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August: poetry and paralympics at Greenwich

September 7, 2012

Daughter Mary and I made the four and a half hour journey to London on 30th August to watch two hours of dressage in Greenwich, where the numbers on the map begin, and where time is mean.

Being a person with no interest in sport, going to the Olympics was something I never expected to do. But a day out with Mary is not to be missed, and I was very glad I didn’t.

Emerging from the station we saw a poem by Lemn Sissay spread across the pages of a plywood fence.

The volunteers in their pink livery were everywhere: exuberantly helpful, showing the way with big foam pointy-hands. You can see one of them on the left of the last-but-one photo above.

We queued for an hour and sat down just before the event began. The horses were beautiful and the riders outstandingly skilful and courageous. The wonderful Lee Pearson was clearly in telepathic communication with his mount:

Before walking into a tunnel under the river we caught sight of the Cutty Sark, the last surviving tea-clipper. The name means “short skirt”, with the implication of easy virtue.

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