Drought London Will Be Drowned

In J.G. Ballard's The Drowned World, a small group of people, living in a world where solar flares have melted the ice caps and submerged most of civilization, decide to forsake the safety of humanity's last outpost in the Artic for a life in an increasingly dangerous London. They live in the few buildings still poking out of the water, overlooking lagoons festering with crocodiles and iguanas, barely able to survive the heat that strikes during the day. At fist, they have a military helicopter to contend with, with its mission to drag them to the Artic's safety; later, as the promise of the southern rains never arrive, and the heat pushes them into day-long somnolence, it's only the noise of an airplane, or the snap of a crocodile's jaws, that can break through to them. They share a common reoccuring nightmare, which saps their energy during the day with its beat inside their heads...

And that pretty much sums up my experience of living in Mile End for the past few weeks. Kevin and I, up on our 11th floor apartment, can look down on a drowsy London hit by an ongoing heatwave. Our sleep is broken by police helicopters, sirens or the teenage hoodlums prowling the streets and canals that circle us. Women at night get attacked in Mile End's park, dragged into the bushes as if they had been ambushed by hungry crocodiles (and I have to, during the day, read the news and assimilate the danger levels of my new neighbourhood). The promised rain never arrives and ongoing nightmares have a hold on me throughout the day. The pigeons that made a nest in our balcony are like the bats that populate Ballard's futuristic London, creatures no longer scared of trespassing our homes.

We've had a break in the heatwave--it's currently in the mid 20s, with a nice cool breeze and an overcast sky. But the forecast is for the extreme weather in America to travel the Atlantic and reach us soon. In the meantime, I've been downing antihistamine pills daily and making my way through drowsy days as best as possible. When I cross the bridge that connects Embankment to the South Bank, I sometimes stop and wonder what it would be like to see the Thames rise, swallow everything around us, and leave only St. Paul Cathedral's dome shining above the water. I think the ducks would still float by, and the seagulls would find new homes for their nests.