When not in the mood for running around at school, we would dig for clay smoking pipes in the corner of the playground. Why this little patch of dirt contained clay pipes is something that I never found out, but we spent hours digging for them. They were these tiny little delicate things, which I’m sure must have had some value to a museum somewhere, or even a collector. Our clumsy hands would always break them as they came free from the dirt they were encased in - rendering them completely useless and probably worthless. As with all playgrounds of that era; the fun came with a large element of risk. Still in the days of seesaws that would chop off the tiny fingers of the unwary, and hard concrete floors under climbing frames, it saw its fair share of broken arms and wrists. There was also a giant slide in the middle of the playground that we kids used, that had sides made from a rough cut of wood. We constantly had splinters of wood stuck in our legs and on many occasions our behinds.