Sundays aren't what they were

click photo to enlarge

Lazy Sunday afternoon,
I've got no mind to worry,
Close my eyes and drift away.
from Lazy Sunday Afternoon (1968) by the British band, the Small Faces

When, in my teens, I heard this popular song by the Small Faces, a single that reached number 2 in the UK charts and was a track on their early "concept"album, "Ogden's Nut Gone Flake", Sundays were very different from today.

In those increasingly remote times buying and selling on Sunday was illegal except for certain products and certain premises as detailed in the Shops Act 1950. This proscription on Sunday trading was of long standing, was sanctioned by the churches and the trade unions, and had the support of many of the public. It made Sunday a quiet day. Roads had fewer cars, pavements fewer people, the pace of the day was slower than that of the other six days. However, parks were busier, as were other places of leisure because, unable to spend their time buying, people gave more time to relaxation. Scenes such as the one in today's photograph were commonplace on Sundays, and though they are not unknown today, the parks are emptier and the pace of life of the weekend now almost matches that of the weekdays. Sundays past suited me and many others, but a large section of the population, especially those involved in retail, wanted Sundays to be a day when trading could take place. Many working people wanted it too because it gave them both of the weekend days on which they could do their shopping. Consequently, in 1994, the Sunday Trading Act came into force in England and Wales. This was something of a compromise in so far as shops could now trade, in the main, between the hours of 10.00am and 4.00pm and working on Sunday was optional for staff. These concessions were probably crucial in securing the support of the churches and the trade unions. It was a change that is unlikely to be overturned now that shopping has become the main leisure pastime. The "old" Sundays have gone for ever, something I regret, a point of view that puts me into yet another minority!

The sight of three generations of a family sauntering along the path of the riverside park in Hereford on a recent Sunday afternoon sent my mind back to those days, a time when the pace of life was less hurried, the "day of rest" was just that, was a lot quieter and there was time to sit and reflect, stand and stare, or "close my eyes and drift away", without the encouragement to go shopping being omnipresent.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 1250
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Walking The Walks

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"The Walks", a public park in King's Lynn, Norfolk, differs from most English town and city parks. Firstly, it was laid out in the eighteenth century as a single "promenade" or walk for citizens away from the hustle, bustle and grime of the busy town centre. Most of our parks were created from the mid-nineteenth century and later, as was the case with King's Lynn's other park, St James', which dates from 1902-3. Consequently, rather than a series of sinuous or circular routes through the park there is one dominant, axial thoroughfare to which other, later paths have been added. A record of 1714 describes a "handsome lime-planted walk put in the year before". This main path, shown in the photograph was described in 1773 in the following way: '"The new walk or mall, from the bars of the workhouse to Gannock-gates, is about 340 yards long and 11 yards wide between quick hedges; at convenient distances on each side of the walk a recess is left in the hedge in a semicircular form, where benches are fixed, on which twenty people may fit together. Upon a gentle ascent on the right is a plantation and a shrubbery'".

As you can see, the hedges and the recessed seating have gone, but it remains tree-lined, and punctuated by benches. The park also contains two features unusual in such a place. The Gannock Gate was originally a minor entrance to the walled town. What remains is something of a hotch-potch of a reconstruction, possibly with original materials, but it  acts as a useful focal point and eye-catcher on the main walk. Off to the side is a mound topped by a small but fascinating medieval pilgrimage building - Red Mount Chapel (the subject of a post to come). These features, along with the place's early origins and subsequent Victorian additions, led to The Walks being designated a Grade II historic park in 1998.

I visited The Walks on an unseasonally hot April day, and the sight that I saw reminded me of how the park must have looked in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries when there were fewer forms of leisure available, and a public promenade in the park was seen as a fine way to spend a morning or afternoon. At the point I took this photograph there were relatively few people, but elsewhere The Walks teemed with adults and children soaking up the sunshine, playing soccer, sitting and chatting, eating ice creams and generally having a good time.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 81mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/80
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Mazes, trampolines and play

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A few years ago I was using Google Maps to look at a city that I know quite well when I became aware that many of the back gardens in suburban neighbourhoods featured large blue circles of varying sizes. It took me a moment to realise that they were outdoor trampolines. The number of these pieces of play equipment staggered me, and I looked at a few other towns and cities to see whether this was a local or a national phenomenon. Sure enough, wherever I looked, there they were. It seemed to me a testament to the pester-power of children that so many parents had bought one of these trampolines, particularly since they are known to be a prime cause of broken bones, but more especially because they are also recognised to be something that children quickly tire of. Perhaps they are bought by parents who envisage the exercise they induce being an antidote to the increasing childhood obesity!

However, the sight of so many of these trampolines caused me to reflect further on the deeper reasons why parents fill their gardens with swings, play houses, wooden towers, slides, etc. Clearly it's most obviously a physical expression of affection. It's also, unfortunately, partly due to the guilty feelings they have for not giving enough time to their children due to the long hours they work. There's clearly, too, an element of "keeping up with the Joneses", or at least the Jones's children. Then there's the fear of letting children play unsupervised in the street, the immediate neighbourhood or the local park. I've long been concerned about the retreat from public spaces, and the valuing of private property over that owned by the community.

Two thoughts follow from my reflection on garden play equipment. Firstly, children get much more play value and satisfaction from a pile of wooden beams and flat panels than they do from any ready-made equipment supplied by a manufacturer. A home-made kit of this sort, with a few pieces of rope and large nuts and bolts can be made into whatever the child can imagine. And secondly, using the public park rather than the small, inferior one that parents provide offers more than simply exercise: it gives the child social interaction and responsibilty. It also gives them the chance to experience a maze of the sort shown in today's photograph. Of itself this hasn't a great deal of play value. But, there are other pieces of equipment nearby to sample too. And there are other parks elsewhere to try. Much more fun, I think, than being cooped up in the back garden with a circular blue trampoline.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen


Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.2
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A sign of the times?

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I don't know about you, but I thought it was deep water that was dangerous. At least I've seen plenty of signs around canals, rivers, reservoirs, lakes, etc., that warn me about it, so it seemed a reasonable conclusion. However, when I was walking in Williamson Park, Lancaster, I came across this sign, and the only conclusion I can draw from it is that if shallow water is dangerous too, then surely all water must be dangerous. Perhaps the sign makers could save time and money by simply printing "Danger, Water!"

Of course, if they did that they'd need to put the signs on taps, baths, water coolers and swimming pools. People would need to be employed to place portable signs next to puddles after rain, and to remove them when the water evaporated. And if we conceded this principle then all those "Danger, High Voltage" signs on electrical equipment would need to be complemented by "Danger, Low Voltage" on batteries, or would it just be "Danger, Voltage"? Maybe balloons would have warnings analagous to those on plastic bags, but instead of saying "Danger of suffocation!" they'd say "Danger , Low Voltage if Rubbed on a Jumper!" And, thinking about it, I suppose the plastic bags that have holes punched in them to prevent suffocation would need marking with "Danger, You might get a bit out of breath and damp from condensation if you put this over your head!" Or not.

I came across this photograph when I was transferring backed-up images to my new hard drive. I took it a couple of years ago. Looking at it the other day I thought it perfectly encapsulated our risk averse, litigation conscious, accidents-don't-exist-anymore, it's-always-someone-else's-fault culture. The organisation that had the sign erected was clearly covering its back, fearing that if someone dived into the shallow water (an ornamental pond) and hurt themselves they'd have vulture-lawyers working on a no-win-no-fee basis to recover damages for their "negligence" in not warning about the depth of the water. It's literally and metaphorically a "sign of the times" in which we live.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E500
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm (90mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On