I look down from the bridge between the embankment and Charing Cross Station to watch this pavement artist copying on to a canvas stretched across the paving stones below.
Female voice of passer-by on the pavement on the other side of our hedge: "Michael was almost irritated by me..."
Male voice responds without commitment or emphasis: "Was he?"
On the threshold of a toy shop in an arcade, some battery-driven soft toys roll about on the floor. "They're lovely, aren't they," says an elderly woman to her elderly husband. They advance on the toys, he with his walking stick; she gazing like a child. The toys croak and bark as appropriate to their species. "Oink, oink", says frog. "Oink, oink..." over and over and over again.
Female voice of passer-by on the pavement on the other side of our hedge: "Michael was almost irritated by me..."
Male voice responds without commitment or emphasis: "Was he?"
On the threshold of a toy shop in an arcade, some battery-driven soft toys roll about on the floor. "They're lovely, aren't they," says an elderly woman to her elderly husband. They advance on the toys, he with his walking stick; she gazing like a child. The toys croak and bark as appropriate to their species. "Oink, oink", says frog. "Oink, oink..." over and over and over again.
2 comments:
Pigs "oink"
Frogs "gribbet" or "croak"
At least in America. :~)
True, CC, in folklore, but through a process of industrial evolution, on this occasion, it seemed that the padded creature rolling on the floor which closely resembled a frog went "oink". Or may be it was a frog that had evolved into a pig.
Post a Comment