B's dad and I grew up in the same town, although we didn't know each other back then. It’s not too far away, only an hour or so from where we live now, and B's gran and papa (his dad's parents) and his other papa (my dad) and Auntie Angela both still live there. For one reason or another, I’ve not managed through more than a couple of times since
Christmas (although B has been through more often with his dad), so I made a concerted effort to pay a visit this weekend past.
After
the wet, cold and windy weather we’ve had the last few weeks, it was a welcome
sight to see the sun peaking through and a trip to the local park was a-calling. The park is a few minutes’ walk away from where I grew up. I’ve
been back to visit occasionally over the years, and it always evokes strong
feelings of nostalgia and more innocent, uncomplicated times.
There have been some big changes to the park over the years.
The play-park area is now transformed into a modern play-park with zip-wire,
boat-shaped climbing frames, bendy/curvy slides, swings of all shapes, catering
from the tiny tot up to the older kids. Back in my day, we loved the play-park.
It was probably basic by today’s standards -
a few toddler and older swings, two roundabouts, a metal
climbing ball-frame, and a double-chute. But we spent hours and hours there. It’s where I learned to swing by myself, where I worked out how high I
could swing before the chains started shaking, realised how long I could last
on the roundabout before I felt sick. And it’s where we would hang out as older
kids, listening to our brand new ghetto-blaster (this was the 80s, afterall!).
The Animal Corner had changed, too. There used to be two peacocks who would strut and call out, louder than any of us could ever manage, no matter how hard we tried. Alongside them, there were a pair of sorry-looking foxes that used to pace back and forth in their enclosure, their pungent smell penetrating out beyond the little zoo. I can still recognise that smell nowadays, and it transports me immediately back to that park. The foxes have long gone, thankfully, in their place interactive, indoor cages with insects, spiders, etc. But the peacocks are still there, their impressive cry ringing out, reminding me I'm home.
When I was B's age and older, the park's pond was the hub of
activity both on and around it. The swans and ducks once fought for space with
kids and adults in pedal-boats. Many hours were spent lying on the ground at
the edge of the pond, dangling our brightly coloured fishing nets in, hunting
for tadpoles. Now, the pedalos are long-gone, sadly, given up because of cost
or vandalism or some other reason. It doesn’t matter, really. The swans are
still there, though, and I bet in the summertime there are little kids
searching for tadpoles, jumping up excitedly when they find one.
Even nondescript areas of grass brought back a strong
nostalgic feeling this weekend, reminding me of long hot summer days * playing
football, penalty shoot-outs. We really did use jumpers for goalposts.
(*I wondering if my memories are playing rose-tinted tricks
on me, after all we’re talking about summer in Scotland. I’m not sure if many
days could have been described as “long, hot”... then again, when you’re a kid,
the weather is no obstacle!)
And a small door underneath the golf clubhouse
building within the park still made the hairs on my neck stand up, taking me back to dusky evenings when
we should have been out of the park, peaking at this eery little door and wondering what
witches or goblins lived inside. I showed B where the witches used to live. He
wasn’t quite sure, but didn’t want to hang about to find out.
