 |
London Eye
(Published in The Frogmore Papers, April 2003)
I loved the London Eye so much I came again at night.
I hired a pod for me and my friends. We rose by slow degrees, each point stilled in space. The sky was clear as if a huge balloon had burst and released mountain air.
The great Thames swanked under the late-evening sun. Pleasure boats rocked gently, seagulls dipped their wings like celebrants at mass. The angled rays of the sun threaded silver streamers between puffs of waves on the river.
As we rose towards our zenith we babbled and drank champagne. From behind St Paul's, London became inflamed with a red glow that coloured all the boats that floated in the river towards Chelsea.
Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
We watched the Thames curling in the west towards its source in Gloucestershire.
We walked in step to the other side of the pod and looked east. The winding river danced round the docks and the water tumbled up in loops and spurts. The water from both banks of the river formed an arch like the joined arms of ballet dancers.
Further east, at the far end, the Thames curled up in a fiery whirlwind. The rest of the river followed like the tail of a serpent. The river became a huge, watery ball until it circled the London Eye, trout, chub and pike poking through the waves, cruisers and barges turning with the greatest pleasure.
We finished our champagne. No one spoke. But I'm sure we all thought that this would be better than work tomorrow.
| |
|
