Our 1960s bedtimes and the Bong Song....

You hear a lot among parents of young children about bedtimes. Should they have set bedtimes at all? And if they do, how do you get them to stay there if they don't want to?

When we were children our mum expected us to be in bed quite early. So keen was she on this that she sometimes went to great lengths to get us there and make sure we stayed there. In my opinion she was a pioneer in this field. You had to admire her ingenuity and persistence.

Bedtimes in our house could be fun. The first stage would involve Mum encouraging us up the stairs by terrifying the life out of us, chasing us and going ‘Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!’ behind us, making pecking gestures with her hands. If she caught you, you would get a pinch on the bottom, but you never got caught because you got up those stairs in double quick time. Which, of course, was the whole idea.

The Bong Song

The next stage, getting undressed and ready for bed, was considerably enlivened by what we thought of as the Bong Song. Not a song really, but part of a poem Mum had learnt as a child and now scared us into bed with. It was about the curfew introduced by King William I to keep the peasants from revolt, and it went like this –

At bong number one they all started to run

Like a warren of rabbits upset by a gun.

At bong number two they were all in a stew

Flinging cap after tunic and hose after shoe.

At bong number three they were bare to the knee

Undoing the doings as quick as could be.

At bong number four they were stripped to the core

Pulling on nightshirts the wrong side before.

At bong number five they were looking alive

Bizzing and buzzing like bees in a hive

At bong number six they gave themselves kicks

Tripping over rushes to snuff out the wicks

At bong number seven from Durham to Devon

They slipped up a prayer to our Father in heaven

At bong number eight they were all in a state

And with hearts beating all at a terrible rate

They jumped BONG into bed like a bull at a gate.

The pace and volume at which Mum delivered this verse started quite slow and quiet, and gradually picked up as it went along, finishing in a crescendo of terror with the final BONG, by which time you had better be in your bed or goodness knows what might happen to you.

If we were lucky, Mum might decide to have a bath when she had settled us into bed. On these occasions she would sing us lullabies and other soothing songs while she relaxed, hoping we'd drift contentedly off to sleep. It usually worked. You can't beat the sound of ‘Scarlet Ribbons’ drifting steamily out of the bathroom to get you in the mood for sleep.

In summer we still had to go to bed at our bedtime, however light it might be outside. Mum would try to fool us into sleep by pegging a blanket over the curtains to make it dark, but it just made it stuffy. Anyhow, we could still hear the enticing sounds of the summer evening going on outside – perhaps a neighbour mowing his lawn with a push- mower. A relaxing sound but not relaxing enough when you can also hear the sounds of other children playing. Lucky them, allowed to stay up and enjoy the balmy weather outside. Neighbours chatting and laughing, everyone happy and still enjoying the day while we had to be cooped up in a darkened room.

So, did we drift off to sleep?

Of course not. We invented all sorts of ways to amuse ourselves. It was just not possible to resist the urge to peek behind the blanket and look at the world outside the window. Sometimes we would see the next door neighbour pottering about in his garden. On one occasion we thought we would shout things out of the window at him. It was so funny to imagine him glancing round nervously, wondering where on earth the voices were coming from. It hadn't dawned on us that he would know immediately. Anyhow, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

“Oi!” bawled Saggy;

 “YOU!”

“ YOU DOWN THERE! YOU WITH THE BEARD!”

And we both disappeared double quick behind the blanket, pleased with ourselves and giggling uncontrollably. However, we had forgotten that he wasn't the only one who could hear us. All the neighbours who happened to be enjoying the evening sun also heard.

Unfortunately for us that included our parents. We didn't try that one again.

Trying to get around the room without touching the floor was a favourite, but tended to get noisier than we meant it to. We might try sneaking across the landing to our little brother’s room. That was dangerous, as you might get caught the wrong side of the top of the stairs. Usually Mum would come up the stairs and tell us to be quiet. So we would subside for a few minutes before starting to chatter and giggle, getting louder without realising it. Mum would come toiling up the stairs again, getting a bit fed up now. And this would be repeated a few times, Mum starting to get really cheesed off. Then at last would come the ultimate chilling threat, the last resort of a mother whose patience was exhausted….

‘If you don't stop it Dad will be coming up…….’

We couldn't seem to help ourselves though, and would be in the middle of larking about and giggling when we would become aware that Dad had materialised in the doorway. How long he had been there and how much he had heard we had no idea.

Anyway, that was the end of the naughtiness.

You didn't mess with Dad.

Moo