Last weekend I popped down to London to do some secret stuff. The secret stuff finished a little earlier than anticipated and I found myself in Paddington on Saturday afternoon, at a loose end. So, what I decided to do, was walk.

First I found a map in the street. Then I started heading south.

I like walking. I’ve been doing a lot of it over the past couple of months. Usually I walk in and out of Mansfield. Occasionally Nottingham. But this was walking in London. Walking in London is different. It’s better. I don’t want to be all oooooh London, but … it’s just more interesting than most other cities in this country. There’s just a lot more going on.

So as I walked, I looked and I listened and I thought about stuff.

I walked through Hyde Park.

Naturally, for the first summery Saturday of the year, Hyde Park was packed with people. All kinds of people, enjoying the sun, enjoying each other. Friends and families. Lots of couples. Naturally. And naturally, it made me feel a little yearnsome. It has been a while. A very long while since I’ve actually been involved with anyone.

But the yearning isn’t as barbed and bitter as it used to be. I’m sure this is due in part to the fact that my libido is no longer the trapped angry hornet it used to be, but also due to the fact that I’m a little better at being alive these days.

Then I walked through Knightsbridge, and saw the rich people. Great, golden gangs of them.

gold

Immaculate, exotic people, some of them with their kids, streaming out of ridiculous hotels and into ridiculous cars.

Again, there were a few pangs. Not just for the glamorous women with whom I suspect I would have had very little conversation in common, but for the money.

I’d still like to have money. I’m convinced I could do some pretty impeccable things with it.

I believe my pace may have quickened at these thoughts, for I have things to do. I have plans. I need to get a move on.

Then I saw this car:

obscenity

And I thought, no matter how much money the owner of this car gives to charity, no matter how much joy his money brings to other people, this car is a fucking obscenity.

Then I kept walking, heading south.

 

 

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I am Karl Webster. I wrote these words. If you liked them, you'll be overjoyed to know that there are plenty more where they came from. So you should definitely sign up to my newsletter if you haven't already.

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