Walknotes

Monday 

Is it dangerous to Miracle Whip and drive? The spent canisters (nitrous oxide) have been dropped from a window passenger-side, and sit heavily in the mud of the kerb. It’s probably dangerous if someone lobs a canister at you from a moving vehicle but they’d need to put the effort in. They’re big and quite a weight. 

I saw these canisters yesterday, so today I litter pick. On the walk down the road I pick up five in total and leave them by various bins en route. I don’t put them in because the bags inside aren’t quite big enough or that strong. There’s enough issues getting the bags out intact without adding extra weight, but… “Morning, thanks for doing that!”… moments later, thunk, thunk. Someone thinks I’ve missed them and they’re doing me a favour. They’ve dropped them in the bin. I crush another drinks can and try not to grimace.

There’s been some kind of scorched earth policy since I was here last. All the wildflowers and plants have gone and bare earth remains. 

Later 

It’s still light when we leave band. The sky is a deep inky blue. Things that are usual at this time of the year keep catching me by surprise. It’s the summer solstice on Thursday and we’ve barely left the spring weather behind. My body clock is still all out of whack.

Tuesday

07:27:50am and five of us stop dead in our tracks to watch the 7:28am depart. I take off my jacket and wait 15 minutes and 10 seconds for the next one.

At London Bridge I’m 53rd in the queue, and I had to walk down a side street to get in position. But the queue moves faster than expected and it doesn’t take long to get a seat on the top deck. On Bishopsgate another bus draws parallel and I read a sticker that says ‘I’m an electric bus’. The sticker is positioned in such a way that it can only be read clearly at this elevated height.  

I wonder briefly what the world would be like if everything declared itself with a sticker.

I am a building. 

I am a road. 

I am a traffic light. 

Perhaps it would make it easier for people to learn English? But how would you know if it was referring to the thing as a whole – a building – or its constituent parts – a brick? You’d need symbols too. I abandon the idea while I try to decipher whether the person next to me should be labelled ‘I am getting off at Liverpool Street’, which would mean I need to move. 

Wednesday 

Some days your feet know where to go even when your head can’t make up its mind. I think I’m going to the other wood, but instead walk up to the church and say hello to the residents of the yard as I pass through. They’re sleeping, as always.

The field behind is full of tall pink-tinted grasses now, which travel in waves with the breeze. The colour is so rich that if you look for long enough you can almost convince yourself the sun is shining. I walk to the stile and pause. The horses have returned and one is waiting on the other side. 

A quick look behind me and I wonder if I should turn back, but I’ve come so far. I ask the horse if he’ll be long – his mouth is full and he doesn’t reply. I wait while he finishes and watch until he finally plods away. Then I risk it and climb the stile. I keep to my side of the field and hope he, and the rest of them, stick to theirs.

A  woman puts her dog on a lead as she approaches. I say you don’t know how brave I’ve been, and she says “oh no!” and tells me how much she loves horses. When she starts to go she turns back. “Hey! If you ever get scared you just have to do this” she spreads her arms wide and waves her hands. 

Instead of heading to the silent wood I walk down through the field and it’s magic. Papery red poppies are out and tall clovers – sepia-pink at the bottom and faded white on top. In between are bright pink sainfoin (which took far too long to identify), and scented mayweed with all their white petals pushed back. Overhead a skylark hovers as it sings.

Thursday 

Summer solstice.

Unexpected sunshine. It’s hard to know whether to read a book or watch the bright world whiz by. The train is full yet quiet. No one is on the phone, no one is listening to music or soothing a child and none of us are friends.

I’m early so I walk from London Bridge to the office. On the bridge there’s a breeze but in the city there’s a sudden directional heat. It takes a moment to realise it’s the sun, bouncing off tall glass buildings. 

Everything looks higher resolution than normal and all the edges seem sharper. 

Friday

A woman is walking ahead of me. I watch as another woman passes her and says good morning. The first woman stops and turns. She calls to the second woman: “Excuse me! Can I just say that is such a pretty top!” The other woman stops too, “Well! That is a very pretty dress!”

I keep on walking but I could hug them both.

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Other things

• Out of curiosity I looked for the first post I’d written about horses. Looks like those horses have been stressing me out since 2 February, 2022 (when I was posting on Tumblr, hence the end bit).
• ‘There is nothing to write about’ – a post from Nick Cave, on meeting Brian Ferry, who, at that point, hadn’t written a song in three years. Unexpectedly melancholy.
• Blackcurrants are ready, the gooseberries are delicious.