Sad to see an old house taken apart. Dust hangs in the air. Beams and the remnants of light fitting hang about like memories.
A skating rink more elaborate than last year presides in Calverley Grounds. There is something vaguely medieval about the white onion domes of the temporary building adjoining the rink. Pop music drifts among the trees. Blue lights illuminate leaves giving a wintry hue. Kiosks are open offering refreshments. The park normally rather quiet and dull has a festive air. It compensates today for the greyness of the rest of the town. People seem quite happy this morning to be skating in the rain.
Tunbridge Wells has no river. But today water gurgles in gutters and drains, drips from branches and overflows, and rises in the cellars of people's houses.
1 comment:
It's the wallpaper that gets to me. Exposed to the jocular attentions of the passers-by: who would ever have chosen that? But it was never intended to divert the masses. A private decision that was perhaps regretted a year or two later, the comfort being that the garishness hardly went beyond the family. And now it's an outdoor detail, scorched by light that is far far too bright. A person's taste hung up and prominent. Particularly poignant when it's a bedroom.
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