Top 30 playground games from marbles to British Bulldog
The study revealed that over half of the adults surveyed played outdoor games daily during their school years. Other beloved playground pastimes included football cards, yo-yos, 'Cat's Cradle' and hopscotch.
Most adults felt these activities were instrumental in forming friendships when they were younger, with nearly three-quarters saying these interactions are some of their most cherished childhood memories.
Gillian McMahon, executive director of international charity Right To Play, commented: "Play is a deep-rooted part of childhood in the UK; however, millions of children globally are unable to claim this basic right."
Right to Play is dedicated to transforming the lives of millions of children annually through play. Gillian added: "Extreme challenges such as conflict, poverty, child labour and early marriage are depriving many vulnerable children of the childhood they deserve."
The research was released to coincide with International Day of Play on June 11. This UN-recognised day aims to raise awareness about the vital importance of play for children, and emphasise it as a fundamental right.
According to the research, most adults are not aware that children's right to play is protected by international law.
However, a significant majority of 67% agree that every child should have the right to play, recognising its benefits, including physical exercise, forming friendships, and developing essential social skills like empathy and cooperation.
Gillian McMahon emphasised: "Many children are denied the chance to just be kids. We are working to change this situation.
"Through our global programmes, we are reaching more than 4.7 million vulnerable children each year in some of the most difficult places on earth.
"Using the power of play we are helping children to stay in school, resist exploitation, overcome prejudice and heal from the trauma of war and displacement."
TOP 30 PLAYGROUND GAMES OF ALL TIME:
Hide and Seek
Tag/You're It
Skipping ropes (solo and group games)
Marbles
Hopscotch
Conkers
British Bulldog
What's the Time, Mr Wolf?
Football stickers
Football cards
Hand clapping games (e.g. A Sailor Went to Sea, Miss Mary Mack)
Cat's Cradle
Yo-Yos
Simon Says
Sticker albums
Stuck in the Mud
Duck, Duck, Goose
Top Trumps
Swingball
Ring-a-Ring o' Roses
Elastics
Paper fortune tellers (chatterboxes)
'The Floor is Lava'
Pokemon cards
Tamagotchis
Pogs
Grandma's Footsteps
Sleeping Lions
Double Dutch
Loom bands
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
The Guardian
16-07-2025
- The Guardian
A moment that changed me: I stopped drinking – and realised what friendship really meant
The conversation began with an apology. I'd rehearsed it many times, trying not to sound too defensive or pitiful. I'd walked through every potential rejection that might come as a result of letting my friend Gillian into a side of my life I'd tried hard to keep hidden. But she had just told me that she wanted to come to visit me in New Haven, so I was cornered. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'I'm sober now.' I felt embarrassed. 'I have stopped drinking,' I added, to clarify. 'If you visit, I can't drink with you.' In the pause that followed, I imagined her politely trying to work her way out of coming to see me, now that our favourite thing to do together wasn't an option. 'Thank God,' she said. 'You were a nightmare when you drank.' That's the good thing about true friends: they're more likely to be honest than polite. I met Gillian in a pub in Glasgow in 2016, treating my hangover with a vodka and Diet Coke at 11am. We connected over the inevitable heartbreaks and uncertainty we were living through during our mid-20s and our plans to pursue further education in the US, and we got drunk together – often. Drinking had always been practical for me. Without effort, it dissolved the self-conscious, self-critical and awkward parts of myself. It was my support for social situations and making friends, something I had struggled with since secondary school. I'd heard about people who had this kind of relationship with alcohol and that, somewhere down the line, it becomes a problem. I thought I could delay that for as long as possible. I hid my emotional dependence on alcohol in plain sight. I made my drinking a performance, tidying up my sometimes bizarre, sometimes dangerous behaviour into fun anecdotes. I was the wildcard, the bohemian, the hedonist. My days were spent either hungover, drunk or looking to drink. There was a sense of community in that; I could always find someone in a similar headspace, recruit them to my cause and call them my friends. From centre stage, I didn't realise that the people closest to me were tired of The Lauren Show. With time, I started to realise that I drank even when I didn't want to, that I couldn't stop once I started, but I didn't think anyone else noticed. I still thought it was what made me interesting, creative, exciting – the reason people would want to be around me. In my last days of drinking, the anxiety that alcohol could no longer suppress turned to doom. I withdrew, watching the same episodes of BoJack Horseman on repeat in my bedroom. Early recovery was a