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Back when I was little, birthday parties tended to be very simple affairs. Massively more so than they are now.
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Musical statues...
Pin the tail on the donkey...
Musical chairs...
Pass the parcel...
... with none of that new fangled idea of having a little prize in every layer so no-one feels left out...
... oh no... it was winner takes all.
(incidentially do you remember the sort of gambling quiz "Winner Take All" off the telly? The one with Tarby?)
Treasure hunt...
erm... and a load of other games that I forget.
Anyone remember any more "you can't have a party without XYX game" candidates?
And then time for tea...
Again very traditional (aka predictable) fayre...
Sandwiches... (what is that in that one? Smells like meat paste. Ugh, I'll pass thanks)
Twiglets... did anyone actually like those things? Did you realise they still make them? Utter madness!
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Cheese and pineapple on sticks.
Sometimes make to look like a hedgehog.
And the combination that, it would appear, everyone in the UK thought was the best thing since sliced bread...
...except me.
It was possibly the biggest birthday party staple of all...
I like jelly...
I like ice cream...
But I'm sorry... jelly and ice cream together, in the same bowl... it's just not nice.
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In fact it's downright unpleasant.
Surely someone somewhere must agree with me?
And then the party would be topped off by the cake.
Uber sweet, with jam and fake cream.
Or a soft. sticky chocolate topping.
And the rule for every party was that when you went home afterwards you always left clutching a piece of cake...
... and it was always wrapped in a tissue.
Mandatory.
So that by the time you got home, having held the tissue covered cake in your grubby little mitt for 10 minutes, the boundary between the now-soggy tissue and the treat inside was non existant.
So you just ate the lot!
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