Twas a Sunday morning on April 6th 2008…
Unusual as laying snow may be in April, we had a good few inches in a very brief period of time that morning. I took the opportunity to take the short walk to Queens Park and take a few snaps.
The park was brimming with life around mid-morning, like an unexpected opportunity of mad revolution against the usual Sunday chores. Adults seemingly enjoying the park as much as their excited youngsters.
As I took in the shivering scenery, and walked through the rockery, I felt a snowball come thudding into my back. I turned and saw a young teenager with a broad grin upon his face. “You can stop that right now” I bellowed with the gusto of an apprentice to the onset of middle age. The boy looked suitably scolded whilst trying to show his sadness at my parental bluster. “Ohhhhhh” he protested. I turned feeling like Victor Meldrew had nothing on me.
I went to work that afternoon and finished at 7pm. The pensive walk to North Road was replaced by a most able stride home. The rising spring temperature had melted all but the light roof top blankets.
My kind of snow.
A place to never tire of. My Great Grandfather was one of two keepers employed when the park first opened to the public in 1891, and every member of the family has enjoyed it since.
From various vantage points…
In case we can’t remember…
The park through the seasons 2008-2013..
I always take the seaside at Brighton for granted, as if it’s for the tourists only. More fool me.