lonely experience: I avoided most people for fear of what they would think of me as a sober person, someone to whom they could no longer relate. When I spent time with other sober people, I assumed they were just taking pity on me. When you stop drinking, you're confronted with the reasons you started. When Gillian arrived to see me in New Haven, I had to face the fact that I had long avoided emotional intimacy; I was uncomfortable being myself, even around those I loved. I felt vulnerable without alcohol as my armour and got my first taste of what actually goes into maintaining an adult friendship. Gillian and I filled our time together visiting libraries and museums, being present with each other, and talking about so much more than we did when we were busy piecing together nights out that I couldn't remember. To my surprise, we also laughed more during her visit than we ever had before. She wanted to spend time with me – and not a hologram of what I thought she wanted me to be. Alcohol wasn't the bonding agent I thought it was. In fact, it was the thing I was using to keep people at a distance. I realised that drinking was actually a barrier to making lasting connections, but sobriety wasn't – I just needed to get some practice. Friendship is an action and an experience, and trying to numb the parts I found uncomfortable meant I'd never truly experienced the benefits before. After Gillian returned home, I decided to approach my existing friendships with a bit more willingness and honesty. With new friends, whether they were sober or not, I could better get to know them, now that I was no longer obsessing about myself and how I was coming across. Entering my 30s, I have realised that friendship isn't something you can fall into and take for granted; it is a necessity. It's an age when many of us start families and take the next steps in our careers, while our parents often aren't as healthy as they used to be and you can't look for the adult in the room any more, because most of the time it's you. These realities require a support that alcohol can't offer, especially if it makes you unreliable, unpredictable or shut-down. Now when I tell friends – old and new – that I don't drink, I don't feel the need to apologise; I know we'll have a better time without the booze. No Lost Causes Club: An Honest Guide to Recovery, and How to Find Your Way Through It by Lauren McQuistin is published on 17 July by 4th Estate (£16.99). To support the Guardian, buy a copy at Delivery charges may apply
The Guardian
16-07-2025
- The Guardian
A moment that changed me: I stopped drinking – and realised what friendship really meant
The conversation began with an apology. I'd rehearsed it many times, trying not to sound too defensive or pitiful. I'd walked through every potential rejection that might come as a result of letting my friend Gillian into a side of my life I'd tried hard to keep hidden. But she had just told me that she wanted to come to visit me in New Haven, so I was cornered. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'I'm sober now.' I felt embarrassed. 'I have stopped drinking,' I added, to clarify. 'If you visit, I can't drink with you.' In the pause that followed, I imagined her politely trying to work her way out of coming to see me, now that our favourite thing to do together wasn't an option. 'Thank God,' she said. 'You were a nightmare when you drank.' That's the good thing about true friends: they're more likely to be honest than polite. I met Gillian in a pub in Glasgow in 2016, treating my hangover with a vodka and Diet Coke at 11am. We connected over the inevitable heartbreaks and uncertainty we were living through during our mid-20s and our plans to pursue further education in the US, and we got drunk together – often. Drinking had always been practical for me. Without effort, it dissolved the self-conscious, self-critical and awkward parts of myself. It was my support for social situations and making friends, something I had struggled with since secondary school. I'd heard about people who had this kind of relationship with alcohol and that, somewhere down the line, it becomes a problem. I thought I could delay that for as long as possible. I hid my emotional dependence on alcohol in plain sight. I made my drinking a performance, tidying up my sometimes bizarre, sometimes dangerous behaviour into fun anecdotes. I was the wildcard, the bohemian, the hedonist. My days were spent either hungover, drunk or looking to drink. There was a sense of community in that; I could always find someone in a similar headspace, recruit them to my cause and call them my friends. From centre stage, I didn't realise that the people closest to me were tired of The Lauren Show. With time, I started to realise that I drank even when I didn't want to, that I couldn't stop once I started, but I didn't think anyone else noticed. I still thought it was what made me interesting, creative, exciting – the reason people would want to be around me. In my last days of drinking, the anxiety that alcohol could no longer suppress turned to doom. I withdrew, watching the same episodes of BoJack Horseman on repeat in my bedroom. Early recovery was a lonely experience: I avoided