The garbage man joked around and made me smile as one of the first things this day. One of my neighbours was talking to another one without his teeth in, and although I know he is English I couldn’t understand a word he said. I walked my last morning walk to Victoria Station. I decide to take the slow train to East Croydon. I wave goodbye to Anti Beauty, Clapham Junction, Wandworth Common, Balham, Streatham Common, the guy at Thornthon Heath and 100 years of Passion and Pride at Selhurst. I am close to East Croydon, and I will miss my daily train journey enormously.
But the thoughts that are currently occupying my mind are about something completely different. During my walk to work I saw a little bird hipping around in one of the quiet allies near Vincent Square. It was a young one obviously, his feathers still a bit messy and his flying skills clearly not that well developed yet. I think he fell out of his nest and he was now heartbreakingly tjilping for his mum, to ask her what he was supposed to do with those 2 big things attached to his back. I stopped and watched it, told him that if he wanted to come with me that that would be fine. I told him that I had a pirate at home who would happily look after him and teach him to fly. But he just hipped away, scared of the big human figure I must have seem to him.
I know the laws of nature and the principles of survival of the fittest. I also know that, luckily, I have never really spotted any cats in that area. But this little birdy will fly around in my head for the rest of the day, I’m sure of that. I hope he makes it.