You are at a school friend's birthday party in the 1980s

You are at a school friend's birthday party in the 1980s.

The games are the same as those you play at home - Tips, Hide & Seek, Statues, riding bikes, trampoline, road cricket, Totem Tennis, Frisbee, British Bulldog if it's not vetoed by an adult - except with more kids, which makes them 10 times funner.

There are no clowns painting faces or magicians vanishing scarves. There are no educational demonstrations of native wildlife. There are no jumping castles. Such things would be an unthinkable extravagance.

OK, there may be Pass The Parcel (using sheets of newspaper) or Pin The Tail On The Donkey. Those become less frequent as you grow older, though, as it's easier just to herd you all outdoors.

When it's lunchtime, you are allowed indoors again to crowd around a table laden with familiar favourites.

Golden-brown party pies and mini sausage rolls go fast, despite your pal's mother warning, "Careful - those might be a bit hot." One boy submerges his pie in a glass of lime soft drink to cool it. Problem solved.

Cocktail frankfurts always look weird and always taste delicious with their accompanying tomato sauce.

The crinkle-cut crisps are most likely plain, so as not to challenge childish palates. (You don't mind chicken flavour, but salt and vinegar are too strong, and you'll never understand the maniacs that claim to enjoy barbecue.)

Opposite the Tupperware bowl of chips, there's another of Cheezels. Inevitably, someone slides 10 of them onto their fingers and thumbs like rings, proudly showing off the bright orange jewellery...before suddenly realising they're falling behind in the sweet scoffing!

Chocolate Crackles and Honey Joys. Maybe iced cupcakes. Possibly a plate of creamy Butterfly Cakes, dusted with icing sugar and ripe for wing-plucking. Lamingtons if you're very lucky. Pink and white marshmallows. Jelly snakes that will be competitively stretched and s t r e t c h e d 'til they snap.

If there are additional lollies, they are the leftovers from those that were used to fill the goodie bags each child will receive, along with a slice of birthday cake wrapped in a napkin, when they leave. (Should there be an unappealing ingredient in said cake, e.g fruit, it'll pass to an older sibling.)

At the end of the day, there are minor breakages around the house and yard. Weary adults. Over-excited pets. New clothes are grass-stained. Young foreheads sweaty and hands sticky. Games peter out as energy levels begin to drop, and as more and more kids are collected.

Your car is waiting out the front now, so you're saying goodbye. You're clutching your take-home treats. You wish there was time for one more round of Hide & Seek as you've got the perfect spot, but your father has already beeped the horn twice and may start getting annoyed.

"Thanks for coming," says your school friend, dutifully. "See you on Monday. Oh, and thanks for the Space LEGO!"

Roll call

Most Saturday afternoons, I play in a 5E "D&D" campaign. We started with six players, only to regrettably lose one fellow as a result of changes to his work schedule, then another due to personal hassles outside of the game. The characters of the four remaining players are:

* Half-orc cleric/potter who worships a dwarven goddess and really wants to be a ranger
* Damaged human sorcerer experimented on as a youngster, with a number for a name
* Aging gnome wizard/sham fortune teller who'll steal anything that's not nailed down
* Human bard mirroring the real-life player (who has been transported to the "D&D" world via an antique found in our world).

Which, you'll agree, is enough wackiness for any campaign :-)