• Broomfield park anecdotes

     Broomfield park anecdotes

    The park, as we called it, was at the centre of our stays at Derwent road. It was part and parcel of the delight of our stay. Even if of course the house at 9DR and the family were the most important, I don’t think I’m exaggerating if I say the park was almost like another member of the family. There was its beauty and variety, its vast expanses, the multiple aspects and purposes, suited for everybody, old and young, restful or sports-oriented, families or schools… At its best, that is, before the burning down of Broomfield house, and the vandalized clock-house and pond-houses, I think it must have rivalled with many other London parks for amenities and sheer beauty. Grovelands had a wood and a stream which Broomfield didn’t have, but Broomfield was better equipped in terms of sports facilities. There was the conservatory, the aviary, the Garden of Remembrance, the Bowls green, the bandstand by the lake, the little passages around the House. Broomfield House itself, with its museum, its tea-house facilities, its position facing the lake and the Elm avenue was really a beautiful monument.

    Broomfield park anecdotes

    Before the vandalizing, I remember that people were very conscious of the public value of the place, witness the threat of which I had been an unwilling victim when one day, seeing me neglectfully scrape one little bit of paint on the huge Coronation gates which used to open on Aldermans Hill, a friend of Mark’s (I think) said I shouldn’t do that, that I could be prosecuted by the police, or worse perhaps (what’s after the police?), and it could be judged a public offense worth £200. I was really scared, and the boy wasn’t laughing.

    Broomfield park anecdotes

    When we were younger, the park was of all first the slides (especially the BIG slide but see them all here), swings, merry-go-rounds and see-saws. In its time, the whole lot must have cost an enormous amount, because they were all excellent quality and strength. First there was the climb all the way to that little cage, from where the loooonnng descent became visible. Then we would compete as to who would manage to slide the furthest down the ramp (you probably had to fling yourself down without holding the slides to limit friction – I remember somebody falling from mid-height because of a lack of grip). There were also races running up the slide, to see if we could reach the top from that side. And then sliding upside down, on your back from the big slide was the ultimate challenge. I can still feel the eerie sense of unease while watching the treetops from that position. The see-saws were fascinating too, I remember Monsieur Père showing us how to block somebody in the top position: you had to push yourself the farthest back possible, and hold on to that position while the victim of your weight was up there, wiggling his feet in the air and pestering against you! Later, we would play the judge by standing on the middle of the see-saw and weighing the instrument in one direction or the other. So you can imagine my disappointment and regret when one year I discovered everything was gone and replaced by -what?- a mini golf-course, instead of the swings and slides…! It’s true that the replacement climbing construction further down, near the former race track, is fine, but can it make up for what there was before?

    Broomfield park anecdotes

    The park also meant the pond : when we were little, we were mainly preoccupied with the first one, the circular one for model boats (it used to be a fish pond in the aristocratic days). I was struck by its size, its depth, its dangers even, to the little ones we were at first. Once (I was perhaps 8 or 9?) in spite of repeated warnings, I actually slipped and fell … in its surprisingly shallow depth: I dunno, I think I was a little disappointed! The pond meant the ducks to feed (Auntie Olive would supply us with bread cuttings to go and throw them, it was great watching them swimming and splashing after them), the boats to watch – some boat owners had amazingly big models, with a luxury of realistic details, and I would imagine myself, Gulliver-like, onboard as they glided along and made a neat wash behind them. I didn’t need the things for myself: it sufficed to watch and hear their electric noise, their splish-splash, and the way they were manoeuvred… (check this address for the BP model boat club): (the one below is a long time ago!)

    Broomfield park anecdotes

    Then one year (1969?), Monsieur Père had a surprise for us: he’d bought a sailing boat! We called it the VPZ (Vivi Paco Zizi), it wasn’t ridiculous in size, and even if it didn’t have an engine, at least it really floated, and we loved watching it take the wind on the pond. We rushed from one side to the other in order to retrieve it on the other side. Sometimes we had to slacken the sails to enable it to catch the wind better, but occasionally it also got stuck in the middle and other motor boats volunteered to push it back towards us. We very happy to be now part of the official users of the pond in this way. We recently spoke about the boat and we came to the conclusion that it must have been broken by some children playing with it at 9DR, where it stayed from one holiday to the next.

    Broomfield park anecdotes

    Crossing the park led to some unknown or mysterious places, for example to the other side, diametrically, when we went with Auntie Olive to the library, or entering the park at the top of Powys Lane, coming from Arnos Grove. Speaking of mysteries, I have been told there was (or is) a secret underground passage to go from one pond to another, but I’ve never seen it! (I think it should be some kind of overflow pipe connecting the ponds). Going in the park at night, though strictly forbidden, was real fun too. We did that several times (at a later age though) and fancied ourselves as trespassers – which we were – but also loved giving ourselves a fright with noises and imagined movements coming from the wind and the park animals.

