However, the park is the place where I can just come and think: it's quiet and peaceful and I feel free; away from the bustle and noise of the city. There is a chill breeze in the air, therefore most people are inside their warm houses, clustering round their coal fires, but this is when I like it best. To me, wrapped up in layers and scarves, it only feels fresh, not cold and I can think better when I'm alone. I stare at the climbing frame, once bright and colourful with a shiny slide, but now the only colour is the dull rusty red of the metal and the black of the graffiti covering it. My eyes glaze over while I reminisce about happier times spent on the climbing frame, and how I used to fly through the air, aided by the monkey bars, just like a chimpanzee swinging through a tree