Stuck in a Virtual Limbo Dancer

First day back at school and full of intrigue as ever. I showed off my Egyptian amulet in genuine sand and scored 10 house points for having included an archaeological paintbrush to uncover it with. Ben's bringing his in tomorrow, says it's so big he has to have his dad to lift it.
Our teacher showed us her holiday snaps and we did the dome in the assembly hall which is a planetarium-like display hemisphere with films and sound effects and at one point, a dinosaur hunting for us. At least he knew that they were all extinct long before the Egyptians turned up. We had to write our names in Hieroglyphics and mine is Owl-Vulture-Bowl of water with folded up towel.
After lunch I was in the toilet when Eddie, Oakley and Stanley came in and stuck their hands under the cubicle wall trying to grab my legs, moaning like so many floor-level zombies.
Then they sang made-up songs with rude body part lyrics and I went straight to the teacher and told on them. They had to go on detention.
I am later informed that getting a reputation as a snitch may not help my standing within the school authority hierarchy, let alone the student popularity pecking order.
Guitars don't start till next week so we had time to investigate the little swingpark by the motorway. But we never made it because the Stamshaw Adventure Playground was open! I've been there once before with YMCA, but we've never seen it open since.
It's quite broken inside but full of herbs and fruit trees and kids playing "Cannons".
First, you split into 2 teams. You make a 'Castle' up against the wall, made of 4 sticks, it closely resembles a wicket. Team A throws the tennis ball at it, Team B tries to stop them, and at some given point, the game metamorphoses into the chasing and throwing part in which throwers try to target runners, who can catch it and live, or get hit and die. The ball goes anywhere, and we had to rescue it from patches of stinging nettles twice, and we were only there for 20 minutes.
I will return to this council-provided oasis of play in a sombre area of less-fortunate housing where brightly coloured sweatpants are in, and tongues are out. Tyres are freely provided, climbing frames with ropes are extensive, as are the water features.
ps. Some 11 years before I was born, my parents won a Limbo competition at Hotel Club Chellah, Tangier, Morocco. The bar was a broomstick held by the entertainment staff and competitors were in pairs and had to remain joined (holding hands) when passing under the bar, using devious and clever means. The bar gradually lowered as the rounds passed and in the end, they were judged equal against some little kids, the difference in body size being unfair at that point. We still have the certificate.