image: dhammza
“Her skirt snaps in the wind like a flag.”
The land is flat, she likes it, it conceals nothing behind suspicious hills. Her skirt snaps in the wind like a flag, a jaunty semaphore sending messages without translation. She can smell the river, its stately parade just a hundred yards away. He kissed her here, and left her, turning right into the tube station, stopping - turning, holding his hand to his lips and blowing her a kiss with the same hand that had poached eggs for breakfast and earlier had dug inside her like an archaeologist seeking obsolete treasure. At the moment of the kiss, she crossed her fingers behind her back, mere superstition, but what is superstition but the warding-off of fate? She took a step back, forwards to her completed life, further away from here. Here, the grotty park behind her, the Tavern[1] - its punters spilled out in the sunshine, glass bottles clutched in grubby fists like small children holding sweeties; the trains passing overhead shuddering westwards, cars stop and start at the lights, people. She stood watching, his kiss - a perfect dark - shadowing her lips. None of this real, the landscape an elaborate backdrop, painted in for her.
referenced works
- The Royal Vauxhall Tavern is London’s longest-surviving gay venue, famous for its cabaret and club nights since the Second World War, and the place that launched the careers of such legends as Hinge and Bracket, Diana Dors and Lily Savage. Don’t stumble in expecting a quiet drink, though, the outside is deceptively sedate-looking. ↩
location information
- Name: Spring Gardens
- Address: The gate of Spring Gardens, by the Vauxhall Tavern, Vauxhall
- Time of story: Afternoon
- Latitude: 51.48654078832186
- Longitude: -0.11941194534301758
- Map: Google Maps
020 “There’s not going to be enough pavement to go around.”
019 “Then our eyes flicked back together again, and a tear was gathering on her cheek.”
018 “One of them shot me 'die hippy' neon rays from under his star-shaped glasses.”
017 “I often wonder how many of those photographs I have popped up on.”
016 “'Thank you, London!' cries possibly-famous scruffy lead singer.”
015 “Around us, drivers beep their horns and pedestrians trample on my clean jumpers and skirts.”
014 “No chance for bloomers and wigs to outnumber tracksuits - we were on our own.”
013 “Then the unthinkable had happened. We met and became ‘friends’.”
012 “Nothing is forever, to live is to suffer, please give generously.”
011 “The taste is salt water, and the rubbery texture never-ending.”
010 “I pressed the side of my hand to my forehead, pointlessly.”
009 “His voice falters, but refuses to capsize.”
008 “A hollow understanding of togetherness wrapped around everyone.”
007 “In amongst the railway arches and Victorian masonry, the dead spaces remain intact.”
006 “A big scruffy bloke began watching.”
005 “Why did I feel so warm and fuzzy inside?”
004 “I smiled and nodded in an informed and knowledgeable way.”
003 “Bobo-the-hobo, swag, mighty mezz. It's all there right in front.”
002 “To my shame, I realise I am crying.”
001 “Her skirt snaps in the wind like a flag.”
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