Sunshine in the Brain

Crowds walk up and down the South Bank, a prelude to the Summer. The warm sun touches everything. Boat horns. Pigeons. A duck lies on the thin strip of sand by the Thames. Spotty teenagers from France carry backpacks and mementos. Gay couples size me up, horned out on Spring Fever. The elderly arrive for the matinee show of The Rose Tattoo, at the National Theatre.

This morning, on a side street close to the Mile End tube station, a woman slammed a guy with her red bag. She shoved him against her car; he shoved her back. Screams. Shouts. They were both in their 20s. Their relationship most definitely coming to an end this morning (lovers? housemates? siblings?) 'Give me the keys,' she said. 'No. I want to get my bag in the car,' he said. She was shaking. 'You fucking bastard. You fucking bastard,' he called her. I thought about calling the police, intervening. Others must have thought the same; but we just kept walking, unnerved.

A long weekend. Predicted warmth and clear skies. Potential visits to the park, art galleries, bookshops, cinemas, coffee shops -- my schedule open and flexible.

Let's begin to live our lives
I want to see all my friends tonight
~ Morrissey