Indrid Drood
Loitering with Ludic Intent
- Joined
- Nov 13, 2017
- Messages
- 195
Fascinating article on a man who built an underground bunker on Hampstead Heath:
The Invisible City
He had become a familiar figure to the park rangers, and they would exchange cordial hellos. Van Allen called them “Parky” – all of them. He wondered how suspicious Parky had become. “I was always [there] at dodgy times,” he later told authorities. “And no dog to walk.” The rangers knew and didn’t know. For a long time, rough sleepers on the heath had been ushered on, ideally over borough lines, to become somebody else’s problem. More recently, one ranger told me, a policy of “benign management” had been adopted. This method meant patience, waiting for the right time to deliver a proactive nudge so that the homeless person in their sights moved on in the direction of help, not just another patch.
Often the rangers waited til winter to do this, when the scrub became sparser and easier to inspect for camps. Winter was also a time to plunge in to clear up litter and the other unexpected items that got left behind – buggies, shopping trolleys, old munitions, empty bottles of champagne. Over the years, they had discovered bodies on the heath, murder victims and suicides. Still: it came as a surprise, one ranger told me, when they came across a patch where steam was rising out of what ought to have been solid ground.
Here where I live – where rents are astronomical - there are many who live year-round in the large seaside park on the edge of the city. The park rangers are aware of their presence, and while they do go through the wild areas on a regular basis to keep an eye on things, as far as I am aware they make no attempt to move these people on if they are not being a nuisance in any way. If these homeless people weren't in the park, they would be on the street; would that be preferable?
The Invisible City
He had become a familiar figure to the park rangers, and they would exchange cordial hellos. Van Allen called them “Parky” – all of them. He wondered how suspicious Parky had become. “I was always [there] at dodgy times,” he later told authorities. “And no dog to walk.” The rangers knew and didn’t know. For a long time, rough sleepers on the heath had been ushered on, ideally over borough lines, to become somebody else’s problem. More recently, one ranger told me, a policy of “benign management” had been adopted. This method meant patience, waiting for the right time to deliver a proactive nudge so that the homeless person in their sights moved on in the direction of help, not just another patch.
Often the rangers waited til winter to do this, when the scrub became sparser and easier to inspect for camps. Winter was also a time to plunge in to clear up litter and the other unexpected items that got left behind – buggies, shopping trolleys, old munitions, empty bottles of champagne. Over the years, they had discovered bodies on the heath, murder victims and suicides. Still: it came as a surprise, one ranger told me, when they came across a patch where steam was rising out of what ought to have been solid ground.
Here where I live – where rents are astronomical - there are many who live year-round in the large seaside park on the edge of the city. The park rangers are aware of their presence, and while they do go through the wild areas on a regular basis to keep an eye on things, as far as I am aware they make no attempt to move these people on if they are not being a nuisance in any way. If these homeless people weren't in the park, they would be on the street; would that be preferable?
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