There’s this bloke who I often see while lunching by the river.
Tall, slim, probably in his early 40s and bit haggard looking. Like an unpampered Jeremy Clarkson. While most of the regulars down there will squeeze into the last chink of autumn sunlight that manages to get past the buildings, eat a sandwich and text their mates, this bloke just sits there and gazes out over the river. That’s not so odd in itself – I do it occassionally too, albeit not with the distant stare that he does – no, what makes him stand out is that he sits there and gazes out with 2 cans of Stella (always 2) while chain smoking Bensons.
He’s not a street drinker, though; not like the ones in Spring Gardens (I so wish I had a picture of the two I saw passed out on the grass this summer, curled up symmetrically around 2 empty bottles of Bells. They looked so at peace as I was walking into work). No, this bloke’s definitely on his lunch break. Some of the suits will nod in acknowledgement as they walk past on the way back to the office. He’ll nod back.
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[...] with the Thames. The strap to this blog was originally “Tales from the riverside”. And my first proper blog entry was one such tale. A lot of it comes from working in Vauxhall for 3 years and getting to spend at [...]