This park would be quite a nice park if somebody went over it with an enormous comb - and I must specify an enormous comb, not merely a large comb like the one used for a deliberately groan-worthy sight gag in the comedy smash Spaceballs - and combed out all the bits of broken beer bottle and syringes and used condoms and dog shit and chip packets and whatever else people have dropped like the scum that they are. I don't know about the logistics of this combing operation. I assume you'd need a helicopter and a dozen stout men, or two helicopters and two dozen not-so-stout men. Like I say, I don't know about the logistics. I just deal in ideas.
There is a lake in the park, man-made, like all the best lakes. For about two weeks every winter the lake bed is almost completely covered with water. Ducks paddle about, children race around the banks, criminals chuck incriminating evidence into the murky shallows. The lake makes people happy. Then the warmer weather arrives and the lake begins to dry up. By summer's end the water has evaporated, the ducks have left, and police divers don't even need to roll up their trouser legs to conduct a search. The lake bed is cracked, scorched the same dead-brown colour as the grass elsewhere in the park. One summer day I asked a passing old man what he thought of the state of the lake. He tried to hit me with his walking stick and screeched something about "medication". I think he was feeling sad for the ducks.