Or a treehouse, or other special place to hide out and play? Who did you let in there?
I was reading a short piece on Andrew Sullivan's blog which linked to this excerpt of an article.
My brother and I had a great one, built in amongst a maze of tunnels we clipped out with my dad's hedge clippers — also secretly borrowed — in the middle of a huge field of six foot high gorse. You had to know where the secret entrance was... my oldest sister was not allowed to know about it.
And then, one day my brother told one of his classmates and within a couple of days, it was overrun by some kids from the neighbourhood, who pulled my curtain door down.
Fort two was a shed-thing down beyond the bottom of the garden in a vacant section. The roof leaked and it was cold. Some comics we had in there got all soaked through.... we lost interest in it pretty quickly.
I was reading a short piece on Andrew Sullivan's blog which linked to this excerpt of an article.
I am, unabashedly, pro-fort. It is a childish impulse, I suppose, the building of forts. One generally constructs them out of pillows and extra sheets in the first go-round. Then you graduate to the out-of-doors. You go into the trees in an act of reverse-evolution, harkening back to distant ancestors with prehensile tails. But you’re also playing at building things, reenacting basic civilizational urges embedded in the species mind. As soon as you’ve built one fort, you try to make the next one even better, bigger, more innovative. I had a friend in the Hollywood Hills, where I grew up, who built a fort with indoor plumbing, electricity, mechanical devices. But it still felt different being in the fort than being in the house. The fort was an experiment and the house was just a house.
My brother and I had a great one, built in amongst a maze of tunnels we clipped out with my dad's hedge clippers — also secretly borrowed — in the middle of a huge field of six foot high gorse. You had to know where the secret entrance was... my oldest sister was not allowed to know about it.
And then, one day my brother told one of his classmates and within a couple of days, it was overrun by some kids from the neighbourhood, who pulled my curtain door down.
Fort two was a shed-thing down beyond the bottom of the garden in a vacant section. The roof leaked and it was cold. Some comics we had in there got all soaked through.... we lost interest in it pretty quickly.