Less Lonely with… parks
As lockdown Britain has allowed us one form of daily outdoor exercise, parks have been the only place to legitimately see other people, even if only for fleeting moments. Writer Zita Adamson shares why parks are so important for human contact and how these green spaces have been instrumental in building connection, both pre, during and post-COVID.
Why do you love parks?
I’ve always loved parks — so much so that when I go somewhere new, I tend to search out its parks. A few years ago, I went to Beirut to do some research for a novel I was writing. I had a map of the city and scoured it, searching for a park to visit. I could find only one and it was some distance away. Nevertheless, I dragged my long-suffering husband there. In many ways, it was a disappointment — small, as parks go, with lots of gravel paths and pigeons. Even so, I still remember it — mostly because of the evident enjoyment on the faces of those that were there, all out in the fresh air in a communal space.
Because that’s the thing about parks. Not only are they the green lungs of our cities, an oasis of calm and tranquillity amid the noise, pollution and congestion of modern urban life (I’m talking pre-lockdown here!) but they’re also open to all. You don’t need money, or a ticket or a particular social background or education to enter a park. Anyone can stroll in…and they do! Where else can you find pram-pushing dads, dog-walking pensioners, lollipop-stained kids and a great big sprawling group of teenagers all in the same space — and all having a great time too?
Is there a particular park that is special to you?
Yes, we live opposite St Andrews Park in Bristol. This is a classic Victorian neighbourhood park surrounded by houses. It’s smallish — only about 11 acres — but it’s got a very distinctive character, partly because it’s on a slope, partly because of the diversity of trees including several European black pines, and partly because it’s the beating hub (sometimes literally when someone decides to practise their drumming skills al fresco!) of the local area. It’s also one of the most popular parks in Bristol and attracts visitors from all over the city to picnic, barbecue, jog, juggle, read, sunbathe, make music, play football, splash around in the paddling pool or just chill out.
My husband and I are both writers and after breakfast, we always do a mini commute of one lap of the park before we return home and climb the stairs to our respective studies. It’s a great way to start the working day.
What is it about parks that build connections?
Parks bring people from all walks of life together. Fellow dog-walkers stop for a chat. Mums and Dads make friends while watching their kids on the swings. People stop to watch tightrope walkers…and then get talking. Others sit down to listen to the young woman with a guitar vying with a blackbird to see who can sing loudest. Conversations follow.
When you visit a park often you get to know other frequent users, first by face, then, gradually by name. But you also connect with people you don’t know. On our mini commutes, my husband and I will always interact with at least one other person, often someone we’ve never met before. This morning, for example, we interacted with the young mum standing under the bird cherry tree, which is currently in full, heavily fragranced bloom. All these micro-social exchanges build community and a sense of belonging. And that’s really important, particularly for those who maybe feel they don’t belong — older retired people living on their own without family living nearby, single parents who’ve moved to the area and don’t know anyone apart from their sister (this was me a while back), homeless people who don’t have work or home to help them feel part of society.
Do parks need a focal point to promote these connections?
Yes, ideally parks need a focal point that makes it easy for people to connect with one another. Ours is a lovely tea garden run by a well-known local woman called Faye. She runs it in a converted trailer, rolling up each morning in her yellow VW van, unloading tables and chairs and packing everything away again every evening.
There are only six tables so often people have to share, and this facilitates conversations between strangers. For many people, the café is part of their daily routine, perhaps the only time in the day when they will talk to another human being.
What’s been your experience of parks in lockdown?
Other than food shops, parks are virtually the only place where you can legitimately still see other people, even if only fleetingly and in passing, as you each take your daily exercise. In lockdown Britain, they’ve also been one of the very few places (at least in cities) where you can still see people enjoying themselves — families doing silly exercises like running backwards, toddlers rolling down slopes, dog-walkers standing briefly in huge circles to swap news and ask if everyone’s OK. In Covid-19 times, we are all hungry for human contact and parks offer it, albeit in diminished form. Often, when I look back on a day, it is these tiny moments of contact — a neighbour waved to from a distance, the familiar face of the dog walker we call Mr Candy, a smile exchanged with the mother of a just-walking toddler — that stand out like stars in the darkness of physical distancing. I’ve never been more aware that we human beings are a social animal.
If you had a magic wand, what one thing would you change about our cities to make them less lonely?
I would create micro parks in every neighbourhood. It doesn’t take much land to do this — all you need is a small play area for children, trees, a few benches, one or two flowerbeds. Cities like Paris have micro parks like this in abundance, tucked away in dense residential areas. And they’re so much the richer for it.
