I’ve recently been reading Wild Ducks Flying Backwards; a collection of old articles, poems and short stories written by one of my favourite writers ever – Tom Robbins. It occurred to me that whilst I admit there is not the same international interest in my own historical musings, I did have an old blog on MySpace that was worth investigation – it was slim pickings but here’s the edited highlights:
Some mornings before work I cycle around Cannon Hill Park, Birmingham – there are lots of people doing things there too. I ride my nice silver bike – she’s called Pixie – it’s a long and not particularly interesting story involving Frank Black. I try to smile at people and sometimes say hello but I have those headphones that stick right in your ear and so I’m a bit worried about my volume control.
There’s a nice old Indian man who walks round in the opposite direction to me cycling – he always waves and smiles the first time – but doesn’t after that – I think that’s fair – we don’t want things to become awkward.
I saw a rat pretending to be a squirrel the other morning – his tail gave him away.
There’s some boys who do either some sort of martial art training or intense tree-hugging – I can’t work out what it is exactly but they seem to be using the trunk of the tree as a shadow boxing partner – if anybody knows – please tell me! [nobody did]
Couldn’t go out today – too wet and miserable – I know that if I was any kind of hardcore cyclist – a bit of water wouldn’t put me off – but I’m not so I didn’t.
Not to state the bleeding obvious but sunny Sunday afternoons are very different from dreary Tuesday mornings. At Cannon Hill Park it’s all bright and colourful and full of happy people doing family things; there were no mozzies sticking to my teeth or flying up my nose, some nice people played music in the bandstand, a huge crowd of exceptionally organised pic-nicers dined out, couples strolled about holding hands. Plus people played cricket with varying degrees of skill – even one family that ventured onto the red-gras area – I’m guessing they were looking to add a little spice of gravelly danger to their afternoon – either that or very confident of their powers of staying upright.
I had a little look round the leafy streets of Edgbaston before hitting the park today. I heard that’s the area in Birmingham with the highest number of house break-ins – that’s a shame for the people who live there but I think if I was a cat/more expensive things burglar I’d head for there.