Autumn in Valentines Park

 Autumn in Valentines Park.

So there we were strolling through Valentines Park in Ilford, Essex, dear old England, Essex at its most idyllic and suddenly there was a delightful awareness of autumn. Welcome my friend. How good it is to see you again. We knew you'd be waiting for us. The autumnal splendour of it all had revealed itself like a peacock with all its flamboyant plumage and feathers. Of course the evidence is there for all to see for all to appreciate. The yellowing leaves are burnished with a sepia tinted brownish colour, scudding and scurrying around frantically chasing each other like young primary school children at playtime.

There is always something pleasurable and satisfying about a late September morning because the mornings are quieter than ever, the kids are back at school and their park playgrounds were more or less empty for that reason alone. Valentines Park was the most delectable and ravishing of all parks because it was your childhood and besides you were entitled to your favouritism. With my Jewish Care group we took the opportunity to take in the magic and wonder of this picturesque idyll. Of course there was the heavy scent of nostalgia in the air because you've trodden these pathways a million times and the feeling never leaves you at all.

It's that ineffable emotion that none of us can define because it needs no introduction or reminder. A long, gentle and beautifully meandering stroll around the park took in everything that my late and wonderful mum and dad had once taken me to on so many occasions during my early childhood. There was the inevitable roundabout, the swings and slides that you so joyously embraced over and over again because you were indeed that child of nature. You had no idea of the future that might have been mapped out for you, just a simple experience and one to leave you with indelible memories. Sometimes you didn't want the day to end because you were blissfully content to spend the entire day jumping onto the slides and roundabouts and staying there until midnight.

So you returned to Valentines Park and the overall impression is one that hadn't really been touched by time and remained in the pristine condition that you recalled as a toddler. You must have run freely around the verdant green playing fields for an interminable period, in and out of bushes and trees, watching the club cricketers exchanging cracks of the willow on their handsome bats. Then you vaguely remember the games of hockey, the shouts and whistles of encouragement from the players, the pitch and putt golf course, the boating lakes, one of which had been allowed to resemble an Amazonian jungle and the other still in use, an integral part of the park's sylvan landscape.

Then there were the muddy games of football during the winter when you heard hoarse, masculine voices shouting Man On or On Me 'Ead Son. On Melbourne Fields you remember your childhood friend's dad refereeing endless Sunday matches during the morning. And of course Melbourne Fields was once the concert venue that the legendary soul singer James Brown had chosen to appear at. How you would have loved to be a fly on the wall during discussions between Brown's agents and record producers. What a shrewd and discerning man James Brown was.

Then there was the cafe in Valentines Park, now almost a national treasure since it seems have been there for ever although that's certainly not the case. During the unforgettable summer of 1976 it was the central feature for the leisure and recreation of the local community. Throughout the whole of that sweltering, sizzlingly hot summer, hundreds of families could still be seen queueing up for ice creams, lollies and 99s with vanilla ice cream cones and chocolate flakes.

And of course there was Valentines Park Lido, the outdoor swimming pool, which is shortly to undergo a glorious resurrection next summer. During the 1976 heatwave the lido was the hedonistic choice of fun and enjoyment. How the kids loved nothing better than leaping into freezing cold water that reminded you of just huge blocks of ice, the remnants of the previous winter. And then there was the stream at one end of the park where an old school friend and yours truly once took jam jars to catch fish.

Now of course at another end of the park there is the unmistakable grandeur of Valentines Park Mansion, once owned by the landed gentry and the aristocracy centuries ago but now standing majestically in its very own spot. Tucked away behind are people, drinking and eating in the local cafe, while nearby, sitting discreetly next to another lake, is a tiny alcove where you could just read or eat lunch although this nook is still there. And before we forget there was a bird cage which is sadly not as prominent as it used to be but probably somewhere in the park.

And so we left our footprints on this sacred piece of parkland, the crunching and rustling of the leaves to their own devices. It had been another exquisite day in our lives, September in its richest pomp, an autumnal pageant of colour and activity no longer the tennis or cricket haven of summer but still alive and well with its healthiest complexion. Oh autumn, Valentines Park, the place we called our childhood and to those who treasure the passing of the seasons, it just felt so good. As always.