Richard Butchins's Blog: Angels stand corrected... - Posts Tagged "nothing"
A tiny bit of book.....
it's all true......perhaps
The sun glints off the dirty green water. It’s not deep, maybe five or six feet at best, perhaps less. It had been cleared of most of its underwater junk in the 1980s and it’s usable.
There are basins where narrowboats are permanently parked up with people living on them, a fantasy of a bohemian travelling life complete with broadband and satellite communications, never far from the upmarket restaurants, bars and clubs of the city. The grimy warehouses of the past have been removed and replaced by luxury new-build apartments or reconditioned into slick, feel poor, live rich, lo-fi, hi-tech, media villages.
Nothing is left of the industry that caused the canal to come into existence in the first place. The tall new white buildings alongside the canal are topped with penthouse apartments that gaze down at the old canal.Through the floor-to- ceiling glass windows, I can see little people, like figures on a wedding cake.
I snake along the path, nobody noticing me. I hug the walls and dart under the bridges. I am not in a hurry. It’s just the way I walk: fast, urgent and with purpose, even though I have none.
The sun glints off the dirty green water. It’s not deep, maybe five or six feet at best, perhaps less. It had been cleared of most of its underwater junk in the 1980s and it’s usable.
There are basins where narrowboats are permanently parked up with people living on them, a fantasy of a bohemian travelling life complete with broadband and satellite communications, never far from the upmarket restaurants, bars and clubs of the city. The grimy warehouses of the past have been removed and replaced by luxury new-build apartments or reconditioned into slick, feel poor, live rich, lo-fi, hi-tech, media villages.
Nothing is left of the industry that caused the canal to come into existence in the first place. The tall new white buildings alongside the canal are topped with penthouse apartments that gaze down at the old canal.Through the floor-to- ceiling glass windows, I can see little people, like figures on a wedding cake.
I snake along the path, nobody noticing me. I hug the walls and dart under the bridges. I am not in a hurry. It’s just the way I walk: fast, urgent and with purpose, even though I have none.
Angels stand corrected...
I have to have a blog...the site told me, my publisher told me, my publicist told me, and even my turkish barber told me, as he was administering the finest of close shaves. So I thought I had better
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