Long Hot Summer Days In Platt Feilds Park

A Memory of Fallowfield.

Aged 8-11ish my friends and I would catch the 85 bus from Chorlton- cum-hardy bus station or walk if we were skint to Platt Fields Park with a plastic bag with brown sauce or salad cream butties in and a huge bottle of orange or corporation pop (water!). With no one to tell us what to do, we had a whale of a time. Now and then we would get a chase off the parkie for tormenting him and messing about. There was a tunnel/sewer which we named the witches tunnel with an iron gate across it, that ran under Wilmslow road, we would climb across the gate then contort our bodies until we were under the gate, there was a narrow ledge on one side of the gully which the water was often fast flowing and it splashed up our legs as we shuffled along in the pitch black, backs to the wet grimy wall, until we could see daylight at the other end. All the way we would shout and scream, shouting we could feel rats and spiders crawling around us. I don't remember reaching the other end, we would all end up turning back and ducking under the gate which on the return trip wasn't as easy so we ended up soaking wet. The water was clear and ran through the rest of the park through a red half tiled pipe. Fed up with this we would trail across to the boating lake and if we were flush would hire a boat and take turns rowing, and with all the moving about on board someone would topple in most times, God, how we all would laugh. We would make our way to the island in the middle but the man in charge of the boats would shout and bawl at us to keep clear! Or was that Heaton park boating lake?, There was a pets corner also where we would go and see the animals and feed them bits from our butties and fist fulls of grass. Anyway, a good time was had by all and we were happy, safe and carefree with a touch of risk thrown in for good measure, and we were back home for tea and our parents were none the wiser to our adventures. Happy, happy days!