FROM THE DAY THAT I became a Dad, I knew which Dad I wanted to be — the one in Swiss Family Robinson, the kind of Dad who could build you a shelter, shoot you some lunch (with a bow he’d made himself) and cook it over the open fire while telling you all about the stars and tides. The sort of Dad who could make being marooned on a desert island seem like a lark.
I’ve got the inclination but not the skills. I can do the marooning but after that you’re on your own. For instance, it was entirely my fault that we were once washed up on an uninhabited Scottish island with nothing but a hospitality pack of bourbon biscuits and no hope of a boat till nightfall. Pastor Robinson would have knocked up a fish supper and organised a ceilidh. I spent the afternoon looking anxiously from my watch to the horizon and back again while the children played happily in the streams.
On another occasion, filled with the spirit of Swallows and Amazons, I took them all canoeing on a fast-flowing mountain river without actually knowing how to canoe. For half an hour we whirled over rapids at hair-raising speeds, heading towards who knows what cataracts and torrents. When we crashed into a bank, my entire family — without a word of discussion — abandoned ship, leaving me on my own with my paddle.
Then there was the torchless midnight ramble on top of the mountain which I suddenly — belatedly — remembered was riddled with unmarked mine shafts. The pastor would have made some kind of night-vision radar system out of heather and a captured bat. My own strategy was to go into meltdown and try to get everyone to stand completely still until morning. My son Joe kept his cool and led us to safety. He was nine at the time. I wish I could say this list was exhaustive. But I’ve left out anything that would trigger immediate prosecution.
The Dangerous Book for Boys could be just what I’m looking for. It could also be an exercise in camp and nostalgia. It’s stuffed with illustrations that look like those PG Tips collectors’ cards (“Moths of Sarawak” etc). It’s got a section on grammar and a list of “Poems Every Boy Should Know” which includes If and Invictus. If you recited those to your fellows while drifting hopelessly at sea, they would quite rightly eat you. (A boy needs to know Albert and the Lion and, as he gets older, a little something by John Cooper Clarke.)
I’m also suspicious of any book mentioning Tycho Brahe that doesn’t say he had a pet elk that met its death by falling downstairs when Tycho got it drunk. (What was it doing upstairs?)
So is it aimed more at fathers than boys? Is it sexist? (Charmingly my six-year-old daughter took the title to mean that it would be dangerous for boys to read it but perfectly safe for girls. She’s enjoying the stuff about insects.) More importantly, is it of any practical use? My 10-year-old son Benedict and I put it to the test.
Building a tree house
Frank says If there is a monument to my combination of romance and incompetence it is our “tree house” — a platform so rickety and rotten that squirrels won’t go on it. I’ve seen blackbirds looking nervous on it. So I was keen to redeem myself by making a proper tree house. The plans look great and very safe. They also involve 60 man-hours of work. This is not an activity, it is a second career. However the pictures are so inspirational and Benedict has become so obsessed with it, that I am going to build it. And thus redeem myself.
Benedict says We already had a sort of tree house but it’s not very safe. So I think it’s a good idea to build a new one. The one in the book looks very safe (unlike ours) and I definitely think we should build it, even though it takes 67ft of prime pine planking. That’s a bit of a tongue twister!
Making a bow and arrow
Frank says There are no short cuts in the chapter on making a bow and arrow. For instance, it suggests that you go and cut a piece of yew while it’s green and springy, then leave it to dry for a year. This is not going to happen. On the other hand, I like this “slow living” approach and the way that it encourages you to spend time doing things properly.
I love it that the list of “Things You Will Need” includes flint for the arrow heads. If you followed the instructions completely you would probably experience some sort of mystic one-ness with the bow. We took a few short cuts. But we still ended up with a bow that really worked, even though we haven’t finished the arrows yet. I was a bit disturbed by the suggestion of old tin cans as a possible source of arrow heads, though.
