I went for a wee walk yesterday. I came across this locked gate and asked a woman how to enter the park. It's impossible to take shortcuts here; there are fences everywhere. Big fences, small fences, brick fences, charred fences, fences with razor wire... you get the idea.
"How do I get in there? All the gates are locked!"
"Aye, I wouldn't go in there if I were you. Lots of undesirables in the park, if ya know what I mean."
I didn't know what she meant, but I nodded anyway. She had just said my magic words.
Don't go in there.
"It's your choice of course. But I wouldn't go in."
I walked down the street and found the entrance to Colin Glen Forest Park.
The visitors centre woman gave me a booklet where I read about the booming linen industry that grew here, alongside centuries of rivalry between Catholic and Protestant townspeople. I didn't meet any "undesirables" but could hardly ignore the signs warning against "anti-social behaviour".
I will probably come back. The ideas are percolating.
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