Sticktistics

At an early age I was always the first, on a family walk or trip, to find a stick or a large branch to drag around for the duration.

More time was spent in the car parking area, surrounding brush and rough actually seeking out said bits of timber than on any well worn footpath or track. The most sought after was a piece of tree which could be used as a walking stick. This had to be reasonably straight and ideally with a 'V' shape at the convergence of former shoots to act as a thumb rest.

The actual coming together of these two attributes was very rare. In most cases the stick was either too long or back-achingly short if possessing the elusive thumb rest or very crooked, almost banana profile, even if the exact comfortable length, but lacking any characteristic knotch. There was always a compromise in the choice of that first stick and instead of enjoying the walk and scenery and taking care to avoid the hazards of the great outdoors the rest of the time was spent being intent on finding an obviously better and upgraded version.

There was always the promise of a protruding branch or bough in the bracken or undergrowth being the ideal walking companion. The initial attempt to drag it out gave a clue as to what was lurking in the natural cover. If it was immoveable, under intense physical effort, it was a tree. If it resisted at first and then disintegrated easily it was usually well worth investigating for fungus, insects and general organic decay. Those tall ,dry and brittle stems were always good for stuffing with small twigs and grass, setting alight and daring others to take a drag before the inevitable earwigs emerged in panic to escape the dense smoke.

There was an unwritten rule that beautifully suitable branches could not be cut off the tree in respect for nature and conservation but if they happened to look fatally diseased , previously tampered with by small boys with a machete or showing clear signs of having been damaged by beavers then it was ok.

That was of course in the days when all under 12's carried a pocket knife but with no intent other than to whittle something very small out of something big or to in fact come across a rural crisis which demanded that a stone be removed from the hoof of a horse.

Some hours into a ramble it will have been possible to get equipped with a suitable stick. The remaining time and distance was spent, of course, testing the stick to destruction. Best activities were wacking the heads off dandelions or if not in season, daisies and any nice looking flora. A very effective imitation trail of a snake could be created by dragging the stick along behind in a sluggish, malevolent manner. The stick could be used as a golf club with fir cones readily available as ammunition. If in a larger group armed with similar there could be an expansive drama enacted along the lines of 'The Flashing Blade' complete with very dodgy anglo- french accents and out of sync mouth movements.

Sometimes, just hitting tree trunks violently and persistently would suffice and serve the purpose of letting the supervising adults know that you had not wanted to leave the house and TV in the first place for some stupid walk in the countryside.

If, after all of this, the stick survived then the main challenge was to get it into the family car for the homeward journey. My parents' Morris Minor had to have the boot open and the back seat down in order to feed in the stick to rest on top of the handbrake between the driver and front seat. The later succession of VW estate cars provided more overall space and access but if the back seat was fully occupied then the stick had to be passed through at ear height between back seat and front seat passengers.This caused a lot of aggravation and arguments amongst my siblings but I put it down to simple jealously for not having a good stick.

I was usually asleep or had lost interest in the stick by the time we arrived back at the family home. I cannot ever remember unloading the wood from the car so it must have been done by my ever patient and attentive parents.

Over the years there accumulated quite a woodpile of discarded branches and boughs in the back of the garage or in the garden.