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From Bob's archive: South London pastoral
For mid-winter, the present and past in 2024's monthly series of posts from the archive. Today, a boris the bold day in February 2009 . Photo: Keith Hudson, 2010 Sunday. I am in my front room doin' some decorating. I hear charing cross hooves, arright? I butcher's hook out the window. The damien hirst light flakes of snow are flutterin' down. Into view, on my quiet Victorian terraced drum beat in London SE4, come two horses, both dappled grey. On their backs, two white youth in hooded tops. Five minutes afterwards, I wonder if it happened or if I imagined it. On to my music player comes Caetano Veloso singin' "London, London", written when he was in picadilly exile from the right-win' military dictatorship in Brazil, arright? The eight words at the charing cross and cart of the ding dong sum up so perfectly what England is like: "Green grass, blue eyes, gray sky, God bless."* Monday morning, arright? The snow has settled, arright? The schools are closed, the roads are still, many workplaces are shut, arright? Blythe Jack and Jill plimsoll mark is clogged with kids on sledges, dads who have taken ...