Perverts

I am sitting in a children’s playground. Don’t worry, I am here totally legitimately with my sister-in-law and my small nephews who are running around playing. From where I am sitting, I can see the gate that separates the play-area from the rest of the park and a big sign just to the side stating that unaccompanied adults are not allowed. Apparently, you must under all circumstances be in the company of kids. Anyway, the sign gets me thinking - it is clearly there for a reason. Is it there to deter local paedophiles perhaps? And so, as I sit chatting to my sis-in-law, another murky part of my brain is starting to worry about whether I live in an area with a known pervert problem.

Maybe the council put these things up in every play area nowadays? I decide to spend the next few days wandering around the local children’s play areas to check for similar signage. Though perhaps this is not wise - I don't want to be mistaken for a wandering pervert. But I am still keen to know whether it is just this specific play-area or all play-areas.

My sis-in-law runs off to stop one of my nephews from eating a sweet he has just found on the floor. I glance around and realise that there are no other kids in the vicinity. Maybe local parents know something we don’t. Maybe we have come to a known ‘hotspot.’ I feel ill.

Sis-in-law returns with nephews in tow. She announces that they must go off to find a nearby toilet for my nephews who must pee without delay. I agree to look after bags and coats and the pee-party strolls purposefully out of the play area.

Wait.

This is very bad.

A cold-sweat shivers through me as I realise that, unwittingly, I have become an unaccompanied adult. And worse than that. An unaccompanied man. I notice a few people stroll though the park and glance into the play area. They spot me and instantly decide I am dodgy. I try to think of the best way to look normal and unthreatening. I consider standing up and shouting ‘I am not a pervert!’ but worry this would seem too defensive. Almost as if I had something to hide. Perhaps I could shout ‘I have nothing to hide!’ but this would simply be strange.

I pick up my phone and dial my wife. She will know what to do. She always knows what to do. Her voicemail clicks in and I leave a garbled message about perverts and how I am not one. I hang up and look for any sign of the returning pee-party. They are long gone and doubtless wandering the streets of South London cursing the council for lack of public bathrooms.

I remain seated and hope for someone to come into the play-area. I have cleverly worked out that if a young single mum comes in with her kids, while she might view me suspiciously, everyone else passing through the park will just assume that I am the dad. A nice, kid-friendly dad. In the current situation, limiting the number of people who think I am a pervert is important. We are in damage-limitation territory.

I turn around to see if any single mums are approaching. None are. But something else is horribly amiss. There is a man sitting on a far bench in the corner of the play-area. I hadn’t noticed him before because the area is quite large. But there is definitely a man. And he is totally alone. I should point out that there are many free benches in the normal park, so he has absolutely no reason to be where he is. He sees me looking at him and picks up his phone.

Pervert.