It is perhaps good advice to avoid urban parks in January unless you enjoy tippy-toe-ing over mud and liquefied dog shit in a haze of drizzle, with the ever-present feeling that some thug kids are going to take their Stanley knife angst out on you in some grievous act of inter-generational hostility. It is even better advice to avoid such places just before, unbeknownst to you, they are "transformed" by a £2.8m renovation and that you are walking through the last days of a run-down 70's landscaping "public good" fail-speriment which is just a cunning way of preserving a 400 year old grade II listed building until the aristocracy can gather enough power and wealth to reoccupy their ancestral homes and round up the hoi polloi for reinsertion in their Matrix-like neural chambers, hidden from view.
It was in such glorious circumstances that I visited Worden Park and Hall. I should point out I wan't invited to attend the Hall for an ambassadorial event in which I was served a luxuriant platter of Ferrero Rocher. Rather, I did a circuit of the wintry park and Hall exterior, and alighted on the central court where there was a cosy folksy cafe which did Butternut Squash & Coriander soup and splendid coffee. There were also a number of craft/antique style shops which were a mix of retail and workshop space, which oddly maintained the working farrier-stable country vibe. Overall, a good way to blow the cobwebs off, notwithstanding the aforementioned societal limitations.
