White Fluffy Clouds
Jun. 8th, 2008 08:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dotintheskyWhen sunshine pours down on London, and it's the weekend, you can find me sprawled on Victoria Park's grass. Today was no different, though it was a special day because ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hester and kevin were there with me. We bought coffee at the cafe that faces Vicky Park's lake then found a spot underneath a tree, not too far away. Hester brought a book on linguistics; I brought yesterday's newspapers; but we spent hours just talking - with the occasional trip to a nearby bagel store. We talked about language, Shakespeare, experiments with monkeys, Lost, crazy cults, religion (mostly the Bible), excentric family members, high school, squirrels, dogs, Oxbridge, funny student essays and flunctuating house prices - not exactly in that order. We felt sorry for Socrates that he had to die before getting to watch Lost. I feel like it was the first time I got to properly hang out and chat with Hester, other than the occasional conversations we'd had before in bars and tea parties.
The sun was still shining when I made my way down to the Palm Tree (that pub smack in the middle of Mile End park) to meet my two brasilian friends, Ricardo and Vini. We bought our pints of lager and found a place to sit outside on the grass. An elderly couple on motorised wheelchairs were playing The Who and eating their dinner from tuperware boxes propped on the wheelchairs' consoles. A group of circus malabaristas had stretched a rope from one tree to the next and kept trying to walk the length of it without falling. Ricardo opened his shirt and showed me his trimmed chest hair. He's got a new boyfriend - an Australian boy. Vini stared at a dark and handsome boy sitting nearby with his girlfriend. I blew my hay fever into a million tissues from the Palm Tree's gents and left once my pint was over because I couldn't take the floating pollen anymore.
hester and kevin were there with me. We bought coffee at the cafe that faces Vicky Park's lake then found a spot underneath a tree, not too far away. Hester brought a book on linguistics; I brought yesterday's newspapers; but we spent hours just talking - with the occasional trip to a nearby bagel store. We talked about language, Shakespeare, experiments with monkeys, Lost, crazy cults, religion (mostly the Bible), excentric family members, high school, squirrels, dogs, Oxbridge, funny student essays and flunctuating house prices - not exactly in that order. We felt sorry for Socrates that he had to die before getting to watch Lost. I feel like it was the first time I got to properly hang out and chat with Hester, other than the occasional conversations we'd had before in bars and tea parties.The sun was still shining when I made my way down to the Palm Tree (that pub smack in the middle of Mile End park) to meet my two brasilian friends, Ricardo and Vini. We bought our pints of lager and found a place to sit outside on the grass. An elderly couple on motorised wheelchairs were playing The Who and eating their dinner from tuperware boxes propped on the wheelchairs' consoles. A group of circus malabaristas had stretched a rope from one tree to the next and kept trying to walk the length of it without falling. Ricardo opened his shirt and showed me his trimmed chest hair. He's got a new boyfriend - an Australian boy. Vini stared at a dark and handsome boy sitting nearby with his girlfriend. I blew my hay fever into a million tissues from the Palm Tree's gents and left once my pint was over because I couldn't take the floating pollen anymore.
