Taking a break from the inferno-hot, sweating pig on a summers day-smelly, angry commuter/ meandering tourist-dodging, consistently red traffic light-interrupted, overwhelmingly claustrophobic skyscraper-lined, DNA sculpture-finding routes of the last few days, I meandered on down to the sweeter air and open spaces of Victoria Park for today's exertions.
The park is not without it's own challenges. I was bitten by a lady bird, danced the Riverdance around a happy and absolutely daft dog, and narrowly avoided treading on a dead squirrel, all within 30 seconds. Then a rain shower appeared from no where, soaking everyone with the same effectiveness as a power shower.
Refreshed by this unexpected wash, I completed 10 miles in ever decreasing circles around the park, making some new discoveries (a new lake, an English garden, another lake, one of those funny water features, that looks just like a few wet paving stones, but which bursts into the air at unexpected times, soaking all those within 10 feet).
All very nice. Then I returned to the canal path to return home, where the lycra-clad cyclist commuters rule the roost, who commute a the speed of light, knocking lesser species, such as those travelling by foot (walkers/ runners/ small fluffy dogs), into the canal in their wake, and was quickly reminded that this is still London, and I need to get back to fighting for my place amongst things.
Fired up, I returned home, had a strong coffee, and thought long and hard about what my place amongst things might actually be. I came to no conclusion, and spent the rest of the day feeling insignificant and a bit pointless.
Then I watched some of Wimbledon, and looked at all the pointless things going on there, and felt a bit better. If this sounds like I am slagging off Wimbledon, you misunderstand me, I love this stuff. Can't get enough of it. Two weeks of British Summer are spent blissfully watching balls bounce back and forth, at the expense of all other usual daily activities (i.e. work). But there are some things that I wonder about. Why do players have people specifically to hold an umbrella for them? Can't they get one of those ones form a beer garden that stands up itself? And I'm particularly concerned about the young people who have to hold the players sweaty towels. Can you imagine, just for a moment, if that was your job? I get that these are The Greats of tennis, and to be within 2 feet of them would just be like completely, like, wow. But handling their dirty laundry? I do wonder about that.
Stats
Total days: 67
Total miles: 710.65 miles
No comments:
Post a Comment