When we were tiny, my sisters and I were taken to the park for picnics and to play at the playground. It had a simple roundabout, a row of swings and an old metal slide, we spent many fun hours there. As we grew up we were allowed to go to the park on our own and of course, we explored further.
The park was triangle in shape, the playground occupied one of the “points” and there was an open grassed area in another where I remember a bountiful amount of daisies for playing with. The third point had structured flowerbeds in it which were always full of colour whatever the time of year.
There were numerous different trees for climbing and one long hedge in particular where you could climb in at one end and wriggle your way almost to the other end before you had to climb back out again.
The centre of the park was taken up by a large, flat green, framed on one side by a red brick building and two other sides by the hedge. On the last side there was a row of neatly placed benches where you could sit and watch the games. This is where I had my first experience of the game of bowls.
We would watch the old men and ladies in their white clothes as they first rolled the little white ball from one end of the green to the other, then sit eagerly waiting for one of the big dark bowls to smash into it when we would jump up and down on the benches, cheering and clapping our hands in praise.
Little did we know at that time that the black bowls weren’t actually supposed to be hitting the small ball, just getting as near to it as they could.