A look at life's quirkiness through a jaundiced eye and a mind open to all except that to which it's hermetically sealed...
Monday, 9 August 2010
Congestion on the South Bank
The poor old South Bank; a recipe for carnage. First of all fill the pot with thousands of tourists who are in no particular hurry to get no place in particular; add to this pedestrian Londoners on their way to work, or someplace particularly; throw in a few skateboarders heading for their spot in the Queen Elizabeth Hall’s undercroft; sprinkle around a score or more of those painted idol-curios who though standing still draw the attention of the idle-curious; into this mess of potage throw dozens of red-faced panting sweating joggers; and, then drizzle the whole thing with a few hundred cyclists...oh, and me in my wheelchair being walked over by Tommy tourist as he takes just one more step backwards in his quest to get all seventeen of his party into the shot with the man dressed as a something-or-other and painted slate grey!
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