This morning I woke up feeling good, relaxed… Almost youthful. I thought it must have been because the sun was out -and that’s certainly part of it.
The other part of it is that this is apparently the first time British airspace has been completely shut down. Ever.
And it’s quiet.
These are photos taken from the outdoor chair that I pulled into my yard to doze on. I couldn’t be bothered/had too much cider to stand up so please ignore the composition.
Please also notice that not only are there no planes in the sky, there are also no clouds.
If you know London, you will understand that this is decidedly abnormal. It’s ringed with airports and, at any time, the planes are stacked five high, waiting to land. There is also a near-constant hum of helicopters; monitoring traffic and also customs coming up the Thames. (Still Europe’s busiest port.)
It’s weird… Almost bucolic in its quietness. The only sounds are the bees in the yard and my trendy early-thirties neighbours (all hetero male) who are digging themselves a vegetable patch… It’s odd hearing the sounds of one of them on the PS3 in the living room talking to two other who are digging in the yard. That’s just how we roll in Chiswick, yo.
Anyway, thank you, Icelandic volcano. You may have prevented my new Australian flatmate from making his tour of Turkey/ANZAC Day in Gallipoli (which he is understandably sad about) but you have also given my the clearest view of a London sky that anyone has ever seen since the invention of commercial aviation.
Back to the yard. Bees make good company for cider drinking. I can tip my bottle at them and say “love your work”.
Love your work, Eyjafjallajokull -You may have the stupidest name of all the volcanoes, but you’re all right by me.