Parklife

One of the worst things about living in London is the lack of your own garden, or any outside space. My mum spent the first two years of us living here in an almost constant attempt to buy us a tumble dryer, as the lack of outside drying space for our wet clotehes was giving her sleepless nights. Never mind the fact that our flat at this time was so small a tumble dryer would have taken up the entire kitchen space...

But the lack of garden really comes into it's own when the sun comes out, and you have to walk for thirty minutes to the local park, just to be able to sit outside. I did this on Saturday whilst Mr L had a trip to the library (the closed library. By the way, library, putting the fact that you are closed on a Saturday on your website the follwoing Monday doesn't really count as advanced notice, does it?).

I lasted about an hour and a half in the park, before the general public drove me away. I'd taken my radio, and the batteries died, so all I had to listen to was the Gatwick flight path and other people's conversations. The park was pretty empty, and yet a family still managed to come and sit right by me, in all that empty space....Anyway, the little girl of the family had the same name as me. Now, my name isn't that popular, so when I hear it called, my ears always prick up. And to my credit, I sat through "Abby: "sit down", "don't do that", "come here", "would you like a cheese sandwich?", "would you like a chicken wing?", "would you like a ham sandwich?". Listen Park Mum, all that your poor Abby wanted was a bit of peace and quiet.

The final straw came when looking round the park (in a rare moment of non-Abby bossing) Park Mum declared in a very loud voice "Ah! This must be what people did before television was invented!".

I was home in thirty minutes flat.