Children's Dens

Every child builds a 'den' at some point, its as inevitable as bad weather in Britain. There must be thousands of little hideaways scattered around the countryside, either built in a slapdash kind of way or lovingly created by would be Lofty Wismans. And Burry has more than its fair share, due partly to the author of this page. With the help of my brother and friends I must have built at least twenty of the things, usually up on the hills but sometimes near the park or tramline. I remember even having one in a hedge near the pavement of a busy street (Stepney Street.)
The best ones were always way up on the hillsides, one being a splendid effort for a bunch of young teenagers. It had a solid frame using carefully chosen tree branches, lashed together with rope and covered over with tarpaulin (stolen from another gangs den) and topped off with the obligatory leafy shoots and branches. It was marvelous and would have passed muster in any army training camp. Heck we even furnished the inside with the cushions and foam from an old sofa and it would hold five or six of us as we camped out often.
We would camp out for days, getting to know every hidden path along the hillside and sometimes laying snares in the hope to bag a rabbit or two. The critters were in plentiful supply but none were to get lured into our rickety traps, and we wouldn't have known how to skin one anyway!
A den wasn't just a place to play soldiers, they were our attempts to have our own space, a place where we could smoke, curse and drink freely without parents haunting our necks. And some of the more boozier sessions would definately have had them in fits of anger. Every child (especially boys) ought to have had a den; a a prickly cove to get away from school and homework.
Real Huck Finns but swigging Felinfoel Ale rather than sucking on clay pipes.