Running with glee down the cobblestone street,full of youthful joy and never downbeat.Playing football with all the neighborhood kids,being a nuisance and banging garbage can lids.Kicking a tin can and throwing stones,childish pleasures and prepubescent hormones.Mothers with prams and wailing babies,girls in the park making chains of daisies.A screech of brakes and slamming doors,cricket on Sunday's and summer downpours.Moths fluttering around the dim streetlight,an adventure waiting at the building site.Running home from school to watch the telly,looking in the fridge for custard and jelly.Sharing a bath with your siblings,playing in the park on roundabouts and swings.Summer holidays and trips to the beach,we kids have code words its a figure of speech.The hopeful melodic sounds of a distant ice cream van,carefully crossing a road with the Lollipop Man.Riding bikes and pretending to be a daredevil,kissing a girl and feeling heroic and special.