Central London on my ones

13/05/2014

Sat on a bench in Hyde Park with the bipolar weather giving me sweats every two minutes in my Ted Baker coat.
Being careful not to sit in a sneaky puddle.

My boots are resting in the slightly pebbled path and I can feel my toes getting wet. Foreign people, actually German people walking past, the litter picker in his khaki hat walks past me. A group of eleven hench men following the path I front of me, 'ballers' I guess. And a Spanish nuclear family watching their three year old chase a squirrel round the trees. A modern looking scouts group on my left having a piggy back race and I hear a leash behind me.

Suitcases scrape as four girls walk past, their faces screaming 'i'm fucking jet-lagged'. 

Oh it's a sausage dog. There's a theme of holding big umbrellas if you're wearing a suit. And if you're not wearing a suit you're looked up and down like a dog.

All I wanted was a piss, I walked into Everbean, a cafe, that's a five minute walk from the Albemarle Gallery. That's were I was today. I was eager to visit Okafor's portrait exhibition. Stunning detail and marble floors only followed by glares and botched noses.

A typical middle class man walked in and the man at reception walked over to him only to ask if he was alright. He informed him about the gallery, the artist's history and handed him an A4 paper that listed all the portraits one by one.

Did I get one? Nah. Two women, both black walked in. Did they get one? Nah.

I think I wasn't dressed appropriately. Perhaps if I bought a blazer and some heels it would have done the trick. Or if I walked in with Gucci shades and a LV scarf. Maybe if I walked in with an Arab dad, or a white friend. Perhaps if my hair was permed straight and I spoke Queen's English. I should have done that really.

Throughout the whole day I had one conversation. One. The lovely lady without judgement asked me if I needed help. This was in the Fine Art building bear New Bond Street I think. I'm talking like I know the place. I walked past LV, Fendi, Chanel, I could go on. Audi, Ferrari and every logo. The Chalet bar, Starbucks, Pret, Eat, men, women, dogs, taxis, cabs, Bentleys, German whips. English, foreign. Italian, Arab, French, German, Iranian, Dutch, Thai Embassy. streets, grunge.

Well I pictured most of it. I am now in Hyde Park. Where there's a diversity. You need diversity. Well I need it cos I've had enough of people looking at me head to toe.

Chavs, now walk past, I quietly type cos lord knows if my phone gets taken I may just turn Solange on their asses and there is no CCTV to back me up. I'm empty inside. My belly is full of coffee and thoughts. I'm feeling really weird, like I've just fell in a pit.

It's called a thought hurricane and a storm of reflection. Damn I'm hungry.