Once I was actually deeper inside the park, I was amazed to realize I was getting flashbacks to walking through the woods in Carp. I think it was one of those very broad mnemonic connections, a brief joining between the base elements laying underneath each (water, woods, lack of buildings, calm). Yes, a lack of buildings - seemingly. There aren't too many points in the park where you can get that impression, of course, but I was lucky enough to stumble into a couple and to get that sensation while logically knowing I was in the heart of one of the worlds largest cities...it was a little thrilling for someone so used to thinking of isolation within nature and cities as being mutually exclusive from each other.
Now, Hyde Park had a few Swan in its waters but I wouldn't say it had a strong body of wildlife. St. James park does, though, a tradition that goes back about 360 years. Several small areas are enclosed for the express use of the large variety of birds. There was even a private little cottage for whoever tends to the birds, something I couldn't help envying with an intensity that would register on a Geiger counter. I wish I'd gotten more pictures of the animals, but there was just too much to photograph - I guess I should look into one of those memory sticks for my camera, so I can clutter my hard drive with several hojillion pictures that I'll never print!
About a thirdways into the park, I made a little lie to myself that I would repeat a couple more times over my time there. "I'll just look at a little more, walk a little more, then I'll grab a bench and write".
Sounds like typical procrastination, I know! But I'm still pumped about this Parkour/sci-fi script - it's just that park repeatedly flooded me with a sense of awe. This was probably enhanced by the contrast between where I'd come from (Islington: Cheap chicken shops, concrete almost everywhere, occasional stray chav wandering down from Seven Sisters) and where I was (Centuries of tradition, monuments to what a few million pounds worth of landscaping can do, tourists from all corners of the globe). Eventually I came to what is easily the most grandiose monument in the city. Oh sure, Lord Nelson's Column might be a bit taller but Queen Victoria the second still wins, this oddball competition I've been holding in my head, by a landslide.
Getting up close I couldn't help but be briefly bought back to the throne of Xerxes in 300. If the giant, stone Queen Victoria and her throne suddenly began to move across the countryside while carried by several dozen slaves - probably recent uni grads - I can't say as I'd feel like fighting her, let alone her army!
That scrap of building you can see behind it is, in fact, good old Buckingham palace. From here I turned right and went around the locked and gilded gates into the northern most portion of the park.
I remember thinking to myself "Hot damn, okay, it's not like they'll have another Queen Victoria monument. I should be able to grab a snack and a seat, then write". I managed the first two, but I just couldn't lose that need to draw in as much of the park through my eyes as I could! The following picture is almost certainly going to be the subject of my next watercolour painting.
After a relaxing sit n' stare, I decided to leave the park and found myself in the Picadilly area. I spotted two arcades, Picadilly and Brunell, across from each other. As some of you know, really expensive tailors are basically pornography for me - so I had a look.
Yup, I am definitely getting a custom tailored suit the first time that I ever make some real money out of film. Sure you could put the cost towards a car, but my suit will (probably) do a lot less damage to the environment and it won't depreciate in value the second I wear it out of the store. As I'd suspected, these arcades were about as upscale as it gets before you reach that plateau of secret celebrity stores which you sometimes hear about. Still, it was fun to look. Amongst the suits and sweaters which cost more than a month of my rent there was a very pricey fountain pen store (anybody want to sponsor my purchase of a 1928 blue metallic fountain pen? Only eighty quid!), a gaming store which seemed out of place even if it only sold older and more respectable (?) board games and the terribly named but terribly interesting "Map World" where one could spend a grand on an original Royal Navy map of the Mediterranean, circa 1748.Rallying, I decided to head back to the park and prove that I could overcome the henious forces of beauty and relaxation to do some writing. But I lost this second battle as well! Sitting on a bench and looking about me, enjoying the warmth and the sights, I couldn't help but think back to what I said on Monday. Why couldn't I just stop and enjoy where I was, the moment I as in, without feeling that unless I was plowing away at some task then the moment wasn't being properly utilized? Sheeeesh. I mean, hell, I'd even written a few pages on the tube ride down! So I tried to live Slow and felt all the better for it. At the end of the day I felt like I'd gotten my proper allowance of time, not an all too quick montage of attending to this n' that. I'm a little miffed that the park also obliterated all thoughts regarding my purchase of a printer/scanner, but, somehow, I have faith that the consumer electronics industry will still be around in the days to come.
Today it's sunny out again and I have some of the mundane that needs to be done (laundry, buy a new monthly rail/tube pass, take out the recycling) as well as some of the creative (more script work etc) and I'm going to see if I can still get everything done that I want to get done without that feeling of being pushed along a track. Here's hopin'!
Finally, a little hello to my new readers in New Zealand - thanks for sticking with me guys! Also, hello to the people from all over the world who keep finding my blog by accidentally typing "I heart fuckabees" into google. Unless it isn't an accident? Somehow I have trouble imagining that a lot of the metaphysical, philospohical waxings of the original text could find a home in a pornographic adaptation.
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3 comments:
Photo composition is improving :-)
They have Canada geese in England? Perhaps Candian geese were orginally British geese, just as we once were? ;P
It's a fun idea, for sure, but I reckon they were either imported or flew there naturally. Despite the name, you can find those guys all over the world - in fact, my relatives in Australia tell me they are viewed as a huge pain in the ass!
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