Dancing in the Dark

Every Spring the lake near Little G's house welcomes new arrivals. Birds fly in from Russia, the Sahara and all over Europe to spend the Summer feeding, breeding and being peered at by the local RSPB and other bird watchers.

Sometimes there are squabbles with the local ducks who have remained here over the Winter and set up nesting sites on the island, but on the whole, everyone gets on with scrounging bread from tourists and local kids, intimidating dogs, and messing up the path and lakeside grass with copious amounts of bird poo.

Over the past couple of years however, there has been a change. Pollution and the District Council's refusal to shoulder the costly burden of draining and then cleaning the lake has resulted in the water is becoming more and more polluted.

Yesterday when I walked past it, the stench emanating from the lake was really foul. The water was grey in colour and you couldn't see into the depths. Close to the edge, where children formerly played and dogs swam to retrieve sticks, curd-like scum rocked gently in the breeze.

There were still some brave ducks out in the deep part, but not many and the tourists who normally flock to the park to take pictures or eat their packed lunches by its sparkling side, had stayed away. Was this a rather unfortunate analogy? I thought so.