Overdosed on Caramel Chew Chew

Those of you who have been with this blog for a while may remember how much I enjoyed my first Sundae. Bands, an atmosphere akin to an expanded village fete and all the free Ben & Jerry’s ice cream you can handle. More than 365 have rolled round so it was back to Clapham Common for The Hours, unlimited cones of Phish Food and children dancing with pantomime cows. It was just as good second time around.

An absence of rain, a rug to read my Sinclair on and the best smiling company in London made the music and ice cream incidental. I was lost in a sea of smiles, killer sentences and families radiating so much happiness they would shame a Disney movie. Only the odd song broke the civilised air. A cover of Bankrobber and The Holloways roaring: ‘So this is Great Britain and welcome aboard/A sinking ship that’s full of shit and someone nicked the oars/Our once unique identity’s been washed from our shores…’

Overdosed on Caramel Chew Chew, we fixed our feet north before The Proclaimers finished on the inevitable 500 Miles. Home to spicey soup, foacia and saying goodbye to the little Canadian ghost who had been haunting the place. I like spirits who leave ice wine instead of shower ectoplasm.

Baggage ported to the nearest tube and our ghost dismissed with a wave, we flowed back through quiet streets. The biggest noise was from our chuckles over the CIA ‘safe house’ sporting a Mercedes with Langley plates on its drive. Sometimes it is like Darius Jedburgh is back in town. We stopped at the bridge for a while. A tarot full moon on the canal’s dream black water needs an audience.