With the closure of pubs and nightclubs, libraries and parks suffering under austerity measures, and communities becoming increasingly isolated, we asked you to tell us about your favourite shared space and the value it brings to your life. Responses have been edited for length and clarity.

‘People I’ve met at the park have become my best friends’

My local park is a haven for me and my two kids. I’ve been going every day since my eldest was six months old – nearly 10 years. As a cash-strapped single mum who works from home part-time, having a free place to go to chat to others while my kids are entertained is precious. I have made fantastic friends with other parents, who are in varying stages of exhaustion – we all leave the park that little bit more relaxed.

Very early on some “regulars” formed a pack and we have been tight ever since, watching our kids progress from playing side by side on the swings to forming their own pre-teen cliques. From babies to teens to the tired mums, grandmums and nannies, we have all bonded. (Except the dog walkers, though – there is no mixing of camps there!)

Some acquaintances from the park have become my best friends, and have been there during life’s hardest knocks. I will always be grateful to a lady who was unexpectedly the first person I told that I’d just had a miscarriage. I will never forget the comfort she offered, and how she checked in with me afterwards. So few people are comfortable talking about that, but she made me feel less isolated. Faye, Surrey

‘As a solo act amid couples, I go to the library to meet people’

I have recently moved to an area that is nearly exclusively over-55s’ gated communities. I am a solo act; the majority of residents are couples in their personal bubbles. If you are not in a couple and your friends are far away, shared spaces may well be your only opportunity to converse with people.

There are no coffee shops or public spaces here aside from the library where one can meet engaging people who are also open to casual conversations. It’s become the proverbial emotional safe space for me. Peter Gyfteas, Green Valley, Arizona

‘On the cycle superhighway I see our shared humanity’

On the bike path I feel connection to people I will probably never meet. On my daily commute teenagers step aside to let me pass, a pedestrian grimaces sympathetically as I pant uphill, I wave as I carefully overtake a child wobbling on their bike, or I slow down until I can safely pass a person in a wheelchair. All races, religions, ages, sexual orientations and gender identities, just sharing the street. And unlike drivers who routinely yell, swear or otherwise harass me, the space is shared with eye contact, a smile and a nod of thanks – recognition of our shared humanity. Caroline, Yorkshire

‘Kindnesses in Tesco cheered my soul’

Research conducted by the Joseph Rowntree Foundation in Glasgow uncovered the importance of Tesco in Maryhill as a community hub – I spoke to staff and customers there to try to find out why. Many isolated older people said they were shopping every day or so to break their day up with some human interaction. They highlighted the great kindnesses shown by staff – beyond anything you would call customer service.

One customer told us how when her husband became ill, a member of staff from Tesco brought shopping and flowers, and a wheelchair to take her husband out for a walk. When you ask staff if they ever feel risk in approaching customers or of becoming involved in difficult situations, they say they are just doing what anyone would do.

I think increasing professionalisation and focus on achieving narrow outcomes in public and voluntary service provision makes those places less welcoming – so not only do we have fewer of them, those we do have are not meeting a simple need of connection. But a day spent at Tesco Maryhill is likely to include shared stories, laughter and quite possibly hugs. Many of the connections I observed there cheered my soul. Zoe Ferguson, Carnegie UK Trust

‘For people with autism, shared spaces are a chance to learn’

Buses and trains are valuable for my son who is autistic. Unlike, for example, a pub, they are not too noisy and they have a purpose. He can see why he should go on a bus, and during the journey he can sit and watch and listen to other people.

For autistic people, shared spaces offer a chance to study how people interact, watch their body language, listen to their tone of voice – aspects of social communication that autistic people find very difficult to master. Shared spaces without too much sensory overload – ie not pubs, nightclubs or noisy cafes – offer a safe and less anxious opportunity to see how the rest of us communicate. Anonymous, Birmingham

‘In co-housing in Denmark, we know all our neighbours’

When Sheila and I moved to Denmark 22 years ago we missed the local sociability of English pubs. But here shared spaces are often built into housing developments. An estate or a block of flats often has a community house or room where residents can meet. Local government regulations require that new housing developments contain a proportion of homes with some communal facilities.

We have lived for 20 years in a Danish co-housing scheme, where 12 neighbours share a common house, together with a small field with benches, tables, hammocks, and a kids trampoline. We typically eat together twice a week, so you get to cook for about 20 people every four weeks. In the common areas we read newspapers, drink coffee, do fitness, make beer, watch football on TV, and so on.

It isn’t a commune – you each still have your private life behind your own front door. But you know that there are friendly people behind all the other front doors if you need someone. In England we lived in places where we didn’t even know the names of most of our neighbours. Here we got to know 11 neighbours in our first week. John Wrench, Esbjerg

‘Our local, volunteer-run cafe is like the village pump’

Sea Mills is an estate of private and social housing built after the first world war to house an ever-expanding city population. But some areas have few shops and amenities, especially since Bristol city council is keen to shut down our local library.

For the past six years we have come together at the community cafe run out of a converted toilet block on council land, mainly by volunteers. There is good coffee and cake and a great welcome. It’s a bit like the village pump – you can find out what’s going on in the area by chatting to other customers and staff. I go at least three times a week, for the sense of community and to share concerns about the area.

It is also a way to check up on older, more fragile residents. Gladys is 94 years old and comes in most days. She is phoned up if she doesn’t appear. She has a twin sister in Nottingham, and earlier this year one of the volunteers drove her up there for a visit. The cafe is very much part of Sea Mills now – it is a shared space and the area would much poorer without it. Anonymous, Sea Mills, Bristol

‘I would be immeasurably isolated without church’

My partner and I really get to know the communities we live in at our local Anglican churches. As a gay couple, we’ve experienced only welcome and love there, and this has been especially helpful to me as I’m in the process of moving to the area to be with my partner. It’s given me the chance to talk to people I would not have met otherwise, and begun to connect me up with the area I will be living in.

We go to churches in Bagshot and Woking – I’m there three times a week, not only because it satisfies myspiritual side, but because the shared worship and social time connect me powerfully with the people there. The ability to talk to people about real issues in my life has truly been priceless.

There have been many moments of joy and also sharing in others’ pain. To lose these would devastate my life. I do not work due to health issues, but this has given me real purpose and structure. I would be immeasurably isolated without it. Kester Gillard, Surrey

‘I go to the climbing gym for friendships first, fitness second’

Perhaps because rock climbing has historically been fairly niche and a magnet for hippies, the culture of climbing gyms encourages openness. With indoor climbing walls opening all over central London, there has been an explosion of climbers in the city, but the chilled-out vibe hasn’t changed. Bouldering has a low barrier to entry – all you need is a pair of climbing shoes and you’re good to go.

I always find myself chatting to someone if we are working on the same challenge, sharing tips and tricks – or while resting between attempts. The macho-aggressiveness of the gym doesn’t put me off at the climbing wall, because climbing is so unique to one’s own body. Given that I now climb two to three times a week, it is so important that the gym is social. Part of my experience and love of climbing are the friendships I have made – the improvement to my strength and fitness is secondary. Christine, London

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