Yelling and Shrieking

Outside in the Equiset garden at the rear of the Gallery, the heat struck me immediately and I when I spotted an empty chair under cover my pace quickened to claim this seat in the shade,  before some-one else spotted it. Once seated, I settled back with a cold drink and watched the kids having the time of their lives.  Much yelling and shrieking filled the air and not one of them seemed to notice the heat in the slightest.

The big attraction was the carwash. Not a proper carwash, with cars, water running over concrete and large piles of soapsuds, but a play area, modelled on a real carwash.  Five bays with a base of hot pink astro-turf and wide white markings invited kids to run and jump and generally have a lot of fun. Each bay, divided by cricket netting and above the play area, hang loops of pink plastic. In the next-door bay are wide straps, suspended from above, hanging down to a height where they can be grabbed, twisted or gathered together.

The fun starts here.

One girl, a little older than most of the children and sturdily built, set herself the difficult task of hauling herself as far up the strap as she can manage. The first couple of attempts failed but undeterred  she eventually pulled herself almost half way up the wide plastic strap.  Her height and sturdy build give her an advantage but with height and sturdiness comes weight, and this was her undoing. She slides down the strap, lets it go and stands grimacing, rubbing her hands together and looking very unhappy.  Wide, hard plastic strips are very unforgiving, hard to manage and cut into hands which are using them as a climbing aid.  The sturdy girl has learned this lesson the hard way. She disappeared into the crowd, still rubbing the palms of her hands to ease the pain.

And finishes here.

Among the tiny ones, the big draw was the bay which dispersed a thin mist of water, wonderfully cooling on a hot day.  Under the watchful eye of parents, they ran through the mist, squealing with delight.  No plastic burns for this lot, they clambered up the speed bumps, lost their balance and rolled down, still squealing. Damp clothes didn't lessen their enthusiasm and in such  heat their clothes would dry out in less time than it takes to tell.

My drink bottle is empty. I tossed it in the recycle bin, walked across the moat bridge, leaving the garden and the sound of happy kids having fun fading to silence, as the door to the gallery closed behind me.