One Time One Place
Dear friend,
When we were kids, on a Sunday evening for a time, a frenemy of mine Steven and me, we’d scrape together some coppers and maybe some silver, and we’d share a packet of chips from Moss Bay.
It became a ritual for us when we were getting on.
Steven had a big brother who picked on us younger kids, and I wasn’t keen on having the brother around. It seemed unfair to have someone bigger and smarter be so cruel. You never knew when you’d be an object of ridicule, which made us all kind of join in when it was someone else’s turn, just to keep the spotlight off yourself.
I mention it now as I’ve just been to the fish and chip shop off the High Road, The Old Captain. It’s nice in there. You have to wait because they cook everything fresh. A little kid came in with her mum and a friend. They were on the run from a kids’ party, getting chips for everyone. The kid had a little plastic fan you powered by pushing a handle, made to look like an ice cream cone. She showed it to a guy who was waiting, and he was so nice and pleased to be speaking with her it was magic to watch them smiling and grinning — the kid cooling the guy with her plastic ice cream fan. She was so happy about it she had the guy pull over a chair, and she sat down at the table me and the guy were sharing. You got the feeling the conversation was about to get interesting, but her mum and friend were ready to leave.
I sat and watched the traffic navigating round the road closures for the Chris Brown concert at the Spurs stadium. They block off part of the High Road on event days, and for gigs, people drive up to the barriers, drop off their passengers, and do a U-turn back into town.
It’s kind of surreal. All that’s missing is a red carpet.
Before she left, the guy asked the little kid about a piece of technology she had embedded on her arm.
“It’s my sensor,” she says — “It keeps me alive.”
“Oh well, it’s important you look after yourself,” says the guy.
And then she was off back to her party.
Her mum had a bad case of sunburn she got at office drinks last night — wearing a Japanese shawl. She also had on a witch’s hat, starry rainbow Crocs, and a tie-dye summer dress.
We’re all so different.
On the surface at least.
Sometimes you need to dig through a few layers before you find the thing you’ve got in common.
Being sweet and kind to kids — that’s a lovely trait to cultivate.
The way that kid sat down, ready to pow-wow — if she hadn’t had a social engagement, perhaps we’d still be there now.
Kids will tell you the truth. One day, maybe we’ll be better at listening. There’ll be kid councils that have real sway in the decisions that get made at a local and national level. You may say I’m a dreamer, but as the song goes — we’re not the only ones.
It’s such a crazy pleasure, just to sit and be in one time and one place. Isn’t it strange how rare that experience can be, the way we’re pushed and pulled by the halter of our attention?
It’s the simplest pleasure and absolutely free — letting go of the world and letting it be as it is, with all of its unimaginables.
I was late getting to the peace march in town today, and most people had gone home by the time I got there. A family stood on the pavement in Whitehall with a large Palestinian flag. They waited until some armed soldiers opened up the gates that lead to Horse Guards Parade, and a small group of us followed them.
We went to the park, and a young woman improvised a spoken word poem. I took a photo of them before heading home.
To the chip shop. And the Chris Brown fans, who I can hear off in the distance under the wailing of Saturday evening’s emergency vehicle sirens.
I hope your evening is peaceful.
A gull glides high up overhead, the sky a trompe l’oeil.
It can be so beautiful here — when we allow it to be.
Till tomorrow
Love,
Mikey