Ting Tang Tommy. Simon Godwin
Читать онлайн книгу.
to spring’ and was used originally to describe the movement of animals as well as people.
Ghem morphed as it was filtered through different European languages. In Old French it became jambe and in Italian it became gamba. Gradually, words developed that referred to people having fun in groups, such as jamboree and camp and campus. In German the word became gaman, in Hellenic it became kampe and in Old Norse it became gems, which meant ‘to come together and congregate as whales do’.
There is something ancient here conveying a sense of people coming together to generate a tribal happiness. This book reflects these visceral origins of playing by including games that are fast, furious and physical. The outdoor games in Chapter 3 revel in ancient ideas of the hunter and the hunted and the power and thrill of running in the landscape. Playing them today gives you a feeling of being part of a tradition that stretches back thousands of years. In Chapter 6 I describe games that have traditionally been played at particular times of the year. These games also stretch back centuries and combine fun with traces of lost rituals.
Many of the games in this book, however, were first written and collected into anthologies by the Victorians. Although many of these had been played for centuries, the Victorians were the first to make an industry out of them. They developed and invented a huge quantity of new games. During the nineteenth century a vast number of games books were published and games became a national obsession.
Why Was This?
Throughout the nineteenth century in Great Britain there was a mass migration to cities. Between 1841 and 1891 the population of London increased from two million to nearly four and a half million. In Scotland there was a comparable surge in Glasgow. The rise in industry and the increase in urban growth led to the formation of a new middle class. These people had left the old, established practices of rural areas to live and work in the city. The days of fairs, bullock running, pigeon flying, cock fighting and village wakes were over. These new communities needed new ways of having fun. They needed games.
And during the same century the new middle class fought for their rights. They achieved shorter working hours, longer holidays and better pay. These innovations, combined with better transport and communication links, freed up time for people to have fun. In the northern cities men joined brass bands; choral singing caught on in the Welsh valleys and pantomimes and music halls started to grip the public imagination. Whist drives, reading groups, picnics, circuses, billiard halls and working men’s clubs gained popularity as a new kind of organized fun took hold.
As well as going out and taking part in group activities, people wanted to make their own fun at home. And this appetite was fed by a radical change that was happening inside people’s homes: the birth of gas lighting. In our bright, modern homes it’s hard for us to imagine what life would have been like by candlelight. If you try counting the lights in the room where you are reading this, I estimate that you will find at least four or five, not including the ambient light that pours in through and around your curtains. At the beginning of the nineteenth century homes were still lit by candles, which were both expensive and of limited strength. Samuel Pepys had to give up writing his diary at only thirty-six because he was worried about going blind—‘and so to bed, being weary, sleepy, and my eyes begin to fail me, looking so long by candlelight upon white paper’—he wrote in 1663. In the centuries of darkness games were things to be played outdoors while inside people told stories, sang songs and played instruments. Pleasure came from the things you imagined rather than saw.
The social historian Dorothy Flanders gives a detailed account of the development of domestic gas lighting in her book The Victorian House. She explains how Friedrich Albert Winsor became one of the first popular exponents of gas lighting in the home, through a series of public lectures and brochures. In 1814 Winsor founded a company with a single gasometer. By 1852 there were forty-seven gasometers in Britain and a network of gas piping, stretching over two hundred miles. The craze for gas lighting spread fast. By 1816 gas was common in London and by 1823 fifty-three cities had gas companies. By the middle of the century, it had become a presence in most small towns and even in some villages. The contemporary journalist G. A. Sala provides a vivid insight into the difference it made to everyday life:
In broad long streets where the vista of lamps stretches far away into almost endless perspective; in courts and alleys, dark by day but lighted up by this incorruptible tell-tale; on the bridges; in the deserted parks; on wharfs and quays; in dreary suburban roads; in the halls of public buildings; in the windows of late-hour-keeping houses and offices, there is my gas—bright, silent, secret. Gas to teach me; gas to counsel me; gas to guide my footsteps.
As well as illuminating streets, gas changed how rooms were lit. The Argand Lamp became a popular innovation in middle-class homes. In stark contrast to the uneven light of candles, the Argand Lamp burned gas at a higher temperature, which created a purer flame. This new, brighter flame was also contained for the first time in a glass cylinder, which saved it from draughts and allowed the flame to be raised or lowered, rather like the modern dimmer switch. Brightness could now be controlled and modulated at will. It was also possible for gas to be run through pipes and tubes to special fittings in the ceilings and walls, even to tables. Wall sockets had flexible attachment points so that lights could be directed towards particular people or objects. The arrival of gas lighting meant that everyone—not just the rich—could now play games long into the night.
And so, for the Victorians, the stage was set for a games revolution to take hold. Is it time for us to discover once again the easy pleasure and communal happiness that only games can offer?
The Original and Best Games for a Party
I want to show you how games can be played anywhere. But parties are the place where most of us get our first taste, so let’s start there. When I say party I am thinking of a group of adults or a family gathering with a good spread of ages. There have been lots of books on children’s party games so that’s not my remit here. I want to share forgotten but universal games that can be played by all.
At a party, timing is important. You have to wait for a lull. You have to wait until the group wants something new. And not everyone may want to play. This is fine. You are looking for a majority. If you can get most people onboard, a game is possible. Never force people to play. They can either just watch or you can give them special roles—like being the referee, timer or scorer. Everyone likes to feel included.
Arriving
Games that welcome people are fun. You might have a large jar of sweets near the door and get people to write down what they think is the correct number on a sheet of paper nearby. It’s nice to have something to announce later in the evening and even nicer for the person who gets to walk away with the jar of sweets. Another good icebreaker is to ask everyone to bring a photograph of themselves as babies. As people are helping themselves to a glass of wine, you can fix each photograph to a piece of cardboard with a number under each one. On pieces of paper against the numbers, people can write down who they think is who. It’s a great moment at midnight, or towards the end of the night, to bring in the photo board and to ask each grown-up baby to step forward one by one. You can award a prize to the winner but the fun comes from seeing how the babies in the photographs express the intangible essence of the grown-ups they become, something which never quite leaves them.
Mister Hit
