Evening amble

It’s a really beautiful evening. I just walked down to the river and wandered in a slow circle back to the flat. I think you’d call it balmy, and at 22:30 there were many people around. Lots of interesting little moments. Two men walking a dog kept looking back at me over their shoulders. The restaurant cruiser passed, brimming with people dining in smoky red light. Some teenagers in the park had a shopping trolley overflowing with bunches of indistinguishable objects, and some of the kids – sixteen year olds are now apparently still kids in my eyes, and I remember how much I hated that attitude – are lying in sleeping bags. Somebody somewhere was having a barbecue. A guy in bermuda shorts passed me almost silently, and I jumped. Cutlery clattered from the Duck Pub (I always forget its real name) opposite. Voices and laughter echoed around the green, and one couple had a small fire. Two ducks spent half an hour stuck in a holding pattern around the park, one quacking wildly, the other in hot pursuit. I heard today that only ducks, as opposed to the male drakes, actually quack – is that true? The theatre glowed yellow, while mute swans drifted back and forth beneath it. There were a few stars that were probably planets. I sat on a bench by the water and tried not to feel conspicuous while eavesdropping on the conversations of passers by. Most seemed to be discussing relationship issues, and who likes whom, and what they should do about it. I felt like I wanted somebody to share it with, but simultaneously didn’t, as I was strangely content. I’m clearly feeling somewhat wistful, and it made for a pleasant hour.