…never the iron.
Which is weird because I kind of hate dogs.
Okay so why am I blogging about Monopoly? Because I’ve run out of ideas? Because it runs in the same vein as this confused array of posts I call Dawdlings? Yes.
However. The real reason is because I woke up this morning and suddenly had an urge to play it. And I couldn’t think why. After minutes – or moments – of contemplation, I’m putting this down to two things:
1. I’m suffering from manflu = moany, whiny, snotty, sleepy manflu. And playing board games seems both comforting and the maximum amount of energy I can muster
2. I was recently in contact with an ex-boyfriend who, two weeks into our relationship, I discovered had never played Monopoly. Not a very romantic discovery? We lived in Manchester, it rained a lot…
But let’s take a look at the latter. As 1 is far too self-indulgent (even more so than this blog).
I (wrongly) assumed everyone had played Monopoly. Played, not finished. So when my housemate at the time suggested we all sit down and play it one day, I was a little shocked when questions like “How much do I get when I pass go?” and “How do I get out of prison?” popped up from the aforementioned ex boyfriend.
Now he tried to pretend, “Oh it’s been a long time since I played” but it soon became apparent this was a lie. A big fat lie. And yet, he won.
Down to, I should add, my housemate and him doing some rather underhand out-of-the-rules deals. He hadn’t played but he knew how to win. So when I decided I didn’t want to play after a while *girly strop*, and because he had the most property and money: he was declared the winner. Which isn’t really winning.
I later found out this wasn’t the only case of childhood-staples neglect. And because I’ve woken up with this in mind – and I’m not really sure where this blog post is going – I felt this was a good opp to (sort of) name and shame, and deliver a lesson in parenting. Despite not having any children myself…
So here goes:
The rest came in film form. Films.
I don’t know if it’s because I watched too much TV as a child – and still as an adult – but there are films you must have seen. Films that are still literally impossible to avoid every Sunday afternoon, if you’re horizontal, flicking through the channels like me.
Three Men and a Baby/Little Lady
Father of the Bride
To name just the biggies. Again, memories almost certainly attached to being ill and spending quality time with my duvet. And okay there are a few I didn’t see as a child either, like The Never Ending Story (sounds rubbish).
But parents of the…now. Don’t let you children grow up without these must-see 80s classics or terribly boring bored (couldn’t resist) games. Or anything else for that matter that may seem pointless and tiring at the time. (Anyone else starting to see a class divide here?)
You never know when quotes like “I made my family disappear” or “Go straight to jail, do not pass GO, do no collect £200” will slip by your child’s adult cultural reference. In pub, club or work situations. (You’re right, no one’s quoting Monopoly or Home Alone in clubs. But still…)
These things will never be necessary but certainly essential.
What was my point again?