Talking of Haggerston Park, you'll be pleased to know nothing much has changed. The city farm still lends the air a comforting mucky scent as you cycle past; the Astroturf is in use by the schools across the road and the other day I saw a middle aged man jolting round the BMX track on a rickety old racing bike - his son strapped into a safety seat on the back.
Every park in East London still seems to have a crew of dossers who congregate around a single bench. This morning I passed three such groups, the first in Ion Square Gardens. The Ion Square Gardens group seem to be the saddest in all three parks; this morning I saw a man who'd clearly been sleeping rough sitting on the bench with two sports bags, as though he had been kicked out. Not last night – a while ago. Ion Square also has the most spooky types. There is a distinctly druggy vibe not noticeable in the other two parks. Late at night there'll be a solitary figure standing in the orange street light glow in the middle of the square. People make hurried visits along the paths to meet him. He seems to represent the square’s centre point and its extremity – the magnetic north. There's also a strange sectioned off corner of the square, which I am wary of – it is too quiet a spot. Perhaps what I imagine happens there is much worse than the reality- but I never go in that corner, although the council has recently landscaped it. Perhaps the people in Ion Square are influenced by the place... Ion Square is by far the bleakest park. It’s really nothing more than a sloping patch of grass with straight paths, burnt out bins and shitting terriers.
Next, there's the Haggerston Park crowd, who hang out with the dragonflys around the nature pond. Sometimes they appear to be having an idyllic picnic amongst the wildflowers, like hippies. Once I went past and a red faced man waved and called me to come and join in. They were carousing and dancing round the pond. On a sunny Saturday it looked like fun - pretty much the same as what we were intending to do outside the pub on Broadway Market. This morning there were a man and a woman unpacking their first carrier bag of beer in bright sunlight. The pond was surrounded by long grass and it was quiet. To be up so early, and in place, ready to drink, made me think maybe one of them had had a horrible night or big row and needed comforting. Or maybe it was a regular routine that they arrived punctually for, like a job.
London Fields has a marginally more merry band of dossers - smarter clothes and no sports bags of belongings. They were also in place when I cycled past at 8.30 this morning, on their usual bench next to the disused paddling pool. They seemed quite cheerful and smiled at me, except one who was being plagued by a wasp. Here there are a number of shaggy dogs that sit by the bench panting patiently all day. The bench is ideal for spectatorship – it not only looks over the cricket field but also has the social aspect of being near the entrance gate, so everyone coming in and out can be seen going past… and commented on I suppose. The Cat and Mutton, on the other side of the park, is in a similarly good spot for people watching.
I can't decide whether it is wholly sad that people get up bright and early to get their first drink, or whether there is an inviting element in it too. It seems like there is companionship on the benches that could be nice - comforting. And perhaps there is some kind of admirable rebellion in taking life at such a different pace. Sitting on a sunny bench with your cronies, drinking beer and watching the world go by definitely has its attractions. Lots of people do it at the weekend. And in Croatia, most of the men over 45 seemed to spend their days doing exactly that, as though it was an expected and natural part of their retirement. But I suppose, wherever you are, there’s only a few people who drink before 9 in the morning and maybe they would rather they didn’t.
Every park in East London still seems to have a crew of dossers who congregate around a single bench. This morning I passed three such groups, the first in Ion Square Gardens. The Ion Square Gardens group seem to be the saddest in all three parks; this morning I saw a man who'd clearly been sleeping rough sitting on the bench with two sports bags, as though he had been kicked out. Not last night – a while ago. Ion Square also has the most spooky types. There is a distinctly druggy vibe not noticeable in the other two parks. Late at night there'll be a solitary figure standing in the orange street light glow in the middle of the square. People make hurried visits along the paths to meet him. He seems to represent the square’s centre point and its extremity – the magnetic north. There's also a strange sectioned off corner of the square, which I am wary of – it is too quiet a spot. Perhaps what I imagine happens there is much worse than the reality- but I never go in that corner, although the council has recently landscaped it. Perhaps the people in Ion Square are influenced by the place... Ion Square is by far the bleakest park. It’s really nothing more than a sloping patch of grass with straight paths, burnt out bins and shitting terriers.
Next, there's the Haggerston Park crowd, who hang out with the dragonflys around the nature pond. Sometimes they appear to be having an idyllic picnic amongst the wildflowers, like hippies. Once I went past and a red faced man waved and called me to come and join in. They were carousing and dancing round the pond. On a sunny Saturday it looked like fun - pretty much the same as what we were intending to do outside the pub on Broadway Market. This morning there were a man and a woman unpacking their first carrier bag of beer in bright sunlight. The pond was surrounded by long grass and it was quiet. To be up so early, and in place, ready to drink, made me think maybe one of them had had a horrible night or big row and needed comforting. Or maybe it was a regular routine that they arrived punctually for, like a job.
London Fields has a marginally more merry band of dossers - smarter clothes and no sports bags of belongings. They were also in place when I cycled past at 8.30 this morning, on their usual bench next to the disused paddling pool. They seemed quite cheerful and smiled at me, except one who was being plagued by a wasp. Here there are a number of shaggy dogs that sit by the bench panting patiently all day. The bench is ideal for spectatorship – it not only looks over the cricket field but also has the social aspect of being near the entrance gate, so everyone coming in and out can be seen going past… and commented on I suppose. The Cat and Mutton, on the other side of the park, is in a similarly good spot for people watching.
I can't decide whether it is wholly sad that people get up bright and early to get their first drink, or whether there is an inviting element in it too. It seems like there is companionship on the benches that could be nice - comforting. And perhaps there is some kind of admirable rebellion in taking life at such a different pace. Sitting on a sunny bench with your cronies, drinking beer and watching the world go by definitely has its attractions. Lots of people do it at the weekend. And in Croatia, most of the men over 45 seemed to spend their days doing exactly that, as though it was an expected and natural part of their retirement. But I suppose, wherever you are, there’s only a few people who drink before 9 in the morning and maybe they would rather they didn’t.
