known about a subject, new concepts and theories are created

by bringing together personal experience, ‘outside’ knowledge

about related topics and experimenting with new ideas to see how

they turn out in the big wide world. In the absence of rigorous

empirical testing, those concepts and theories which stick around

long enough are turned into ‘facts’ in the repertoire of those who

need them. Sometimes, a clan of believers claim this new treasure

trove of lore as their own, guarding it zealously in mythical silos

and defending it from all advances.

Wittingly or unwittingly, adventure playgrounds have developed

an abundance of such treasure troves over the last 70+ years.

Adventure playgrounds rarely feature in the public consciousness,

because there are relatively few of them in the public domain

compared to standard public playgrounds, and they often occupy

spaces that keep them out of the public gaze – on land that nobody

else wants, or tucked away on a housing estate to serve a specific

population, or secluded from the adult world by sturdy walls

and (like Tiverton adventure playground in this book) grassy

banks. Like knowledge of the existence of adventure playgrounds

themselves, the treasure troves of knowledge which belong to them

are similarly well-concealed. The majority of primary sources

(such as they are) are tucked away in grey literature – stored (or

abandoned) in garages and attics, far-flung university libraries

and random archives and adventure playground huts all over the

world. And, even if you know that a treasure trove exists, it might 
still be hard to actually get into, and getting hold of published primary
sources in academic journals and (even second hand) books can
cost more than it takes to run an adventure playground in a year
(what price knowledge?).

 This lack of accessible knowledge and primary sources has
created a knowledge vacuum in which new ‘knowledge’ appears,
created not by those who have developed their insights from
first-hand experience or even an in-depth analysis of primary
sources, but from ingresses and interpretations of knowledge
from other domains. Over the last few decades claims have been
made that adventure playgrounds were originally created as
society’s answer to post-war delinquency in children, a form of
alternative education, play spaces, bastions against Nazism and/
or anarchism…I can’t help thinking that that particular interpre-
tation would have Lady Allen of Hurtwood turning in her grave…

“We were freely accused of being anarchists or communists, and

of undermining morals…” (Allen and Nicholson, 1975, p.249)

Some claims may of course be based on some facts. It is certainly

the case that some individuals involved in the early adventure

playgrounds in the UK were Quakers, for example. Several

adventure playgrounds have indeed opened their gates to different

groups such as schools and parent and toddler groups. However,

conflating facts about individual adventure playgrounds and the

individuals who run them with the entire rationale for creating

adventure playgrounds in the first place distorts the nature of truth

beyond interpretation. Just because children learn in spades (often

literally!) on an adventure playground, it doesn’t automatically

follow that they were created for the purposes of education, and

whilst adventure playgrounds do offer a space in which children

can (and do) play, that doesn’t mean that they were originally

created as play spaces. Interpretations of adventure playgrounds

the very nature of (their) existence.

So when Angus first approached me with his idea for this book,

I said yes without question, because I strongly believe that primary

literature is crucial to securing an identity and a future for adventure

playgrounds as they were originally envisaged by Sørensen in

1931. The chapters in this book clearly demonstrate in glorious

empirical detail that adventure playgrounds transcend – or should

transcend – superficial and unfounded claims to knowledge about

their purpose. The authors, practising playworkers on adventure

playgrounds, reveal themselves and their treasure troves in all

their complexity, enabling us, the readers, to not only experience

adventure playgrounds alongside those that spend their time

there, but also to see adventure playgrounds from a myriad of

different angles. All the adventure playgrounds in this book fit the

definition of an ‘adventure playground’ provided by Lady Allen of

Hurtwood for A Supplement to Oxford English Dictionary (1972):

“a playground where children are provided with miscellaneous

their own amusement.”

Yet as each story unfolds, it becomes clear how every space

has been designed (in the very loosest sense of the word) and

is continuously recreated by those who use them, taking the

simple concept of ‘adventure playground’ and reconstructing it

in their own local image. The focus of activity on each adventure

playground may also look different on the surface (building,

horticulture etc). It would therefore be very easy to assume that

this book is about an idea that proliferated across the world and

now means different things to different people, or that these

‘spaces filled with junk’ were created with very different aims

in mind. However, what binds these diverse spaces together is

a commitment to Sørensen’s original vision of a world where

children still had space and time to be children, despite living in

urban environments:

“It is my opinion that the children to the greatest possible extent

lives and activities.” (sic)

During the ten years that I spent tracking down and analysing

hundreds of primary sources on adventure playgrounds, this

theme of children needing freedom from adults, adult expecta-

tions and the adult world in general constantly surfaced and

resurfaced – in letters, reports, diaries, magazine articles and

funding bids, all written by the adventure playground pioneers.

What this treasure trove revealed was that creating more adult

agendas and outcomes for children (such as education, sociali-

sation and even play) was the very last thing that adventure

playgrounds and those involved with them stood for. Adventure

playgrounds (and the practice of playwork which developed

from them) were created with the aim of creating space and time

for children to enjoy their childhoods on their own terms. To

describe the purpose of adventure playgrounds as anything else

is to (literally) mis-read what generations of dedicated adventure

playground workers have fought to defend (as many of these

chapters show) – the unorthodox but plain truth that the only

knowledge worth having about adventure playgrounds is the

knowledge produced by those who create and inhabit them.

I am therefore very grateful to Angus for his original idea

to bring contemporary adventure playgrounds from around

the world together in one volume. My heartfelt thanks also to

the authors for devoting their time and energy to create this

important primary source, which I hope will serve as a reference

guide for those who want to know what adventure playgrounds

are really all about.