'The Other #1'

In his grey slacks, t-shirt and baseball cap, he presents a curious sight. On the periphery looking in, he drinks in the scene as children frolic, their parents peppered about like landmines.

Dare he?

He moves into their midst and sits, watches; attempting to interpret the preoccupations of people smaller but wiser than he. The kids sense him and do not engage; neither does he, watching, til he is escorted away by two security guards.

As he decamps, he punches himself in the mouth twice and then bites his fist; swerving away from randomly positioned pushchairs, ironically reflecting his own private minefield of delight and despair.

The children, ruthlessly innocent, play on.

Observed at the Royal Festival Hall, Sunday 12^th June 2011

Untitled reflection #1

When I was a child, my brother possessed an album of commercial airline logos. Being the darling pain that baby brothers usually are, I regularly pestered him to show them to me; to share his life with me.

Like my brother before me, I didn't fly until I was nine years old. Little did I know that it would be the first of many flights, and would take me far, far away from where I wanted to be, and who I wanted to be with. Years later, I am still trying to find my way home.

We moved house in 1979, but the album of the World's airlines took a different flight path. I often think of that album as I drift away at thirty-six thousand feet.