This article is from the source 'guardian' and was first published or seen on . It last changed over 40 days ago and won't be checked again for changes.

You can find the current article at its original source at http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/jul/02/no-ball-games-haringey-council-children-play-obesity

The article has changed 2 times. There is an RSS feed of changes available.

Version 0 Version 1
Yes, let’s get rid of ‘no ball games’ signs – but it won’t solve our problems Yes, let’s get rid of ‘no ball games’ signs – but it won’t solve our problems
(about 3 hours later)
Haringey council in north London is to review the use of “no ball games” signs on its estates, to encourage children to play outside. This news reminds me of the time I crashed into one wearing rollerskates, thus proving it was possible to obey the sign’s instructions and yet still endanger your health. Haringey council in north London is to review the use of “no ball games” signs on its estates, to encourage children to play outside. This reminds me of the time I crashed into one wearing rollerskates, thus proving it was possible to obey its instructions and yet still endanger your health.
The miserliness of such signs seems to reinforce an unfortunate British attitude towards the idea of other people doing things: they are nimby-ism made concrete, or rather metal. They are not even enforceable by law: they are simply there to discourage and to prod, yet their continued presence suggests a long history of uncomfortable relations between children and adults – particularly childless or elderly ones – on British estates. The miserliness of such signs seems to reinforce an unfortunate British attitude towards the idea of other people doing things: they are nimby-ism made concrete, or rather metal. Their place in our landscape was sent up by the artist Banksy in a mural which showed two children playing catch with the sign.
The social historian Emily Cockayne writes in Cheek By Jowl, her excellent history of neighbouring, about post-war estates on which parents would come to blows every summer over their children’s unruly playing styles. “I dread school holidays,” one Sheffield mother told researchers. “I have more quarrels and lose more friends than in the whole rest of the year.” Such instructions forbidding ball games – and, sometimes, rollerskating too – are not even enforceable by law: they are simply there to discourage and to prod, yet their continued presence suggests a long history of uncomfortable relations between children and adults on British estates.
Use of the signs rose in tandem with the litany of rules, both written and unwritten, surrounding the maintenance of order and respectability on early council estates, built to house (or contain, depending on your view of things) working-class families from urban streets on which it was assumed that chaos reigned.
The social historian Emily Cockayne writes in Cheek By Jowl, her excellent history of neighbours, about postwar estates on which parents would come to blows every summer over their children’s unruly playing styles. “I dread school holidays,” one Sheffield mother told researchers. “I have more quarrels and lose more friends than in the whole rest of the year.”
Cockayne notes that immediately after the war, when the government rushed to build new homes, the layout and landscape of proposed new estates was urgently discussed. Competing plans for the Woodchurch estate in Birkenhead prioritised, respectively, the need to “allow the estate’s residents to keep away from each other as much as possible” and to “retain the friendliness of the little streets”. The first plan would build houses looking away from each other; the second would cluster them around village-style greens to encourage neighbourliness and informal social encounters. The latter was rejected by the then Tory-led council on the grounds that estate-dwelling children would turn the greens into “hardened mud, with footballs whizzing past the noses of the incautious”.Cockayne notes that immediately after the war, when the government rushed to build new homes, the layout and landscape of proposed new estates was urgently discussed. Competing plans for the Woodchurch estate in Birkenhead prioritised, respectively, the need to “allow the estate’s residents to keep away from each other as much as possible” and to “retain the friendliness of the little streets”. The first plan would build houses looking away from each other; the second would cluster them around village-style greens to encourage neighbourliness and informal social encounters. The latter was rejected by the then Tory-led council on the grounds that estate-dwelling children would turn the greens into “hardened mud, with footballs whizzing past the noses of the incautious”.
On the estate where I grew up, “no ball games” signs were ubiquitous, but had little relevance because we mostly tended to play on paths, in underpasses, or in the road, which then hosted far less traffic. But at some point in the later 1980s, children stopped playing in the street at all. It seemed to happen overnight. As a child, earlier in that decade, I remember the road outside our house teeming with children on bikes and rollerskates between 4pm and 8pm every weeknight. On the estate where I grew up, “no ball games” signs were ubiquitous, but had little relevance because we mostly tended to play on paths, in underpasses, or in the road, which back then hosted far less traffic. But at some point in the later 1980s, children stopped playing in the street at all. It seemed to happen overnight. I can remember earlier in that decade when the road outside our house was teeming with children on bikes and skateboards between 4pm and 8pm every weeknight.
Proponents of home zones believe that cars, not signs, are by far the greater impediment to free play in neighbourhoodsProponents of home zones believe that cars, not signs, are by far the greater impediment to free play in neighbourhoods
Suddenly that stopped, an occurrence that I attribute – if anecdotally – not to stranger danger but to a sudden increase in car ownership, which coincided with the deregulation of bus services and the aggressive promotion of cars as the only socially acceptable means of getting around. Restricted to our small back garden by invisible rules which stated that playing in public was no longer OK, my attempts at playing badminton with my parents resulted in us getting through untold packs of pound-shop shuttlecocks, which our curmudgeonly next-door neighbour would return, weeks later, covered in algae from his pond. Suddenly that stopped, an occurrence that I attribute – if anecdotally – not to stranger danger but to a sudden increase in car ownership, which coincided with the deregulation of bus services and the aggressive promotion of cars as the only socially acceptable means of getting around. Restricted to our small back garden by invisible rules which stated that playing in public was no longer OK, attempts at playing badminton with my parents resulted in us getting through untold packs of pound-shop shuttlecocks. Our curmudgeonly next-door neighbour would return them, weeks later, covered in algae from his pond.
“Play streets”, the precursors to present-day “home zones”, were legislated for as early as the mid-20th century, but their value to children, and to community life, was overlooked as car use took prominence from the 1960s onwards. Since the turn of this century there has been a small upswing in the number of residential streets that restrict or ban moving cars when children are likely to be playing. Proponents of home zones believe, as I do, that cars, and not inanimate signs, are by far the greater impediment to free play in neighbourhoods. “Play streets”, the precursors to present-day “home zones”, were legislated for as early as the mid-20th century, but their value to children and community life was overlooked as car use took prominence from the 1960s onwards. Since the turn of this century there has been a small upswing in the number of residential streets that restrict or ban moving cars when children are likely to be playing. Proponents of home zones believe, as I do, that cars, not signs, are by far the greater impediment to free play in neighbourhoods.
Removing “no ball games” signs will not solve the problem of mass childhood obesity, which is the result of combining factors that have little to do with children spending less time playing outdoors. Children gain excess weight through anxiety, through their parents’ excessive car use (itself resulting from anxiety that children aren’t safe walking or taking the bus to school), through endless pressures on parents’ – particularly poorer parents’ – time and finances, which in turn affect family diet. It’s only partly because of staying indoors that children become overweight. If the signs were changed to state “Play outside! No one will mind!”, they would still be ignored. That said, removing “no ball games” signs will not solve the problem of mass childhood obesity, which is the result of a combination of factors that have little to do with the young spending less time playing outdoors. Children gain excess weight through anxiety, through their parents’ excessive car use (itself resulting from the anxiety that they aren’t safe walking or taking the bus to school), and through endless pressures on parents’ time and finances, which in turn affect family diet.
Permitting ball games, as generous as such a move looks, won’t make children healthier. If the signs were changed to state “Play outside! No one will mind!”, they would still be ignored.