An eventful day in Brixton today. Groggy and hoarse after a boozy night at a very loud bar where dozens of our wonderful friends came to say their farewells to us, I wasn't so hungover that I couldn't attempt a gentle run round the park. So off I went, legs just a bit wobbly, stomach fine, but before I had even reached the bottom of the road I was startled to be greeted by unusually large (even for Brixton on a Saturday) crowds of people, cordoned off roads, police and then as if from nowhere, the extraordinary vision and oral ambush that was George Galloway a-top his moving, singing, multi-coloured Respect bus chanting over Aretha Franklin for pity's sake!!
'Hilarious!' I thought. 'The cheesiest most incongruous thing ever', I muttered, pushing my way through the pedestrians and round the police tape, wondering why such security was necessary for Galloway, a politician I abhor and admire in almost equal measure, if that's possible.
Then I saw the real news of the day, a large fire on Brixton Road, right in front of the tube station! Smoke was billowing out high above the houses and the smell of burning rubber and plastic filled the air. The road was flowing with water, presumably from the fire brigade's pumps and it seemed to be causing transport chaos, plus everyone was stopping to have a good look. Fortunately nobody was injured - crazy!
I really should start taking my camera out with me! Ric just doesn't believe the things I tell him when I get back from my weekend runs.
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