Light Relief



After yesterday's (very wet) excitement of the passing of the Olympic Torch through our soggy Garden City, today brought the relief of a day off work having my van serviced.  Not that a service should take all day, but there's also the annoying matter of the illumination of the engine management light, which I understand (I don't really understand it, of course) is caused by a malfunctioning exhaust gas recycling valve.  Once they can find this recalcitrant component, buried as it is deep within the engine, they will hopefully cure this problem too.  So, workwise, I have written today off.

I walked into town after leaving the van at the garage, and after discharging the errands I intended, couldn't resist the temptation of David's 50p sale.  By then, laden with shopping and books, and the coat I hadn't required because there was no rain this morning after all, I rather needed a rest.  I turned a corner to go home by a slightly different route than the one I'd come and, as if by magic, I discovered that my way lay through a brand-new 'Sensory Garden'.  I was more than glad to sit awhile and drink in the scenery (once I'd avoided the ubiquitous dog-mess - why are people so inconsiderate?)

This part of the town has long been ear-marked for redevelopment, and the work seems to be carried out piecemeal as the premises become vacant.  At the time there is clutter and disfigurement, and the sadness of perfectly good shops standing empty and then being removed, but I have to say that the end result gave me a whiff of hope this morning.  I'm even prepared, in the interest of present and future generations, to forgive the removal rather than restoration of some of the oldest parts of the Garden City.
Yes, there are still scruffy backways beyond the fence, but at least there's a bright picture on one of the bare walls, and the spacious lawn and skillfully chosen plants, the seats and the surrounding walkways provide a welcome 'lung' in the centre of the town.  And opposite is a safe, modern and well-equipped play area for young children, well within the custodial eye of a parent taking welcome relief in the garden.

I wondered who would be cutting the lawn.  Will it be a noisy modern machine leaving the clippings strewn about, to be blown everywhere by a passing breeze?  Or might an active pensioner be engaged to pay an occasional visit with a mower, carefully clearing up behind him as he might in his own garden? 

www.georgeplunkett.co.uk

And as I now reflect upon this relaxing experience, my mind drifts back to the late 1960s, when I worked in the centre of Norwich.  On sunny summer days I would take my lunch to the James Stuart Garden, tucked way at the junction of Recorder Road and St Faith's Lane.  Of a totally different nature, this was part of an estate that included commemorative almshouses.  The houses were built in 1915, and the ornamental gateway to the garden added in 1922; the garden was open to the public.  Perhaps because of being enclosed, this too I found to be a refreshing green space in the midst of the city centre.

Now, after this reverie, what was I going to do this morning?