NEW GAMES FOR OLD

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 76, Issue 303, 23 December 1933, Page 2 (Supplement)

NEW GAMES FOR OLD

KILLING TIME BETWEEN MEALS. (By K. R. G. Browne). For the conscientious householder who believes that blood is thicker than water, this is a period of considerable anxiety. For Christmas is upon'us; and Christmas is the season of family reunions, and all that that implies. Broadly speaking, a family reunion is a gathing of ill-assorted persons who have nothing in common except a hearty appetite and a heartier thirst; a gathering ’that is liable to disunite on the slightest provocation when once it. has risen from the groaning board. In other words, the conscientious householder who,. through kindness of heart, or weakness of intellect, proposes to feed and water a mixed gaggle of near and far relations on Christmas and/or Boxing Day, would be well advised to provide some method of killing time between meals. It is true that on Christmas and/or Boxing Day there is very little time between meals; but the average family reunion can easily develop into a family riot in almost no time at all. In every family there arc at least two members who are only on eating terms, so to speak; take away I heir platters, and in the wink of an eye they will be rolling on the carpet in a death-grapple. Witli a view to averting such contretemps, the conscientious householder is at pains to arrange some form of diversion tor his guests. By fair means or ioul Uncle Egbert must be kept from discussing politics with Uncle Hugo, and Aunt Ethel given no chance to remark and brood upon Aunt Mabel’s new gold locket. By hook or crook harmony must be preserved; and this can best be done through the medium of organised games—a form of amusement for which there is otherwise no justification. Those members of the party who have passed their sixty-fifth birthday can be readily disposed of. If adequately plied with food, they can be transferred straight from the table to tho fireside, where they will remain, breathing heavily and in a stale of coma indistinguishable from death, until the glad summons of the gong brings them leaping to the board again. For the younger and more agile guests, however, some kind of healthy entertainment is essential. In households where money is no object (the latest figures issued by the Board of Inland Revenue show that there are approximately six of these in England at the moment), this can take the form of a refined cabaret show, a display of acrobatics by a squadron of the R.A.F., or an hour’s glee-singing by the Liberal party. But tho host of limited means must work on a more modest scale; and it is for the benefit of such that I append, entirely without charge, the following suggestions. The old-fashioned games that sent our grandparents into hysterics— postman’s knock, hunt-the-gumboot, and the rest—are somewhat out of favour with the modern generation. Excitement! Excitement! That is the cry; and tho most popular parlour games today aro those which involve, not necessarily any actual loss of life, but a modicum of danger to all. Of this type an excellent example is tho old Spanish game of Scbastianago, or chase-thc-swine. For this the only properties needed are a small live boar —obtainable on deferred terms from any reputable breeder—a gallon of gear oil and a largo drawing room. The boar, having been thoroughly anointed with the oil, is released in the drawing room by tho person chosen to act as the “gigolo,” or umpire; and the player who, succeeds in capturing the quarry at tie cost of not more than two flesh wounds is adjudged the winner. If no boar is obtainable, an uncle of the irascible or retired military type can be equipped with false tusks and pressed into service as a deputy. This, of course, detracts slightly from the realism of the game, although the difference between wild boars and retired military uncles is not so great as is commonly supposed. To those who prefer something of a loss destructive but equally hazardous nature, tho game known as you-never-can-tell, or parlour awshery (invented by the well-known Swiss opera-artist) can confidently be recommended. All that is needed here is a supply of arrows, a long bow, an apple (preferably a Ribston Pippin) and somebody with a fairly flat head. The last-named takes up his or her position at one end of the drawing room with the poised upon his or her occiput; the other guests withdraw to a distance of twenty yards and endeavour, by drawing the long bow, to dislodge tho succulent fruit, the first to do so being awarded tho bag of nuts. It is advisable to select for this purpose the occiput of some poor relation or somebody whose abrupt demise will occasion no panic on the Stock Exchange or sensation in society. All doctors aro agreed that a little exercise after a heavy meal is beneficial to the health; and for this reason the old Hungarian folk-game called psezek or pursue-me-girls is calculated to appeal especially to the young and vigorous. This is merely an indoor steeplechase, beginning in the box-room and finishing i n the basement, with (if time permits) a detour by way of the nearest fully-licensed house. A few artificial hazards, such as a full hipbath at the dark end of the hall, or a length of stout cord stretched across the head of the stairs, add interest to the event, while a non-playing member of the. party may with advantage be stationed at some crucial point on the course with an oaken cudgel and instructions to make it more difficult. There is, of course, one simple, inexpensive and charmingly old-fashioned game, played with a twig of mistletoe ami a member of the opposite sex. which has retained its popularity among the young ever since the Druids—those gay old dogs!-—first realised the commercial possibilities of mistletoe. This game is not without, its perils for the unwary, as it is liable to (‘ml in a shower of confetti if played in the wrong spirit; but it has a. surprisingly largo number of devotees among the more serious thinkers of to-day. Between you and me and the President of .Madagascar, I am inclined to approve of it myself. That shows you. APPROVED Mary was the pet of her aunt. When aunty bought herself any little luxury, there was a small on ( . like it for Mary. Once it was an umbrella; on another occasion a little armchair. At last aunty got a sweetheart, a young man distinctly on the small side. They called on Christmas Day. Alary eyed the visitor keenly for a moment. Then she said: “I like him, aunty; but where’s yours?