most people for fear of what they would think of me as a sober person, someone to whom they could no longer relate. When I spent time with other sober people, I assumed they were just taking pity on me. When you stop drinking, you're confronted with the reasons you started. When Gillian arrived to see me in New Haven, I had to face the fact that I had long avoided emotional intimacy; I was uncomfortable being myself, even around those I loved. I felt vulnerable without alcohol as my armour and got my first taste of what actually goes into maintaining an adult friendship. Gillian and I filled our time together visiting libraries and museums, being present with each other, and talking about so much more than we did when we were busy piecing together nights out that I couldn't remember. To my surprise, we also laughed more during her visit than we ever had before. She wanted to spend time with me – and not a hologram of what I thought she wanted me to be. Alcohol wasn't the bonding agent I thought it was. In fact, it was the thing I was using to keep people at a distance. I realised that drinking was actually a barrier to making lasting connections, but sobriety wasn't – I just needed to get some practice. Friendship is an action and an experience, and trying to numb the parts I found uncomfortable meant I'd never truly experienced the benefits before. After Gillian returned home, I decided to approach my existing friendships with a bit more willingness and honesty. With new friends, whether they were sober or not, I could better get to know them, now that I was no longer obsessing about myself and how I was coming across. Entering my 30s, I have realised that friendship isn't something you can fall into and take for granted; it is a necessity. It's an age when many of us start families and take the next steps in our careers, while our parents often aren't as healthy as they used to be and you can't look for the adult in the room any more, because most of the time it's you. These realities require a support that alcohol can't offer, especially if it makes you unreliable, unpredictable or shut-down. Now when I tell friends – old and new – that I don't drink, I don't feel the need to apologise; I know we'll have a better time without the booze. No Lost Causes Club: An Honest Guide to Recovery, and How to Find Your Way Through It by Lauren McQuistin is published on 17 July by 4th Estate (£16.99). To support the Guardian, buy a copy at Delivery charges may apply
North Wales Live
12-06-2025
- North Wales Live
Top 30 playground games from marbles to British Bulldog
A poll of 2,000 adults has unveiled the enduring popularity of traditional children's games, with classics like marbles, British Bulldog, conkers and 'What's the Time, Mr Wolf?' making the top 10 list. The study revealed that over half of the adults surveyed played outdoor games daily during their school years. Other beloved playground pastimes included football cards, yo-yos, 'Cat's Cradle' and hopscotch. Most adults felt these activities were instrumental in forming friendships when they were younger, with nearly three-quarters saying these interactions are some of their most cherished childhood memories. Gillian McMahon, executive director of international charity Right To Play, commented: "Play is a deep-rooted part of childhood in the UK; however, millions of children globally are unable to claim this basic right." Right to Play is dedicated to transforming the lives of millions of children annually through play. Gillian added: "Extreme challenges such as conflict, poverty, child labour and early marriage are depriving many vulnerable children of the childhood they deserve." The research was released to coincide with International Day of Play on June 11. This UN-recognised day aims to raise awareness about the vital importance of play for children, and emphasise it as a fundamental right. According to the research, most adults are not aware that children's right to play is protected by international law. However, a significant majority of 67% agree that every child should have the right to play, recognising its benefits, including physical exercise, forming friendships, and developing essential social skills like empathy and cooperation. Gillian McMahon emphasised: "Many children are denied the chance to just be kids. We are working to change this situation. "Through our global programmes, we are reaching more than 4.7 million vulnerable children each year in some of the most difficult places on earth. "Using the power of play we are helping children to stay in school, resist exploitation, overcome prejudice and heal from the trauma of war and displacement." TOP 30 PLAYGROUND GAMES OF ALL TIME: Hide and Seek Tag/You're It Skipping ropes (solo and group games) Marbles Hopscotch Conkers British Bulldog What's the Time, Mr Wolf? Football stickers Football cards Hand clapping games (e.g. A Sailor Went to Sea, Miss Mary Mack) Cat's Cradle Yo-Yos Simon Says Sticker albums Stuck in the Mud Duck, Duck, Goose Top Trumps Swingball Ring-a-Ring o' Roses Elastics Paper fortune tellers (chatterboxes) 'The Floor is Lava' Pokemon cards Tamagotchis Pogs Grandma's Footsteps Sleeping Lions Double Dutch Loom bands
