Vicky's Icicle

Victoria Park's lake is frozen. Seagulls swoop down on bread crumbs cast by toddlers and skid on the ice; most have congregated in the middle, by the fountain, where they can marvel at their own powers of walking on water. The ducks, coots and swans are nowhere to be seen. The cranes perch on the highest branches, their beaks raised to the sky. A pair of joggers tap their feet on the water's edge, gently cracking the surface. I've got a tall cappuccino and it's a Friday.