Winchester Park.

I wrote this little tale in 2013 during a time when a development had been agreed,and the developers where erecting signs to direct their contractors. Iit is purely fiction,but could easily have happened.

I was on my usual morning walk along a Devon lane when I saw two people coming towards me.They were obviously walkers judging by their appearance they were wearing all the right gear.Walking boots,waterproof clothing,and they were carrying a rucksack each.

The man was studying a map.The neatness of their appearance suggested that they were not country people.As they got closer I heard the distinct sounds of my native tongue.They looked lost.

The man looked at me, and in a heavy German accent said:”Goot Mornink”.

I replied:”Guten Morgen”.

Once they both realised that I was a fellow countryman they were both overjoyed

It appears they were on a walking holiday and had set out from Whimple this morning and now fancied a rest.They saw a sign marked Winchester Park and had been looking for the park for some time.

I explained that there was no park as such and that the signs were meant to point people to a planned housing development.

The man asked:” vere is zis development? Ve have followed ze zigns but have not seen a park or a housing development.” 

I explained that there was no development yet.They looked at me as if  I was mad.

“No park,no development?Vat a crazy country.Ven I zink of a park I see lawns and trees and zvings for ze children ,and seats for for ze people to rest zeir veary legs.

So ve have valked looking for something zat does not exist.Who zinks up zese crazy ideas?Is it ze government?”

“No,” I replied.”it has nothing to do with the government;It is the developers who want to build more houses in the country to make more money.You see a good sounding name of a development will attract more buyers for their houses”.

“Yes, I can see zat,but is not wery good practice and is misleading for schtrangers”.

“Come on Otto,” said the lady,”Ve must valk on and find somevere to sit,my feet are killing me”.

I told them that they could always go to the Nog Inn, the local pub,get a drink and rest their weary legs.

“Is zat a real inn,or is it only being zought of at ze moment, like ze park and ze development?”Komm Gretchen,let us go and find ze inn if it exists.

Zank you my friend for explaining all ziz to us.Ve vill now go for a drink and a rest before going on to find perhaps a park proper.

Auf Wiedersehen,next time ve come to valk ve vill go to Vales.” 

They invited me to join them for a drink,but I had no time for that. I zanked zem and carried on viz my valk.

E.W.Peters.