Vicky Ewan: Peace lovers, can we let children play?

Lately, there seems to be a growing wish for the development of adult-only spaces and gatherings on our shores.

Torquay’s own graceful Tessier Gardens makes no apology for implementing this preference; it was in the covenant laid down by the creator of the gardens, who bequeathed its verdant charms to the public under the proviso that the beautifully manicured lawns, elegant features, and attractive pathways, would not be disturbed by the patter of little feet.

I can understand the feeling behind this: the enclosed gardens are a haven for those wishing to escape the hustle and bustle of life, a tranquil oasis for quiet conversation, calm contemplation, and uninhibited meditation upon life's ups and downs - few deliberately seeking its gentle solace would wish the peace to be shattered by infant chatter and play, no matter how innocuous, and those who stumble across its sanctuary by chance no doubt find the regulations refreshing - if a little unexpected. Other green spaces, of course, are likely to be populated by swathes of children, particularly in warmer weather, and are often developed with our younger generations in mind.

There is something quite lovely about the sound of children at play, their uninhibited whoops and screams of joy piercing the air; I am always gladdened to detect these echoes of happy infant liberty rippling across the air from parks and playgrounds. Indoor spaces can be a different kettle of fish. As a nation, we are inured to children running amok in pubs, particularly the family-friendly venues which encourage patrons of all ages and thoughtfully offer little distractions - colouring sheets and crayons to fill and delight chubby little hands and hearts - that furnish harried parents with five minutes blissful peace.

But not all areas open to the general public are so indulgent: whilst we fully expect (or perhaps dread) to find them at airports, we have all heard the horror stories about little ones creating chaos on planes - probably just expressing their discomfort and discontent in ways that many adults would secretly love to emulate but without the strictures of social conforming (or the soothing effects of a chilled gin and tonic).

The myriad reports of flights from hell across social media platforms are a prime example of our increasingly begrudging tolerance of children, a stance which seems to convey the regrettable fact that we seem to have lost sight of the fact that children are, in essence, merely ourselves in smaller form - we were all young once.

There are certainly places where parents must tremble to have their children accompany them. Adults attending church services with children in tow are often hesitant and self-conscious, aware of the visible resistance amongst one or two members of the congregation - who would really rather not, if it’s all the same to you, thank you - have infants in the building. Were our young not permitted entry, however, churches would surely be the poorer for it - their childlike wonder speaks immediately of the purest love at the heart of Christianity.

I was recently fortunate enough to be invited to the evening reception of a wedding for one of my husband’s colleagues (I say fortunate because my husband elected to take me; I never take these things for granted). As I had met neither bride nor groom before the event, and knew nothing of their wider families, I was uncertain what to expect from the experience. It was a balmy evening, perfect for a little al fresco enjoyment, and as we approached the site of the party, I spied that a good number of guests had spilt out of the building and were milling about the grounds, chattering and laughing, whilst music filtered out through the doors.

My husband and I entered the premises, and I became immediately aware of a swarm of youngsters amongst the throng, ranging in stature from a tiny toddler upwards. They were, by turns, chatting, racing, munching their way through bags of sweets, playing, falling over, crying, jumping around, singing, and individually having more fun than all the adults present combined. Utterly unfettered by social judgement and convention, they were the first to hit the dance floor, throwing their small bodies into shapes that the onlooking adults, hovering uncertainly at the edges, doubtless regarded with envy and nostalgia.

Now, I know that this was the evening party - an element of nuptial proceedings celebrated for its relaxed nature - and am aware that any displays of such rapturous self-expression during the ceremony itself and the more formal wedding breakfast may scarcely have been welcomed or encouraged - but it was still lovely to behold.

Clearly, the decision to include children amongst their guests is a choice exclusive to every bride and groom, but I genuinely believe little ones enhance and elevate weddings, bringing profound and simple happiness as they cavort about the place, admirably blasé in their disregard for their pretty party clothes, their zooming spirits creating spirals of joy wherever they pass. Their pleasure is - quite literally - unadulterated. I just wish they had asked me to join them on the dance floor.