With my memories behind me, I walked through the park gate a grown woman, a mother of two no less, who would have thought that some fifteen years ago? A time where things were simpler and my only worry was to hide in the bushes if I saw a nosy neighbor out for a morning stroll. Inhaling the familiar smells set off a magnitude of forgotten feelings, I felt like a teenager again, I could smell the freshly cut grass, the delicate small flowers that lined the lake and the strongest of all, the knowing weed stench that floated amongst the smell of greasy chips from the corner shop. Nothing had changed, from here it all looked the same right down to the over 7’s play area and tennis courts beyond. I walked on watching my children scamper down the winding path. It was only then I noticed the cracked surface under my feet, the missing chucks of concrete from the side of the path that had been long neglected. The swings, once vibrant seemed faded and dirty, paint peeling of the slide that had sprained my ankle when I had fallen off all those years ago. 
As the children veered off the path towards the lake, I followed taking in the dull murky brown liquid that once had been the park’s focal point, gone was the bluey green water that had once teemed with life, now it bobbed with sweet wrappers and take away containers that threatened the few remaining ducks nibbling at them in search of food. Steering my family towards the play area I longed to find something familiar and comforting about the park that had once brought me so much joy. The perimeter of the toddlers play area was hidden from view by a colourful array of people sitting with buggies and prams and the latest bikes and scooters. This was new, in my day hardly anyone sat in large groups and the scene before me reminded me of a village where people gathered for a town meeting. Inside the play area were hoards of screaming children all jostling for space on the four swings that were already overflowing at double the capacity. I looked around for the accompanying parents but found none, the children had been left to fend for themselves. I took a closer look at these scruffy children, most looked as if they had been dressed in the dark, others ran around with dirty faces and snot running freely from red noses. A few older children kicked a football around and I watched as it dangerously missed a toddler’s head, still I saw no adult monitoring or stepping in to intervene, even the ‘NO BALL GAMES’ sign at the gate failed to be noticed. Fairly soon a fight broke out and I rushed to protect my child from the five year old who had pushed a group of toddlers off the equipment, still no adult materialised. Grabbing my children I decided to leave before the police were called and I got arrested for assault on a minor or their parent whoever was the closest, at that point I didn’t care. As the fight continued, we left the play area and no sooner had the gate clanged shut behind us, a wad of spit landed a few feet in front of me. Shooting a dirty look at the group of ladies sprawled on the ground I wasn’t surprised to see that they were gypsies, ladies who wore long skirts and had their hair slicked back into a tight bun. Surrounding these ladies were piles of paper plates, used cups and packets of crisps. On closer inspection it seemed that this group had no care in the world, forgetting their children while they chatted on their Blackberrys and iPhones. A few ladies even had their iPads out entertaining themselves as they fed their babies who were secured in a Quinnyzip or Phil and Ted’s spanking new pram. As I returned home I felt a surge of regret for the park that had been lost to time. Not only had the innocent children stopped visiting, but families who wanted a place to relax didn’t have that space anymore. The people who visited now treated the park like a dumpsite, not using the bins available and not monitoring their children as they harassed others. I for one would much rather use the car to travel further away to a park which was still untouched by the new generation of immigrants who still had a lot to learn. Have you had a similar experience? What’s your story, feel free to share below.
