I was thinking about playgrounds this week. And how great they are.

I was thinking about playgrounds because when I ponder what I want to be when I grow up, I consider three things.

1. Where I am now.

2. Where I could progress to.

3. And, most importantly, where I’ve been.

Number 3 is important when I consider what I want to be when I grow up because – looking back – I can recall what I enjoyed most. When I was happiest. So that, if I want, I can pick up from there.

Thing is, if I try to recall happy times when I had no experience and understanding of being judged, put down, ridiculed, embarrassed or told I was wrong. Back to a time before I learned the dream-paralysing effect of such things, I have to go back a very long way.

I think I was 5.

So I’ll to pick up from there. Dreams are purer. More numerous. Dreams are left to grow more freely when you’re 5. So the dreams I have at 55, that may very well die too soon if I don’t regress, might just make it.

If you fancy it, I’ll see you there. In the playground.

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