Just to clarify: the name may sound a little gothic, but is actually in reference to an old word for meadow. I do not believe nefarious deeds took place at the lake, but I will concede a rename wouldn’t be the worst idea.

There is a lovely walk near to where I live which boasts a fair amount of cheerful bird companions along the way. It’s one of those places that, while not far from houses and roads, feels immediately peaceful. You can walk beside the disused canal keeping pace with the ducks, swans, coots, moorhens and Canada geese, then rest at a bench by the lake, where the birds also gather to snooze and preen. It feels very much like a communal gathering even when you’re alone.

It’s a good, flat walk, which works well for me with my ridiculous lack of balance. But that also means it is usually only frequented by elderly dog walkers, who are definitely my preferred stranger to encounter! There is something infinitely soothing about a duck pond. I often find they are my favourite spots for a sit down and a big think about things. And because these are inner city wildlife, they are completely unphased by dogs or people. A squirrel has dived from one branch to another mere centimetres from my head. Excellent for doodling or pretending you have completely honed your Snow White skills. I live in hope.

The tiny tents of serious fishermen can often be sighted on a distant shore, and there is a local photography club who talk of seeing herons and kingfishers and owls. The lake has adjoining woodland and the beginnings of a memorial forest. It’s a lovely oasis to wander.