a baby girl, only looked mildly aghast when oldest son screeched through the otherwise quiet glasshouse in express train mode, and my green-fingered mother managed to keep her scissors in her bag: she famously took a cutting from a plant while attending a garden party at Buckingham Palace with my father and actually managed to grow it in our garden!

So nice is the Royal Borough of Windsor it made me want to move there. But, alas, we’d never be able to afford it.

Oh well, there’s always Slough. It’s more or less merged with Windsor, you know.

I even stopped to smell the roses!