w.atching the w.orld unw.ind

Today's lyric:

"Have you seen the old man, outside the seaman's mission?
Memory fading with the medal ribbons that he wears.
In our winter city, the rain cries a little pity
For one more forgotten hero, and a world that doesn't care."

Ralph McTell: "Streets of London"

It's nice to be able to have the windows open at home, without The Ginger Whinger trying to make her escape (whether or not she's howling for a mate) - but it is damn quiet without her. Even Neurotic Lil is missing her, uncharacteristically nuzzling us, in recompense for the absence of alternately being mugged by and being washed by the cream demon.

So last night saw our maiden trial walk, as practice for May's moonwalk (see yesterday's post.)

We trekked across Tower Bridge, against an eye-closing, wind-driven drizzle which seemed to have sprung up from nowhere. Hanging a right down onto the Embankment, we made our way past RedKen House, up and over London Bridge (which I saw lit up for the first time, as normally I'm crossing it) and down to the Tate. Then across the Millennium Bridge to St. Paul's, back past Cannon Street and over London Bridge itself again.

We reckon we'd walked about three miles in 45 minutes, which is a reasonable first shot at the half marathon distance we'll end up walking. And I saw the Golden Hinde for the first time. And there was still some undeliquescent snow down in the Tower's grounds?

May take the camera next time...