notes from a newsroom

This was originally posted on Friday 18th but somehow it jumped offline over the weekend…

Ah! I love London in the spring time.

My walk to work takes me down past the ghettoised drunkards on Harrow Road, up through the chic cool haze of fashionable Ledbury Road and past the stunning whitewashed Regency splendour of Dawson Place in full blossom regalia.

And, this morning, through the cloying all-pervading smell of industrial mainure.

It transpires that the low-lying fug over London today has indeed been swept our way by the efficient and mirthful South Easterlies. The Met office has confirmed that a characterful little piece of France has settled above London and the smell, like our attention and gaze of interest, will soon wander elsewhere.

So, whilst those farmers in France plough their perfectly fertilised soil, readying their pockets of the continent for the summer crop, the suits in London panic and assume biological warfare has finally hit the capital. Oh how far we have all distanced ourselves from the land that surrounds us, the grains and vegetables that nourish us and the realities of modern production.

It’s good to know that at least the air we breathe is not packaged in a protective atmosphere.