Ollie (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
commonpeople1) wrote2011-04-25 06:30 pm
commonpeople1) wrote2011-04-25 06:30 pm
Entry tags:
Don't Cry for Me London
This walk through Victoria and Mile End Parks brought us to a shaded bench facing a small water feature. Two nearby men lie in the sun; one of them sleeps with his head resting on a sofa cushion, a bottle with red squash by his side.
London competes with its own parks: sirens and pigeon coos, cigarette smoke and flower scents, lush trees and apartment blocks, cloudless blue skies and small wind turbines, black coots and boys shouting a game.
After this brief writing exercise we'll buy (veggie) burger buns and antihistamines. We'll celebrate the end of this sunny Easter weekend with popcorn and Game of Thrones' second episode. We'll listen to music and step out onto our balcony like English Evita Perons.
On the way back home, a cyclist is knocked off his bike on Mile End Road. The driver stands by her car redirecting traffic while bystanders make sure he doesn't move his head. An ambulance squeals down the wrong direction. All drivers slow down to take a gooooooood looooooong look. Hoping for a bit of blood on Jesus' ressurection day?
I'm no better: I text![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
neenaw asking if she was the one who sent the ambulance. Nope, she replies, it's not her area and she's off work. (I also forgot, again, that she no longer sends ambulances.)
All pharmacies are closed and I resign myself to only getting my precious antihistamines tomorrow.
London competes with its own parks: sirens and pigeon coos, cigarette smoke and flower scents, lush trees and apartment blocks, cloudless blue skies and small wind turbines, black coots and boys shouting a game.
After this brief writing exercise we'll buy (veggie) burger buns and antihistamines. We'll celebrate the end of this sunny Easter weekend with popcorn and Game of Thrones' second episode. We'll listen to music and step out onto our balcony like English Evita Perons.
On the way back home, a cyclist is knocked off his bike on Mile End Road. The driver stands by her car redirecting traffic while bystanders make sure he doesn't move his head. An ambulance squeals down the wrong direction. All drivers slow down to take a gooooooood looooooong look. Hoping for a bit of blood on Jesus' ressurection day?
I'm no better: I text
neenaw asking if she was the one who sent the ambulance. Nope, she replies, it's not her area and she's off work. (I also forgot, again, that she no longer sends ambulances.)All pharmacies are closed and I resign myself to only getting my precious antihistamines tomorrow.