While working as a Landscape Architect in Edinburgh, I was given the job of designing a Children’s Playground in Wester Hailes, one of the hardest districts in Edinburgh during the late 70’s. The people were great, but they lived in a dire environment and there were a lot of the usual sort of problems associated with that. I wasn’t relishing the opportunity because, whereas in most cases if you did a poor job you might be criticised, in Wester Hailes you might be kneecapped. Anyway, the job was mine and I resolved to do the best I could. The first thing was to meet up with the area Social Worker and, through him, talk to a selection of the local residents to discuss their needs.

The social worker was actually an Interpreter, because most of the residents talk as if they are drunk and barking through a mouth full of marbles and broken teeth which, in all probability, they are. The general consensus appeared to be that the Children needed a creative outlet for their energies, that would allow them to explore their physical relationship to the environment while developing their imaginations and fostering a sense of community.

Swings?

No, the seats will be used as offensive weapons until they are ripped off and the last swing was used as a lynching post for a young man from Leith found hanging from the remaining chain by his ankle.

Roundabout?

No, the last one was used to tie up a youth from Costorphine. Tied to the outer rail and the roundabout spun until his jeans were ripped away with most of the skin on his legs. Look, nothing that moves, OK?

Sandpit?

Seriously? It will be full of broken glass, dogshit and, probably, the corpse of a young man from Nidrie within 24 hours, like the last one.

But apart from that, the World is your Oyster. Let your imagination soar.

When I added in all the safety measures required by the Insurance Companies to ensure that their premiums were not in jeopardy, the results were somewhat stifled. I did my best, but with 2 hands tied behind my back and wearing a blindfold, the resulting design was pretty bland. The best part was a central feature mound in the shape of a dragon with a slide down his face. The slide could not be more than 300mm above the adjacent slope, the slope was so low as to make sliding almost impossible and the slide was metal so that it couldn’t be set on fire. I knew that no self-respecting child in his right mind would ever find this playground stimulating, but it ticked all the right ‘Safety’ boxes and gained approval.

Construction took a while because the Contractor had to bring in his tools and materials every day and remove them again every night because otherwise they would be stolen or set on fire, but eventually the job was complete and opened to great fanfare.

A week later, I got a call from the Social Worker, could I get down there immediately, as there had been an accident and there was likely to be a riot. I arrived on site to see an ambulance, lights flashing, siren wailing, as it pulled out of the estate. There was crowd of screaming wifeys, fuzzy slippers, curlers, fag hanging out of mouths, arms folded, surrounding the beleaguered Social Worker. I ducked out of sight at the back of the mob where a preternaturally old bunch of 7 to 10 year olds were laughing and having a craique.

I looked at the obvious ringleader. “What’s going on?” I asked.

“Whit’s it tae ye Sassenach?!”

“Well it looks like there’s been an accident and, as I designed this playground, I’d like to know how it happened.”

“Wull yir playground’s shite son, bit seein as et’s you, a’ll tell yis.”

“See, we wid’nae play hir, cos of how et’s feckin hopeless. So we wiz doon the railway cut and finds an auld mattress that hed been fresh dumped ken? Et wis all pishy but, yir man who dumped et must hae been an Alky because, Wee Shuggie (thet’s hem in the ambilence ken?) Wee Shuggie says, ‘Let’s hae a boanfire lads’ an’ he pits hes lighter tae it an’ et goes up like et’s petrol no pish. Feckin barry a’hm tellin yiz. So when et’s all birned awa’, thir’s jest a wire frame an’ springs left an’ Wee Shuggie (thet’s hem in the ambilence ken?) Wee Shuggie says, ‘Ah hev an idea lads!’ He wiz allays guid wi’ they ideas ken?

So, Wee Shuggie hes us all hoik yon wire frame up tae yir playground pal, an’ we climbs yir dragon mound an’ he hes es pit yon frame on toap o’ yir slide like, an’ still wi’ dinnae ken wit he’s thinkin. An’ then he stauns well back an’ teks a guid run at et an’ jumps oan tae the frame. Metal tae metal son! Nae friction! Thet’s feckin science et wirk boy. Wee Shuggie hurtles doon yon slide et a million miles a feckin ‘oor an’ wir all shoutin an’ yellin an’ Wee Shuggie’s fair flyin’. Until he gets tae the borrum… An’ then yon frame hits yir rubber safety mat ken? An’ yir front edge bites an’ stoaps dead like. An’ the back edge flips up, an’ Wee Shuggie es catapulted across thit tarmac, oan he’s heid!

Feckin brilliant! Thir’s blud evrywir! Wee Shuggie hes bin scalped. Like a feckin Red Indian Son. Laugh?! We cud’nae stoap. An’ Shuggie’s greetin’ at the toap o’ hes lungs, an’ aw they wifeys come oot screamin’. Wit a barry feckin’ day. Wee Shuggie, wit a total Barmpot!” And all the junior hoodlums erupt in laughter once more.

“Thanks guys. I think I get the gist of it.”

“Awright son, yir welcome. Wid yis hev a ciggie on yez, tae show yir appreciation like?”

“Sorry, I don’t smoke.”

“Wull ah suppose a can o’ Tennants wid be oot the question thin?.. Tube ae Airfix tae tek they edge oaf a wee bit no?… Yir no a hemmasexural are yiz?”

“Not the last time I looked. See, I’ve got a Mars Bar and a 50 pence piece.”

“Guid man so ye are! C’mon boys, wir all gettin’ blootered the noo.”

The boys shambled off, arms around each other’s shoulders, laughing and punching. Finally, the Social Worker spotted me and begged me to come forwards, he was offering me up as the sacrificial cow. Immediately a wifey started screaming at me,

“You monster! Wit hev ye done tae ma Wee Shuggie? When ma Man gits hame yir fay a skelpin’ an no mistake.

The other wifeys formed a circle, but I heard, “Yon’s a bit rich eh no? Her man’s no bin hame since Wee Shuggie wiz born.”

“Aye, yon bonnie wee lad hid best watch hiself, afir she hes the troosers oaf aye hem an’ et’s Wee Shuggie Mark 2.”

“Mind ah’d no say no tae a piece ay that.”

“Ony particular piece in mind hen?”

“ Just thit not sae wee bit showin’ in the front ay hes jeans thir.”
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmm.”

It seemed that Wee Shuggie’s scalping was rapidly becoming yesterday’s gossip.

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