Our games were fun, I mean lots of fun even if it was usually my sisters ideas. But the games I clearly remember were the rough ones, games of squeals and laughter, tears of pain, screams of attack.
They never lasted long only after ten minutes of bulldozing play, mum would come outside with a look of concern and attempt to stop the game. "Come inside now, the dishes aren't probably done,"
then we would call with our whiniest voice,
"Please ten more minutes."
But it was useless, mum would always come up with another excuse.
"You can always fold up the washing if you'd rather do that'"
"But mum it's not fair!"
"What's not fair?"
then we would shut our mouths and walk obediently inside.