Riding a late one out’ve south London, baked by sun & soaked
by rain, colder indoors than out. This is England, why I live
here, the weather drives us, comforts us, gives us conversation
& focus to make, & write & create because it keeps changing.
My dialogue with the weather has been a constant
throughout my life, the seasons & ‘what should I wear’s’ have
kept me in a state of continual flux that works for me. One day
in the sun is enough, slows me down, de-incentivises me, I loose
direction as the heat swells my fingers & brain, it’s like being
drunk again. Early morning rain washing the streets clean, of
dirt & people, enough to imagine I’m at one our our less glamorous
British sea-side resorts in Winter, they’re my favourite hang-out
places for inspiring a particular ‘alone-ness’ that lifts me.
Hood up, walking the streets in the rain, amber glow of cafes
calling, steam from coffee machines, hissing, radio on in the back,
condensation running down windows, figures hunched over formica
tables, fingering strong tea in thick cups, white toast, beans,
plastic tomatoes disgorging ketchup since the 60’s.