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My daughter and I play a game called yellow car. The rules are quite simple. When you’re driving around if you see a yellow car, the first person to shout “Yellow Car” gets three points. If you see a pink car and shout “Pink Car” you get five points. The person who gets the most points wins. It’s no CNPS, but you have to start somewhere.
My son has a version of the game where he shouts out the colour of any car he sees and awards himself a number of points that he decides, which might be five or might be a million.
I think Yellow Car is a better game. It’s nicely balanced and congrats to whichever gaming genius came up with it. There are just about enough yellow cars to allow you to see a few on each decent trip, but not so many that you see them all the time. So much of the game is actually about remembering you’re playing Yellow Car. If your opponent forgets about it, that’s when you strike.
Pink cars are few and far between - they really should get more points than they do, like the little flying ball in Quidditch that makes the rest of the sport pointless, because you get way too many points for catching it. But five points is fair and we often pass a pink car parked near Welwyn Village (if you want to play the game and be able to defeat a child, then you’ll be glad of that info - it’s usually parked pretty near a yellow car too) to add a bit of jeopardy to the game.
My daughter is a cheat and has to win at all costs (I don’t know where she gets this from) and often ignores it if I see the yellow car first, but it’s great to have a shared interest.
The problem is that I still play Yellow Car when I am on my own. I had to really stop myself playing it when Ben was in the car yesterday. Is it OK for a 54 year old man to shout out "Yellow Car” when he sees a yellow car, even if he is alone? I suppose in many ways it’s the least of my problems.
Talking of which I did another Twitch of Fun tonight, which went pretty well until I ran out of steam at about 50 minutes. I included the letter and routines written by my great-grandad in 1917, so I can readily admit that the material was pretty old. But lovely to have that connection to the man who inadvertently started this ball rolling.