    I hope Heaven (or some other authority-filled locus) isn't going to break down on me if I reveal what we had done once (I recently found the actual date in my 1975 diray: July 17th of that year!) with a cousin of mine, whose name I will not disclose in case he might resent my implicating him! Silly billies, as you'll see. I suppose we had been looking for something to do, and we came up to the Bandstand on the lake:

    Broomfield park anecdotes

    There were some deck chairs lying around, and without exactly understanding what had seized us, we took one and threw it into the water... It made a great splash, and we thought it best to run away. We crossed a warden who certainly had been alerted by the noise, and thought that perhaps somebody or something had fallen into the pond (he was right!). I think he looked at us suspiciously, but we escaped. I don't really feel all that proud of this now, but it felt glorious at the time. That chair stayed a while in the water, because some years after, I saw it there still, floating among the water-weed.

    I’ve spoken elsewhere about rounders that we used to play towards the top of the park, most notably during school sports, but I’m sure there had also been some rounders among cousins too. In the summer, there was an ice-cream van near the large QE2 entrance which is now reduced to a much smaller, much more sober-looking black gate, and I remember the chocolate flakes that were stuck in the vanilla ice-cream. The animals of the park have always been a special attraction, too, not only the ducks and geese for which we were given bread crumbs, but also the grey squirrels which it was fun to attract right into your fingers if they dared, and the variety of birds who were tame enough to do the same. In the House, there was the natural history section, where all the animals and many more were presented; some stuffed foxes and badgers for example, if I remember well.

    Broomfield park anecdotes

    Broomfield park anecdotes

    Broomfield park anecdotes

    Check here for some official history of the park. 

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  • Comments

    Tuesday 15th October 2013 at 21:47

    One summer day, I was about eleven, perhaps a little older, I was sitting one one of the swings in Broomfield Park, not very far from the big slide. Well, what happened that afternoon was truly Fellini-esque. You know, those black and white Italian movies of the 1960's, in which the Mamma always leans out of a window and shouts at the children to come and eat, while the latter are playing down the street. Well, that day, then, I felt like a true spectator, and so did the other people around. Everything was fine, you know, a typical day at that quiet and respectable park. All of a sudden, the friendly and easy-going atmosphere was broken by the shouts of a woman who was actually running after a boy. Both came into the park. I quickly understood that the woman was the mother of the boy, a Mamma who had no intention but to get a hold of her son. But the child was running faster than his mother, and as he ran through the swings and the merry go rounds, the mother was shouting, telling him she would catch him and beat him up. Everyone had stopped and were staring at the scene, baffled at the scene. Then the funniest thing happened. The boy ran towards the big slide and started climbing the metal steps. His mum ran after him, climbed the stairs of the slide as the boy slid down. The mother slid down after him, while the boy returned to the metal stairs. His mum ran after him again, climbing, shouting, and yelling at her son. Would you believe me if I told you this happened three times? It did, though. Eventually, the infuriated mamma continued chasing her bambino outside the park, perhaps they ran as far as the triangle goes...

    After the storm, the quiet and so British atmosphere of Broomfield park reclaimed its rights. Never in my life have I seen anything like this. Except in Italian movies, of course.

    Tuesday 15th October 2013 at 22:12

    Amazing!! It must have been an Italian movie rehearsal scene. You should have turned around and you would have seen the shooting crew hiding behind the trees!

    Monday 21st October 2013 at 15:08

    With Benny Hill in the director's chair

    carol phillips
    Tuesday 20th May 2014 at 20:57

    That little boat I think wad kept at AO' s little 5th box room with all the boxes of soaps in. (Unless there was another boat) and she always came with us to sail it. It was on the understanding that this boat was precious. I do remember us Phillips' s sailing it. If it ever broke - I don't remember how but I'll apologise anyway. It did bring us great pleasure and I think Mark always carried it. The responsibility was enormous!

    Tuesday 20th May 2014 at 21:56

    Yes, we discussed this little boat in the box room full of soap, but I don't know if it was the famed VPZ... But don't bother apologizing now Carol though, time has covered up all this with a soft coat of uncertainty!

    Sunday 11st August 2019 at 15:38

    Hello! We're a local organisation that are crowdfunding to clean up and restor the ponds. We've posted about your blog today. I hope that's OK? We think it's absolutely wonderful. https://www.instagram.com/p/B1BoIv1lF67/

    Sunday 11st August 2019 at 19:23


    Thanks for the message. I couldn't really find the location where you posted about this blog, but on principle anyway, many of the photos posted here do not belong to me, so not to worry.

    Sunday 11st August 2019 at 19:30
    Oh I'm sorry, its here! Would love to chat more with you if you wouldn't mind? https://www.instagram.com/p/B1BoIv1lF67/?igshid=10y3w2whhdygz
    Sunday 11st August 2019 at 19:49

    Thanks. No problem about chatting: here's my email: yves.1000ou@gmail.com or FB account yves millou.

    Hear from you soon.

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