when I was a kid in the 1970,s there werent as many rules at Kingdom Hall. One of the greatest things was that for some reason, if you were below the age of 15 then micro mini dresses with long white socks were considered entirely appropriate dress. I have a photo of me and my two cousins at Kingdom Hall in 1977. One cousin was 4, I was 7 and the other was 10. The hems of our dresses all ended at the same point, despite the fact that cousin no 2 was twice as high as cousin no 1, meaning that the younger we were the shorter the dresses we were allowed to wear. Perhaps it was good old 70's home made poverty.
In those days you were allowed to wear clothes until you physically couldnt squeeze into them anymore. When that happened you gave them to some other kid in the hall lower down the height scale and pecking order than you. I was in the middle of the clothes pecking order which meant that I got clothes off mildly nerdy kids, but never of really cool kids. There was always a designated family at the bottom of the clothes cascade. To qualify for bottom position you had to have at least 5 kids, no telly, and wear NHS glasses. Preferably patched on one side to correct a lazy eye.
If you got hand me down clothes the trick was to wear the offending garment just once at a big show event like the C.O's visit or the memorial. That usually got you off the hook for ever having to wear it again. You had to make sure it wasnt a big event that involved field service right after though, or else your school friends would undoubtedly see you in some cordoroy wing collared chrisitian hemmed mum made thing.
The most bizarre hand me downs I got was a set of 4 blouses which were ALL see through! I kid you not. Chiffon. Chiffon my arse, they were bl00dy see through. I just couldn't bring myself to muster even one airing. I pretended I had suddenly grown an infeasibly wide back. A sort of pre teen incredible hulk.
The only thing worse that receiving wanky hand me downs was giving fabulous hand me downs to some nerdy kid lower down the social scale than you, and the ungrateful little bleeders not wearing them! How dare they shun that flower patterned wing collared flare skirted dress you had been wearing proudly for the last 3 years? Who the hell did they think they were, bl00dy Gloria Vanderbilt?
The other rules completely avoided in the 70's were health and safety rules. We used to have bar heaters suspended from the ceiling on chains at intervals along the length of the hall. This entirely safe form of heating ensured that the top of your head in every fourth row was scorched while the rest of your body, and indeed the entire hall, remained completely heat free. A darkened corridor to primeval toilets ensured nobody enjoyed a quick skive. Not with satan living in the urinals.
After the meeting we were allowed to go outside in summer and play in the road. There werent any cars so nobody ever got run over. If a car did drive past we all glowered at it wondering what the hell it thought it was doing on our play space. The best thing was the hot summer of '76 when the tar seeped up from between the cobbles and you could get a stick or your fingers and goo it about like black snot. Once it got on your clothes it never came out. Didnt matter. I was due to pass that one on to the big scruffy family any day now.
The only light relief on field service was to play a game my dad made up, called 'cats and dogs'. You had to pick one or the other and then you scored a point for each poo you identified as belonging to your animal. Well, how was I supposed to know cats buried it, when I was 7? Dad always won. Sometimes you got a billy bonus poo - a white one!! They were great, and they only seemed to exist in the 70's. I havent seen white dog poo for years. We could waste minutes between doors marvelling at the wonder of the white whoopsy. Once, and I must admit, this was the highlight of my entire career as a Jehovahs Witness, we saw a poo balanced on a small shrub that had been carefully trimmed to have a flat top. It was a thing of beauty. It was both awe inspiring, and thought provoking. It was the subject of conversation for many an evening after that. How on earth had the dog balanced on that bush while it decanted its innards? Was it a pooch with a sense of humour? Or a vendetta? The only thing we knew for sure was that it was a dog doo. Dad got that point. I didnt begrudge him it though. Really it deserved 2 points.
Other games available of field service were seasonal - sticky bud fights in autumn when the bushes got the sticky buds, popping those popper seeds pods in summer, god they were fantastic, and even the service overseer would spend at least 30 minutes looking for the biggest pods to pop AND still counting his time! And finally 30 of us squeezing into the back of the one car owned in the entire congregation, no seatbelts needed, we just climbed onto each others laps, squashed into the footwells, and grinning with undisguised delight at the people who hadnt managed a seat in the car and had to walk 4 miles home. Ha ha, they shouldnt have been so bothered about wanting to finish off the street!
Even better was if the car owner felt obliged to invite you back for a cup of tea, although this was a double edged sword. If they had a car it was highly likely they had a telly too. There was a slim chance you might get to see the last of Swap Shop. But on the other hand driving you all to their house and giving you a drink was a sneaky way of not having to then give you a lift home. You could walk from their house because Match of the Day was on and they just had to watch Leeds try for the double. You had to quickly calculate if the devious bast*rd lived closer to your home or further away than where you currently were, and then accept or decline the cup of tea accordingly; "oh no brother tight-arse, I really couldnt manage a cup of tea, just drop me off at home".
On the other hand, if you had to walk 4 miles home you could place a tract two doors away from where you lived and could the whole 2 hours, plus the 45 minutes you had spent spotting dog poo and popping seeds pods.
But then they invented rules - proper dresses, central heating and seat belts. Thats when I knew I had to leave.