So there we were, a cluster of us men-folk, standing around by the cannon, the flagpole, and the benches of doom, nursing our minor injuries. Why, one might ask, were we nursing minor injuries? That would be because we’d just played a rousing, and painful, outdoor game of Ablewhackets. Why were we playing Ablewhackets in the first place? That would be one of those ‘why not?’ deals (along the same lines as ‘why does a large grown man willingly hold an inflated leather-covered rubber bladder and run toward a bunch of even larger grown men who are waiting to squash him like a bug?’).