SIGNIFICANT DISTRESS

The travellers weren’t around long. In less than 24 hours they’d been given the police-order to vacate the park, and sure enough, with fifteen minutes to spare, they were off, leaving nothing but discarded clothes lines, plastic toy trucks, bin liners of rubbish and an old dog cage behind.

I went out there this morning.

The grass is so dry now. It’s like straw: brittle and brown, parched by the ongoing heat. At sunset it’s honey-coloured where the low sun falls across the park, and in the mornings it gleams white, but for the rest of the day the park is scorched brown, halfway to sand.

We found the police order lying in the grass like a discarded A4 printout.

“In accordance with section 60C of the Criminal Justice and Public Order Act 1994, I direct all those on this land to leave for the following reasons:”

The I in question was an authorising officer and a countersigning police officer whose name I’d better not tell you.

“I believe that you are residing or intending to reside on the land without the consent of the occupier and that you have or intend to have at least one vehicle with you and that you have caused or are likely to cause SIGNIFICANT damage, disruption or distress.”

In civil-service-training-school, commas are probably considered fancy Oxbridge flourishes. I’m also intrigued by the decision to capitalise the word ‘significant’ in a slightly passive-aggressive manner, emphasising its well, significance. What is significant distress?

I expect this is nothing new for the travellers. They’ve seen these notices a hundred times, each warning them in this exact comma-free capitalised tone, that next time (within twelve months) they’ll be arrested, or have their vehicles removed by the police.

I’m not knocking the police by the way. We have laws for a reason and public parks need to be safe for everyone to enjoy. To be honest, I was actually relieved to look out over the brown, brown grass of home, rather than grubby caravans.

I still feel an unusual compassion for those people, despite them angle-grinding through the park gate, ripping up the dry grass under their vehicles, and leaving piles of rubbish behind. I’m sure they’re used to it, and perhaps it’s part of their culture to be so antisocial. Nevertheless, they, like the terrified neighbours this side of the fence, need love just like the rest of us.