After an hour-long walk circumnavigating Arthur's seat into Duddingston, our anticipation was palpable. We rounded the last corner and approached the hillside, craning to catch a first glimpse of what I imagined would be a colourful jumble of innovative contraptions; a futuristic play-village teeming with all things shiny, whirly, and slippery. The reality was altogether different. Indeed, all individual elements described by the article were there - flying fox, slides, space net, etc - but as a composite entity, they were altogether underwhelming, and a bit difficult to see, because they were
It was a bit like hall dinners. You read the menu: 'Ah, carpaccio of sea trout. Lovely. Pea and herb salad with citrus dressing, and - mmmh! lemon tart for dessert.' You end up with mush-mush on a plate. The taste and quality of the meal is beside the point: the foodlike shapes in front of you do not resemble the image conjured by the eloquent description that so whetted your appetite. You feel jipped.
|some of the features of Meadowfield Park. the rest were a bit scattered.|
|'I like the sensation of travelling through the air.' - Marianne|
|a bug's eye view of my climbing prowess.|
|not slippery enough to be called a slide - more like 'tube-on-stilts.'|
|the logs were not terribly diverse either.|