That Girl from Derwent dwells on the value of religion this Christmas.
That Girl from Derwent has learned a few more things about prejudice since moving up North.
That Girl From Derwent reckons if you're going to be offensive, you should find a better reason.
That Girl from Derwent considers why it is that some words have wider implications than others.
It sounds trivial and silly, doesn't it? Nonetheless, the thing I miss most about being a child is the practically limitless feeling of a game of Lego.
Endless summer days when you had nothing to do but build castles, sail pirate ships and search for ancient Egyptian treasure - and all in time for tea - that, in my stress-filled university existance is the time I look back on with absolute nostalgia.
Call me (incredibly) sad, but these little guys were the friends my slightly outcast eight-year-old could rely on. These were the guys (there were a total of four girls in my Lego set - though they played many parts) that I knew the best. One day they would be battling the King's troops in the Spanish Main, then next they'd be leading battle charges against King Arthur in the name of the BatLord... life was never boring or dull. Although perhaps it is slightly telling that I usually had the rebels on my team... child psychology anyone? And then there were the building opportunities. Anyone who followed the instructions to the letter when building their Lego simply had no imagination, the DIY alternations were where it was at.
Yet, even I have to admit it wasn't all about the Lego. What I miss is the freedom. The total absence of anything better to do with my time. I could spend my days designing cities and making up stories, because I had no essays to write or bills to pay. I reckon, actually, that we don't grow out of playing with things like Lego. What happens, is that we simply run out of time to indulge in what we feel is a trivial action - or what society tells us is a child's toy. To this day, I can't play, even on a computer game, for all that long without being set upon by the feeling that I should be doing something else; the feeling that if it isn't productive, if it isn't work, I shouldn't be doing it. On reflection, it makes me sad.
I feel like I have lost my childhood. Actually, it's not really the disappearance of my childhood that saddens me - after all, I quite like being twenty, with all the perks and independence that brings - what I miss is the little girl inside me that is still capable of being childlike. The little girl who is still able to spend an afternoon, or even a few hours, doing something completely frivilous and fun, just for the sake of it; and without the stab of guilt afterwards.
And yet, maybe I haven't lost it completely. Perhaps my ability to be childlike is still inside me, I have just found a different way to channel it. A way to channel that boundless imagination and feeling of complete freedom into something that could possibly end up as something productive. I write and that is all I want to do. Interestingly, my first stories featured the characters from my Lego games.
So, you see, my Lego playing wasn't a complete waste of time after all.
Or at least it won't have been, if I ever make it as a writer.
Perhaps if I do, I should start playing again...
I think we should reclaim lego. I for one am going to dig the old blocks out of the attic.
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