Sometimes I don't really like living in Lewisham. I'm very lucky in that I live two minutes from Ladywell train station and my street is nice. Basically I don't need to see too much of Lewisham that often but when I do it's not always great. It's not very clean, the people who frequent the High Street are spontaneous (that's the best I can say about them) and it's really loud. There is never, I mean NEVER, a time that I use my phone while walking down Lewisham High Street and the call isn't interrupted by sirens.
But there are times when it is so magical that I can't imagine living anywhere else. Sunday was one of those days.
I walked Jerk in the park, another generally uncomfortable place to be in Lewisham. At least the park looks nice. Lovely winding river, nice little bridges, beautiful trees and bright green exotic birds that have shunned South America to make Lewisham their home. But the people...well, you know what people are like. I'd only been in the park 10 minutes when I saw this guy. This amazing guy who is just so Lewisham his name should Rock J. Lewisham. Let's call him that. Rock was in the park walking his 3 beautiful big dogs. The dogs were happily running around and playing. No matter what you might think about Rock, his dogs obviously love him. All 3 of the dogs leapt over the river with the grace of a ballerina and now it was Rock's turn to do the same.
No. Surely not. Rock's not going to leap over the river. No. He'll never make it. And anyway, there's a bridge right there. I mean, it's RIGHT THERE. Rock only needs to walk 10 seconds to his right and he'll be on the bridge. In 15 seconds time, he'll be over the bridge and with his dogs. There is no way that Rock is going to leap that river.
But, you know what Rock's like. He has to prove, at all times of the day, every single day of every year, that he is Rock J. Lewisham. Rock took a running jump.
I mean, yes, OBVIOUSLY he landed in the middle of the river but that wasn't enough. Oh, no. He just HAD to lose his footing and fall right in. Instead of walking those few feet to the right and using that bridge like us dicks would have, Rock sank into the river like a, I dunno, a stone or something. He splashed around for a bit and then crawled up the river bank on the same side as his dogs. That's when he stood up and turned to face the river. Rock J. Lewisham then pointed at the river and shouted at it.
Rock J. Lewisham gave that river such a bollocking. I know that a much bigger river, The Nile say, probably could have taken a loud, swear-filled ticking off but the tiny wee Ravensbourne that cuts through Ladywell must have been quaking. But was that enough? Rock is, after all, a gentleman and this cheeky sod of a river had robbed him of his precious dignity. Time for Rock to get it back. That's when Rock J. Lewisham got his cock out and pissed in the river.
"Fuck you, River", Rock must have thought. "I'm covered in you, now you're covered in me. Chessmate".
Who would have ever wanted to miss that? The very theatre of life playing at all times at Lewisham whether you like it or not.