Gertsamtkunstwerk

Waiting for rain

The atmosphere has been stuffy and sultry all day. Sweatingly hot but no sign of the sun. Wearing only tee-shirt and shorts, with the back door open, just doing the washing up made me sweat. It's normally the thought of doing it that makes me sweat.

For days the weather bods have been predicting thunder storms for Sunday. Thunder storms and flash floods. Great, I thought, nothing beats a thunder storm for clearing the air and freshening the earth. It rained lightly and briefly this morning. It soon dried.

I could smell the electricity hanging in the listless air. Great, I thought, I'm going to watch this.

The day waited for night to fall - which happens jolly late this time of year - and a few minutes ago it began to drizzle. Drizzle is no good. I want Donner und Blitzen, I want the elements colliding in a meteorological spectacular.

I feel cheated.

Phew what a scorcher!

Spent the last couple of days out and about. On Saturday we decided to head out for Dulwich Park, on the basis that neither of us had ever been there. En route we say signs for Dulwich Country Fayre (sic) so thought we would investigate. We were sent onto Gallery Road, where we could park. Jimmy commented that it was a bit of inspiration to build an Art Gallery on Gallery Road...

We strolled past Belair House and thought we would investigate the grounds. Very tranquil.

We carried on down the road, and cut through the Sports Ground whereupon we came across Dulwich Park, venue of the Dulwich Country Fayre. We spent a couple of hours there. It seemed pretty standard summer fair - a funfair, on which we didn't venture because my dearly beloved doesn't like going round and round, let alone up and down and upside down. There was a farmers' market winding down as we arrived, various craft and commercial stalls, food, drink the usual. The entertainment didn't seem to be on the scale of Lambeth Country Show, which usually has displays from the military, Sealed Knot etc.

I took quite a few photos. The one I didn't take which I wanted to was of a man I kept seeing. He was tall, black, dressed to match a stereotype of a gangster, bling-bling included. He walked around carrying a semi-automatic gun. It would have looked quite intimidating if it hadn't been purple and yellow plastic and designed for blowing bubbles!

Have you seen the weather?

At this precise moment it's binning it sideways thanks to a strong North Westerly. If this continues the waste stack at the back house ain't going to last long.

Dear dear what a shame

Transport meltdown in snow . Sometimes I get slightly irritated by people - colleagues, generally - who say "ooh, I couldn't live in London." I get really riled by the Smug Gits who think that because Brixton is known for shootings and drug addicts, and ssshh, don't mention it, you know, different people. And they talk about "Quality of Life" in their Middle England idyll.

Sometimes I just gloat. Problems getting home? Nah, not me. Gridlock? Never noticed. Tubes not running? Victoria Line's underground. I travelled by South London metro. Overground. Crosses a couple of commons, but it's all very urban. Okay, it was delayed for ten minutes by a signal failure at Gateway-to-the-South. But that's normal! Dedum dedum dedum.

Note to self: Never ever move to Middle England.