Many neighbourhoods have at least a small playground, where childhood exuberance and energy can be expended in bucketfuls while parents mingle on the sidelines and catch up on the latest news. But like the clients they serve, these playgrounds are ageing and, in some cases, may not offer the safest of rides and experiences.
Just a generation or two ago, playgrounds were often grey, windswept corners of the park, dominated by unforgiving concrete and metal structures that were either rusting or covered in peeling, and possibly lead-based, fading paint.
There were probably a few swings, a slide, a squeaky see-saw and, if you were lucky, one of those slightly out-of-control rocking horses and off-centre roundabouts.
Children and parents these days are generally more pedantic purveyors of playgrounds, and are prepared to travel further to visit a decent one. Modern playgrounds have none of the sharp edges of the old ones — the equipment is largely made of softer plastics and the area underfoot comprises either a deep layer of bark chips or rubber matting.
The Dunedin City Council is now looking at the kind of play equipment children and parents around the city want in the coming years. The council’s community and culture committee has agreed to adopt a new play spaces plan, which replaces the last version from 2006.
The plan lays out the DCC’s priorities for constructing new playgrounds and maintaining existing play spaces. As part of that, a ‘‘destination playground’’ is being mooted — in other words, something special which will attract people from across Dunedin and further afield.
Councillors were largely supportive of such a flagship playground, although Cr Lee Vandervis offered an alternative vision of an empty section and a packet of matches.
He said the United Kingdom could offer the council its inspiration — ‘‘[they] dedicate a section of open ground with some water running through it, and often just a big pile of pallets and the necessities of creating fire and just let the kids go crazy’’.
Cr Vandervis had a swipe at parental pressure for expensive playgrounds and shared fond memories of what he got up to as a kid in Balclutha, saying his parents would have been horrified.
On the face of it, his comments may seem ill-chosen and deliberately provocative. But he has a good point. There are play spaces in Europe where children are left to run (somewhat) wild and to actually be children.
And it is true, to some extent, that parents these days wrap their children up in cotton wool, and panic if they get dirty knees or a scrape on their arm after playing outside.
However, there is also great merit in the city having a destination playground, which in Dunedin’s case could be Marlow Park, also known as the ‘‘dinosaur park’’.
Christchurch may end up with a smaller stadium than Dunedin, but it does have the Margaret Mahy Playground, a more than $40 million facility which draws families from across the country and is said to be the biggest in the southern hemisphere.
The playground was the first major project opened in the city centre after the devastating February 2011 earthquake. The intention was to bring grown-ups and children back into the city, and add some life to the dusty, deserted streets. It worked a treat and proved a boon to nearby businesses trying to get back on their feet.
There is absolutely no reason why something similar could not work in Dunedin.
