The blur of Parklife

We have a large picture window which faces north with a view into the large public open space of an inner city park.

It is a busy place set between two of the main arterial roads that run along a north to south axis from the central city area.

There is housing on three sides from the inaugural 1863 built villas to our block of three storey town houses which was built in the late 1970's following demolition of a convent.

The park is ringed by a tarmac road which at 0.7 miles long and with no through traffic is a very popular route for joggers and runners. They can be seen passing on regular laps but definitely working on an easy multiple to gross up the distance say over 10 circuits, less or more. It can be a hazardous activity in that the park is criss-crossed by pathways which form a cut through for cyclists either commuting to work or just out for a leisurely ride.

The former category are usually mobile in the murky light just before dawn, without lights but donning a high viz jacket and chunky oversized workboots on their way to an industrial estate or even on their way back from an arduous nightshift. The latter are as brightly clad in lycra and on some sort of mission based on their fixation with a GPS system mounted on their handlebars.

At some point a runner and a cyclist will have a near miss but no words of blame or frustration are uttered because they have a mutual determination to achieve their own goals for that day.

An elderly couple are regular visitors to the edge of the rose garden opposite our window to do their daily Tai-Chi exercises. We have benefitted from their routine in that we can follow their graceful movements from the warmth and comfort of our own living room. I have on many saturday mornings had a complete workout just by following their routine closely. I did fall over once upsetting the smaller of the ornamental tables but the noise and my cries of pain thankfully went unnoticed. I should really take up a proper class as the pair look lithe and slim from a dedication to the discipline.

It has been conker season in recent weeks and the horse chestnut trees have taken a bit of a hammering from the sticks thrown up into their heavy leafed boughs in order to dislodge a sole spiny shell and the promise of a deep mahogany-red prize.

In fact, under the slightest breeze we can hear the regular sound of shells bouncing up from the road or after hitting a car parked on the verge. By the end of the week the tarmac is cloaked in a fine residue of conkers which have been pounded and ground into the surface giving it a powdery, yellow appearance.

I am an early riser if provisions are needed from the local Tesco on the main road which is reached through a narrow snicket from the eastern side of the park.  I dodge the fallen wheelie bins, rolling beer cans and pizza boxes which indicate a good level of pedestrian use overnight.

There are a few poor souls who number the benches in the park as one of their places to sleep if the hostel is full or they feel insecure and unable to cope with a crowd. They may find it difficult to get any rest or respite when an all night party erupts into being somewhere out of sight of our window vantage point. The eastern european contingent who live in some numbers in the streets surrounding the park like a good all-nighter and on a regular basis in the balmier summer months.

The onset of autumn has seen a thinning out of the foliage and we again have a clear view of the statue of a young Queen Victoria which was erected by public subscription in the early 1860's. She gazes out over what had been her domain. I often wonder what she would have made of the sights and sounds of the 21st Century.

The outlook is constantly changing from our window and it is a delight to just sit and watch the world go by.