Right here, on top of a rubbish tip, I started my first paid job after college. A slab of clay slapped over a landfill site constituted much of the land that was rebirthed as Priory Country Park. There was no longer a priory, it was hardly in the country, and for those first arrivals in the newly grassed ground planted with a scatter of whips, it wasn’t much of a park. Our visitor centre offices even had methane counters to remind us of the toxic stew below our desks. But the visionaries who created it knew that they would eventually get more buds for their bucks.
Years have softened away the starkness into bushy groves, and hidden behind those little trees is an adventure playground. The visitor centre that had no visitors now hums with coffee and a cafe culture that extends on to a decking veranda almost as far as the lake shore. On this sunny day, the deck is full of chatter to its cappuccino brim.
