In a play space that is constantly changing there is one thing that is firmly planted, not going anywhere -- The Office. The green shipping container at the far end of the playground is where children first stop after crossing The Land from the main entrance, before digging into their day's play.
Inside is where Claire sorts receipts and tabulates the budget. Where playworkers write and file risk assessments (below) and graffiti the walls with quotes like, "through play we become human."
Frequently throughout the day, constantly even, heads pop through the door. "Hiya." "What are you doing?" "Where's Dave?" "Have we got a saw?" "Can you build me a den?" "What time is street play?"
And despite an inch of muddy slush, a sofa, and piles of loose parts (broken umbrellas, loose papers, a box of foot-long stickers of the number '6', two silver trash cans, and a pack of socks to rescue cold, wet toes...) the playworkers squeeze in each evening to share a brew (tea!) and reflect after a long day. The slimy view of an ever-changing playspace cannot be beat.
Cozy in its disorder, there always seems room for one more.