The other evening I read a version of Oscar Wilde’s ‘The Selfish Giant’ to my two boys who are four and six. At the end I was asked “why would someone want to stop children playing?” Being aware that important questions need important answers I was careful not to provide too simple a response, “perhaps at the beginning of the story the Giant wasn’t very happy and because of that he didn’t like to see other people being happy”. This seemed to do the trick, at least partially, and the conversation then briefly explored the differences between sad and happy stories and sad and happy endings.
The experience and experimentation that play gives us is essential (sometimes the seriousness of supposedly grown up things encourages us to forget this.) Not only is it vital to do, it is essential for communities to see and hear play, to witness it happening, in all sorts of forms and shapes. This is why we have play areas, and benches by play areas. Play must not be too prescribed or too specific, but the places where it happens need to be safe and structured, and available so that rambling about at random can happen in unplanned abandon. These places are better yet when they are laced with variety.
We are very lucky here in Bournemouth, the fresh tranquillity and bluster of our fine sea beaches provide safe clean arenas of fun. In addition we are blessed with many super parks, well kept shared public places. Seafield Gardens is a fine example and because of this is rarely empty. I often take the boys there, a football can be kicked and in addition to the hardy perennials of see saw and swings, a zip wire can be zipped. In the summer you can watch bowls and lick a cone of very nice ice cream. We sometimes take tennis racquets and a handful of second hand balls. Wasn’t this summer great? The first British winner since 1977. Our two budding Murrays though, liked a gentle knock around before Wimbledon. They are getting to enjoy it more and more, actually, the older one is developing something of a backhand I think. The slow gradual development of skill and enthusiasm is a joy to witness, as is the occasional nod and comment of encouragement, from passersby and dog walkers. We took some friends there once, visitors from overseas, who marvelled at the choice and provision of the space.
Autumn has come, and it’s a bit chilly out on court now, we went there the other evening, the cool air and tumbling leaves not dampening a jot the hits and misses. As we left I spied a sign clipped to the wire fence, it may have been there a while, but only drew my attention as we left. It stated that a lock would soon appear on the gate. We will no longer be able to pop in if there is space (which more often there is.) We will now have to register, and plan and pay for our play, all of this with no visible change to the facility. A cynic somewhere has clearly made calculations based on this summer’s success. What blind greed this is. Obviously unseen are the myriad benefits of open access. It’s not just about having to wait another twenty six years for a champion, it’s about encouraging fresh air, variety, activity and participation. How can these be locked away with a clear conscience? Constantly we hear the moan and groan that children are not playing outside enough and the complaint that we spend too much time gazing unfulfilled at screens frequently follows. Parks with games areas are the original social networks. Some spreadsheet fixated opportunist has just eroded an incentive, to get out there, get healthy, and get playing. ” Great we like tennis now, the kids are rushing out to have a go”……..”so let’s squash spontaneity with a padlock”. What kind of message does this send in a public place? Greed usurps aspiration, six love! I only hope we don’t do well in walking events, because some bright spark will find a way to tag and charge our steps.
As we strolled away Wilde’s wit and perpetual time spanning wisdom sprang to my mind. Somebody somewhere “knows the cost of everything and the value of nothing.” There is a selfish giant somewhere that needs to be brought down to size.
Jon Nicholas
