Lunch in Oadby's civic spaces

I expect that while I'm on my travels after Easter, lunches will often be picnics. In France I look forward to Camembert and a baton of bread, eaten in the sunshine of spring in one of the charming squares that every village seems to cherish.

So when I picked up a sandwich from Asda in Oadby (egg and cress, £1.00), I thought I'd look for a place to enjoy it. At first I thought of Ellis Park, but as I crossed the dual carriageway I noticed the collection of seats around the Oadby civic sign.

In the middle of January, it's no surprise that I had plenty of seats to choose from. I've sat in worse places - there was no graffiti, only a small amount of litter. But the location certainly lacks a degree of charm. The bustling A6 is only feet away and there's little to look at.

I guess one of the things that travel does is to make us look at home in different ways. I'm interested in the ordinary, as well as the spectacular, and my encounter with the best of Oadby's civic spaces this morning was certainly on the ordinary side of incredible. I'm not knocking the place in which I live, Oadby's got a lot going for it. And we shouldn't criticise the planners too much for at least having a go, attempting to create a spot where people can tarry without rushing on, to sit and socialise. I imagine their design drawings for these townscapes included figurative depictions of men, women and children, all delighted-looking and carefree. Perhaps the failure of imagination is ours - those of us who rush through on our way somewhere rather than stopping every now and then. Perhaps I should enjoy Oadby through the eyes of the tourist more often.

When I'm journeying home from Paris, I'll look out for the way that towns and villages celebrate their public spaces and at the way that they're actually used by visitors and locals.