A BEAUTIFUL morning in Pollok Country Park. Crisscrossed vapour trails make a saltire of the sky, and the rain clouds are no more than a half-meant threat tucked away behind the tower blocks on the horizon.
Highland cattle, somewhat muddier than the toffee bar propaganda suggests, crop the grass lazily and nuzzle the haunches of their calves.
The people who love this park love it for its peace, and today is as tranquil as it gets. But could this be u
nder threat? The campaigners of Save Pollok Park believe so. They are horrified that a company called Go Ape may be given permission by Glasgow City Council to build an "aerial assault course" in the North Wood. They say that the 32-acre forest, which dates back to 1741, is the last wild place in the park and should not be developed. The calm, they argue, would be shattered by people shooting through the trees on "zip slides", protected flora would be harmed and the "specialness" of the area would die a death. In other words, ask not for whom the bluebell tolls, it tolls for thee.
I have arranged to go for a walk in the North Wood with Bill Fraser, a Save Pollok Park spokesman. Although the campaigners are keen on hush, they have been noisy in their opposition to the development. A bad-tempered meeting towards the end of last month attracted around 600 people.
Fraser is a 59-year-old business development manager and community councillor. He lives in Pollokshields and has cycled to the park. "I'm no eco-warrior," he insists. "It's to ward off the heart attack."
We walk past the Burrell Collection and towards the woods, first passing a large grassy area. "This is The Glade," says Fraser. "One of the proposals is to run a zip slide across there. Imagine sitting having your picnic and all of a sudden a guy goes 'Geronimo!' 40ft above you."
An old lady approaches, walking a Welsh terrier. Fraser asks what she thinks about the Go Ape plan. "I'm against it, and so is everybody I know," she replies. "But the council always win in the end, don't they?"
There does seem to be a growing anxiety in Glasgow that the council regards the parks as cash-cows, which have gone too long unmilked. These open spaces are an important part of the city's self-image as the "dear green place", and that has been tested lately as various groups have attempted to oppose developments. Most recently, the council encountered a great deal of hostility when it agreed to lease an area within the Botanic Gardens to the high-profile G1 Group of bars and nightclubs.
On the other side of the city, Glenconner Park in Royston was the scene of a stooshie when permission was granted for the construction of a private nursery and car park. Elder Park in Govan could be the next flash-point. Environmentalists are worried by plans to construct a cluster of buildings.
In all of these cases, there is concern that public space is being encroached upon by private interests. Pat Kane, in his book The Play Ethic, writes about "the democratic energies of the public park", and his phrase does express something that is rarely spoken yet deeply felt. Parks crackle with democratic energy, because they are free to use and used freely. It doesn't matter whether you are on the dole or a dotcom millionaire. You can enjoy the same basic pleasures: fresh air, sunshine (for two minutes in June) and a sense of space.
Parks are also democratic in that they make us feel connected to our fellow citizens. There is a feeling of connection, too, to those who went before us. I own a book of old photographs of Glasgow, and there's something moving about seeing parents of the 1920s stroll with children on the same paths in the Botanic Gardens I walk with my son. Parks are palimpsests through which we sometimes glimpse the past.
Whatever the rights or wrongs of their case, it's little wonder that the Save Pollok people are so worked up. The park means the world to them. Last Tuesday I attended a public meeting in Pollok Burgh Hall. There were about 100 people there – a mix of old and young – and they talked tactics and presentation. Direct action was discussed, but a distinctly polite variety: picnics to obstruct the zip slide; going for a pee en masse to show up what they consider to be inadequate toilet provision.
It was declared a terrible shame that the great crested newt was not present in the park, as this is an endangered species. Given the lack of newts, it was thought that it would be good to have a celebrity on side. But this was too much for one woman. "I can tell you," she snapped, "Billy Connolly will not be interested in this!"
A man at the back said: "We've got to make sure we're not seen as a bunch of Nimbys. It's more David and Goliath."
A man at the front was worried: "We're getting portrayed as dour people who are against fun. But we're not."
Everyone applauded when an angry bloke stood up and said: "We don't need to stop Go Ape. We just need to delay it long enough for Tristram to go away and sail round the world."
Tristram Mayhew is the co-founder of Go Ape. He tells me that in Glasgow they would attract at least 20,000 customers each year, so he is reluctant to be dictated to by a few hundred protesters. He will not withdraw his application.
On the other hand, Mayhew only realised recently that the North Wood was so special to people. He says that, even if the council grants permission, he may consider building the course elsewhere in the park. He has a location in mind, near an existing children's playground, and though it will cost £10,000 to make the change, he wants to do the right thing. He also has the possibility to open in Edinburgh instead.
Back in Pollok Park, Bill Fraser is leaning against a felled tree and quoting Winston Churchill. It's a homely portrait of defiance. "Up with this," he says, adjusting his tartan scarf, "I will not put."
The full article contains 1070 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
