Unspoiled

A archetype of a municipal park. Two scruffy ducks paddling in turbid water, an overgrown, undermaintained flowering shrub, water plants (water buttercup?) that don't look unattractive here but, across most of the rest of the pond, were over-numerous, over-aggressive and damaging any balance in the ecosystem - a pretty clear signal that the water is over-stocked with nutrients from urban runoff or sewerage overspill

It is in Sheffield's largest public park - 87 hectares gifted by a grateful former alderman. A crowded children's playground echoing with screams and laughter; a small "Animal Farm" - what the benefactor might have called a 'menagerie'; a cafe that is still 'under repair' five years after I first visited it; a 'train' to take children on a circuit of the pond; an ice cream van

It's as old fashioned as Camp coffee and a '99', and it shows some threadbare signs of lack of cash. But it was filled with young couples in love, old people with various aids to mobility, children excited by green space, goodwill and easy smiles - just as the originators intended. I can't help but make the contrast with the carefully curated aristocratic 'parkland' we saw a couple of days ago. 'Park', like 'estate' is one of those words that can only be understood in context

We were granted the privilege of being entrusted with the care of our grandson for the afternoon. We played, we ate, we walked (he rode) to the park and he slept as we walked around it. When he woke, he loved watching the busy-ness, activity and other people's games. It is as far as could be imagined from the digital-dominated future that we seem to be bequeathing our children. I don't pretend it's going to last but, for the moment, it felt like something high-value