No veggie brioches, had to contend with bacon.
Nondescript hotel, plush levels, carpeted floors, corporate sign boards lighting the way, pretend-friendlies with proclaiming hearts , the mass-welcoming of Dr X. We are all the same. Me and the five dwarves- five men and me, all shades of old world and brown crinkly skin. The one with the stiletto moustache, who fought in Sadam's army; the quiet African and the geriatric imp-twins, white haired nostrils and ears, riotous, emphatic out-liers,. All but one- the new friend who carried my colours while I battled the potbellied trainer/intruder; he and his " weak women and strong men". Nobody blinked till I spoke. Female Challenger charging his white bellied certainty as it hung over his belt; mock bearded privilege stretching all the way to his power point. This is 2018 for God sake! After, when it was over, after the heat had been shed and the blood had been spilt, reflected on, fed back and rated; new friend took me to the bus stop, called me a tourist, and put me on the no 10. Oxford street, where on certain days experience means more than flimsy shoes, and those experiences lead to a sun trap by the sea; except it wasn't sea, it was swans and ice-creams wrapped in bright smiles and peddleboats; and an enthusiastic engineering German, who said he like the way I read; kerouac on a suit case, or was it the way I sat?. " I need something like that" he said. I suggested Hot Yoga..But clocks rang, all the way to the top of the park, past the woman of the stripped top and brown wedged shoes, the very one I'd seen earlier on in the day in a city of how many millions? This was more than speed and lights and suitcase pulling, even as I made it to the track and gave my dinner away, all the while waiting for a little magic train that was losing it's way. MB
.
