We had several in our village. (Lah-dee-dah!)
The park near our house: had a nice bit that was ideal for a game of cricket. My neighbours’ grandkids from Shrewsbury (Peter and Paul - cue much “fly away Peter…” hilarity) used to play cricket there in the summer with my friends and me.
I’ve also got a scar on my left forefinger from that park: someone had left a load of razor blades lying around in the park and being the helpful kid that I was, I tried to slide them back into their packaging. Cut my finger open; blood everywhere.
Also once got punched square in the face by a guy who later on died from solvent abuse.
The rec: was home to the local cub / scouts hut. I remember our scout leader warning us about people who used to drink meths (@meths) at night there. He said they’d go blind from drinking it. I wonder if they actually were drinking meths (@meths).