The shame of Ian, the lockdown pup

The park we go to every day is Victorian – large, full of mock landscapes and extravagantly diverse settings, lakes, woodlands, formal gardens and tiny wildernesses. We went on a guided tour of Buckingham Palace’s gardens three years ago, and afterwards my husband said: ‘Well, it was very nice. But Battersea Park is nicer.’ Above all, it’s capacious – of different tribes, who only very occasionally meet.

It was a Sunday morning, and the anglers were in place in their sullen portable canvas caves, backs to the world, staring at the water. The lake isn’t their personal fiefdom, though; dogs are fascinated by it. Mine  will sniff at it, but never plunge in. The unfamiliar dog now running away from its owner, however, was a plunger, and after a moment’s giddy, poised anticipation at the brink, was in.