LISTENING to the news, I often find myself shaking my head in disbelief. Ridiculously lenient sentences doled out to drink-drivers who have ploughed into innocent pedestrians, children starving and dying under dreadful regimes while world leaders look on.

Now I know in comparison with the above the following does not register on the scale of Urgent Action Required, but it did cause me to shout in Victor Meldrew fashion: "I don't believe it" and shake my head for much of the day.

A slippery surface causing people to fall over, the possibility of nutrients and algae in the water that could lead to people falling ill . . . no, I'm not referring to a mountain stream on the edge of a Swiss glacier. I'm talking about the little gully of running water that makes up the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain alongside the Serpentine in Hyde Park.

It was sealed off from the public after two adults and a child slipped and hurt themselves on the granite steps that make up part of the fountain.

When I heard the shocking news I immediately thought of the many days out on the moors we enjoyed as children, filling the entire day with adventures in moorland streams. All the underlying rocks were slippery to some extent (which is understandable as they are permanently under water), but, for some unknown reason, some were much slippier than others.

Some were sharp and some were wobbly, but by carefully feeling your way you assessed which ones to tread upon and which to warn your brothers and sisters (and my dad, who often ventured in with us) about.

We would splash around for hours. Very occasionally, one of us might sustain the odd cut but it was quickly dealt with and we were back in the water. And on almost every trip, at least one of us would fall over, emerging drenched from the water.

When my children stay with their grandparents they are taken to the same streams and experience the same sense of fun and excitement as we did. They even drink out of the same moorland springs, yet haven't to my knowledge contracted any serious illnesses.

People today need to, as they say, 'get a life'. I can understand the authorities concerned racing to close the fountain after a handful of people slipped. They were probably scared stiff of the number of lawsuits they might face had they allowed this dangerous attraction to remain open.

These days, people are reluctant to experience anything to do with water that is outside of a leisure centre. Yet you can just as easily slip on the edge of a bathing pool. People worry about algae and dodgy nutrients in rivers and streams, yet in public pools they happily immerse themselves in chlorine and unpleasant discharges (we know it goes on) from other bathers.

How can anyone deal with the possible hazards of anything in life if every one, however minor, is removed?

There are few more refreshing feelings than immersing your feet in water when out on a walk. A couple of years ago I battled my way across an icy stream in the Lake District, so cold it made my feet ache.

It was slippery too, with a fast flowing current. I fell over a few times -- I really should have mentioned it to National Park bosses who could have fenced it off. Instead it is still there, an accident black-spot waiting for the next victim.

The man-made Diana fountain obviously isn't in the same league. It's a small, shallow watercourse in a public park, offering people living in the middle of the city the next best thing to a natural stream. Yes, it's obviously too 'natural' for some people.