I’ve got a larger-than-usual collection of tabs at the moment – all the pages I just keep coming back to as I think about work and play and playwork. They all seem to dovetail and suggest a shape that I can’t identify yet.
Here are they are, for your consideration.
I came across this last one late yesterday evening, getting sucked into the story of one couple’s fostering so deeply that I went to the archives started the blog again from the beginning. There should be a word, just for that.
When I finally let it go and went to bed, I took a copy of David Almond‘s Heaven Eyes, that I picked up for 20p the last time I was traveling. It included something rather wonderful – the first reference I have ever come across to playwork in a novel. It was so surprising, seeing it so unexpectedly, like bumping into a friend from home when you’re on holiday.
Set in a children’s home, the book is narrated by Erin Law, who carefully explains the following:
“A dozen or so children live here. Some of us, like Maureen, are filled by sadness, or eaten up with bitterness. Some of us have broken hearts and troubled souls. But most of us love each other and look out for each other. We always knew that if we cared for each other, we could put up with the psychiatrists who came, the psychologists, the social workers, the care workers, the play workers, the drugs workers, the health workers, the welfare workers. We knew we could put up with Maureen with her assistants. We could put up with her questions and her coldness and her circle times. We knew that we could find a tiny corner of the Paradise that we’d all lost.”