Eclectica

Mostly cogent, most of the time.

I predict a riot

Yesterday I went wandering in my lunch hour, into the square mile in search of trouble. But apart from phalanxes of motorcycle cops and police horse lorries, there was nothing of the sort. In fact, there were fare more pink-shirted, gout-ridden, floppy haired bankers on the streets than normal.

What I did encouter was a gang of hoodies who accosted me in Leadenhall and said “excuse me, sir, could you tell us the way to Primark?” I tried to explain that they were in the wrong part of London for that kind of shop, but they clearly couldn’t comprehend of a world without a Primark within five minutes walk. They thanked me ever so nicely and continued their quest.

I walked on to Waterstones, where I found a huge queue of people outside. It was only when I got inside that I realised they were waiting for a signing by Robert Vaughan, who sat there, all wonky-chinned and effortlessly cool.

So there you go – I went looking for a riot and met well-mannered hoodies and Napoleon Solo. My life is random.

Today, I know there’s a protest going on five minutes walk from my desk. I can see it on the telly. I think I may go and check it out. Call it research for an as-yet unwritten novel.

I’ll probably just encounter some very polite Taleban and David McCallum.

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