I can't really work out the weather at the moment. We had a stonkingly warm October, and I still haven't worn my winter coat yet. It's a bit of a toss up. Do I overstew on public transport or do I get ever so slightly chilly whilst standing for maybe five minutes at a bus stop?
But that's not unprecedented. Three years ago I was chasing Bush around London wearing my fleece - admittedly my winter coat had gone up in flames, but I didn't feel a pressing need to get a new one; it was actually three years ago next week.
I glanced out of the kitchen window this morning and spotted two roses in the garden. Again, not unusual. In January 1987, one of the coldest and snowiest Januarys in my life, I took a photo of the rose bed outside my hall of residence, petals on the bushes, surrounded by snow. But the roses I saw this morning were buds, poised any day to leap into the full bloom of summer.
I went to Croydon this morning. I tend to think that between here and Croydon lies nothing but urban and suburban scrawl. But there is a peculiarity with the complex web of railway lines that criss-cross South London - amongst them lies scrub land, too neglected even for playing fields and allotments, let alone agriculture or housing. Just greenspace, left to go wild and back to nature.
Between Crystal Palace and Norwood Junction I glanced out of the carriage, across the frost covered fields and saw in the distance, a train snaking away to who knows where*, crossing the border, bringing the cheque and the postal order, letters for the rich, letters for the poor, the shop at the corner and the girl next door. I t was like I was in the country, on a journey of discovery into terrain unknown, anxiety mixed with expectancy. I expect it was just packed with commuters.
But then Norwood Junction turned into the ugly Metropolis that the Manhattan of South London. My meeting was in the staff restaurant on the 19th Floor, but sadly, the mist and mellow fruitfulness hampered my panoramic view of much of North Surrey. Jimmy says that the fog is caused by the smoke of all those bonfires and fireworks that has escaped to the upper atmosphere. I expect it's a butterfly flapping its wings in China
* Victoria or London Bridge, I daresay
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