I came across this photograph of the maypole at a village garden fete in our village - circa 1950. Two of the farmer's sisters are on it
and when I asked him why he wasn't there he suggested that he had thought it far too 'cissy' to get involved. (He hasn't changed then).
Of course it was almost forty years before I arrived in these parts but I am sure that similar photographs exist of similar exploits in my Lincolnshire village - because that is what we did in those days.
And they were largely carefree days providing we came from loving, 'normal' families - how lucky we were. The war was over and things were beginning to get back to how they should be. And although few of our families had a lot of money our mothers were usually good managers and could scrape together enough for a new dress for the maypole, or the Sunday school anniversary or similar. As kids, I don't think we ever questioned where the money came from.
No, I don't envy today's children with all their computers, mobiles, i-pads and the like. We were out in the fields in summer making our own enjoyment and in the winter we were near the fire (burning the fronts of our legs while the backs were freezing!) playing board games, or I spy, or reading, or learning our parts for the school or sunday school play. Or indeed, trying to memorise exactly how you got the maypole ribbons right (I never did master it).
Alright - call me old-fashioned if you like. But I suppose it is each to his own generation and mine has long passed.