Benedict says I have made lots of bows and arrows before but none has been as good as this. Probably it’s because of the knot at the top and the bottom, which holds the string tight without letting it slip. It’s called a half hitch. I haven’t fletched arrows yet or put an arrow head on (mainly because I didn’t want to kill any of my brothers and sisters). It’s hard to get hold of the right feathers (goose).
Making a battery
Frank says There was a bit of shopping involved in this. You can’t buy blotting paper in post offices or corner shops any more. You have to go to a stationer’s. Benedict told me that we needed lead so we went to a plumber’s and then to a builder’s in search of some. It was only later that I discovered what we needed was not lead but a LED (light-emitting diode), which we got for 50p in a battery shop. They are utterly great. I can’t think why I haven’t bought loads of them before. The battery needs lots of vinegar and salt. It left the playroom smelling like Blackpool but it was exciting when it worked.
Benedict says The battery is made of a tower of coins attached to an LED. My Dad got mixed up and thought I said “lead” — like the metal — even though I explained that LED meant “light-emitting diode” a lot of times. It did work but only a bit. The diode glows brighter the more coins that you use.
Hunting and cooking a rabbit
Frank says This was the most frustrating bit. Our local park is overrun with rabbits. I quite like the idea of using them as a food source but the book suggests shooting them with a gun. I tried to explain to Benedict that ours are urban rabbits and that if we shot them with a gun, their cousins would come round in 4x4s and kneecap us while we were queueing outside the greengrocer’s but he was unconvinced. It’s to his credit that he took the positive step of trying to trap a few instead. And it’s probably down to his genetic inheritance that the trap didn’t work.
Benedict says I was quite excited about this, because we live near a big rabbit warren. My experience of hunting a rabbit though was disappointing because my Dad WOULD NOT BUY ME A GUN ! ! ! (this may be something to do with my Dad, not the book). I did try building a trap but it failed probably because it was my own idea, not the book’s.
The best paper plane in the world
Frank says This is where the book came into its own, for me. What I like about all the suggestions is that they have clearly tried them for themselves and if you follow the instructions they do work. They are the Delia Smiths of outdoor activities and this paper plane is their chocolate torte — unbelievably impressive and totally reliable. The moment that I chucked it and saw it soar off, float, dip and then skim along the grass for several yards, was as thrilling as the day I learnt to ride a bike. I did it again to prove that it wasn’t a fluke. Then again for fun and then again and again. I’ve always been rubbish at making paper planes. Now it’s my pièce de résistance.
Benedict says They show you how to make two different types of plane. The best one by far is the Harrier because it flies further, floats and glides. If you fold one of the back wings up, it comes back to you in a circle. This is probably one of the best activities in the book. You can spend up to an afternoon playing with the planes and they cost nothing — just a sheet of paper.
FATHER'S DAY TOP SIX
Conn and Hal Iggulden, authors of The Dangerous Book for Boys, select their favourite Father’s Day titles.
MY UNCLE OSWALD by Roald Dahl For dads only! For those who think Roald Dahl wrote only for children, this is funny, rude — and still the work of a master storyteller.
THE FLASHMAN BOOKS by George McDonald Fraser
The greatest anti-hero in fiction, with only three talents, two of which are riding. The best possible way to know your Victorians
REACH FOR THE SKY The Story of Douglas Bader by Paul Brickhill Nonfiction — the classic behind the Kenneth More film. An extraordinary life of courage and irreverence. Still an inspiration.
ROGUE MALE by Geoffrey Household
Hunting the most dangerous man alive. Simply the best escape and pursuit story yet written, with lip-chewing tension right to the end.
THE SHARPE BOOKS by Bernard Cornwell
Cracking, fast-paced stories from the master — and, in Sharpe, one of the best central characters you will find anywhere. The best is a matter of opinion, but for us, it’s Sharpe’s Trafalgar.
Finally, books to read with sons: Anything by Terry Pratchett. Every one is funny, sharp and interesting. Night Watch is the best, but start with Sorcery and just try to read it aloud with a straight face.
