Playground

The Playground At Night: lamplit, with a little help from the clouded moon. Reminds me of that ghost story by M.R. James, After Dark In The Playing Fields. And I did encounter a kind of MRJ incident in this local park one winter evening not long ago.

I was walking the dog along the longest unlit stretch bordering the grass. I could see the playground ahead, much as it looks in the picture above, except that I was approaching it from the left side rather than directly across the grass. I made out a creaking noise, one of the chain swings. Then I noticed that there was a figure, a small boy it looked like, swinging quite fast and, it seemed, almost mechanically, a human pendulum. Odd that the child was alone in the playground at this latish hour, swinging there by himself in utter silence (apart from the creaking). I stopped for a moment, then continued. It helped that I had the dog with me. The figure kept swinging, as if, once set in motion, it might as well keep at it till kingdom come. As I came closer I made out another figure, also silent, watching. A taller figure. Ah, a parent. And suddenly I had stepped from The Twilight Zone into that of the everyday urban pedestrian.

This evening I was the taller figure. The wean wanted to take the dog for a walk before tea and, as he usually hates going for walks, I agreed. I decided to bring the camera and take a few night shots while he tore around the field with the excited JR, Lola. It was hard to get him to come home, especially as there was unfinished homework waiting. We ended up in the playground. You can just about make him out in the playhouse on stilts, if you know where to look.