Meadow Playground

“This playground exemplifies the highs of my childhood: what I wouldn’t have given and still wouldn’t part with to be able to live there, bang in the middle amongst screaming youngsters - no kidding. Edinburgh - the city we dared venture into for leisure solely on Sundays, thanks to the free off-road parking on that 1/7 of the week. After the same old (relatively BORING) trek through the Royal Botanical Gardens (which I do now sorely miss), some chow-time and **diplomatic** one-way parking dodgems, we’d make it to a parking slot somewhere somewhat in the urban vicinity of this splendid playground. As a starter, to whet the appetite I suppose - I clambered onto the (then) high seat of a swing; first, as a toddler, in the barred basket before progressing onto the more simplistic and daunting “big children’s” swing. Flying, I thought, was what I was doing, every Sunday without fail…in the mind of some five year old screecher. In those moments, “higher” was my only demand, forgetting the allure of ice cream. A mob of impatient, jealous, wailing waddlers would surround the swing, thinking ‘surely that grinning idiot’s turn on the swing’s long over by now.’ So like the progression of a multi-course meal, I would progress onto the next attraction: the foot-pedalling-powered-roundabout. As an introverted and only child, this was my strong shot of suspicious socialisation for the week as it relied on the power of not just one, but many short-legged infantile creatures. Teamwork and persistence were the key values to making this thing whirl around for yonks, much to the entertainment/envy of even adult onlookers. When my companions tired of cyclical sitting and stomping, I advanced to the Bigger Kids climbing frame section. I call it a “climbing frame” for lack of better words but please understand this as a vague, retrospectively hazed attempt at describing the scariest thing in my life at that time. Falling was never an option - sure, the spongey ground surface was forgiving physically but not to my pride. I learned to hold on and keep ascending through fear. I rarely fell. There were some more attractions of varying Big Kid suitability that I later wandered towards but none of them ever captured my heart quite so much as these three and my habitual dessert: the zip wire. No, it wasn’t very long; yes, it was singular for use by multitudes of nearby residents and tourists and vagabonds alike; yes, it sat stark in the middle of arguably one of the world’s most beautiful but functional cities. It was another chance at flying. Only daredevils didn’t hold on, in my tiny mind. I always started the waterworks whenever there was any subtle gesture of departure. Go home? But *this*, right *here* is my home. It still is, in the recesses of disintegrating neural pathways.”

“Big wonderful playground! Fenced off Coffee shop! I didn’t see bathrooms but I may have missed them. Hidden tunnel to the north in the trees to enter too!”

“This place has awesome stuff for your kids to Play on that I've never even seen before! My favorites were the zipline and the giant sand box area.”