“Hey, soft lad”

Grand-parental duties take us to soft play centres these days. The play equipment for the very young is wrapped up in padding. Even outdoor playgrounds designed for those a few years older are thoughtfully designed with safety in mind.

It’s a long way from the swing parks of our youth, in unforgiving steel, engraved at regular intervals with the name “Wicksteed,” to crack your shins on. High steps up the slide enticing us skywards, accompanied by concerned reminders from ground level not to look down. The Kettering, Northamptonshire, company have been making playground hardware since 1918.

Within a few years we were daring each other to go “up to the bar,” on what a little bit of research tells me is officially known as a plank swing. This involved standing at opposite ends and rocking it upwards until it cracked into the horizontal bars from which the plank was hung. In time, we had done that so frequently that the foundations of the metal framework had loosened, rendering the equipment even more dangerous than it was before. If you fell off anything at all in those days it hurt. There were no rubber compound surrounds to soften the blow.

None of which made me “hard,” I have to admit. “All right, soft lad?” was a typically provocative scouse greeting from friends as was, “Hey, soft lad,” from those who weren’t being friendly at all.

As habitual trespassers, the railway environment was every bit as dangerous for us but far less threatening. Only like-minded lads went there. There was a permanent truce in operation. Though we got thrown out of a few sheds, only once - at Shrewsbury - were we seriously reprimanded. I think we tried to bunk it again the next day.

Soft Machine completely passed me by. Were they any good?