MUNICIPAL PARK Triangular park railed between converging lanes of heavy traffic. Endless families alight on green benches and parched grass, munch picnics with far-away looks, wrangle over ice cream or where to go next, sidle off in loose gaggles, while old mum and dad sit and sip from thermos tops, doze, puzzle over dried-up flower beds, wait to be collected. Crisp leaves rattle in circles, a long summer’s dust tangos over gravel. Not so distant cloud has whipped itself up into a host of cobras. Three women identically smart dodge cars, vans, topless double-deckers and take a break to show off the flimsy contents of their logo bags. Designer-clad covens and fully-padded bikers glitter past, being seen together. Sparrows have even more in common: spasmodic chatter, pranks for ever fizzling out to start again. Then rain hesitant and clumsy after months of drought.
