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A MAD SUMMER IN LONDON
by Buddha of Kilburn


On Friday 29 June 2001 the day stopped. There was a power cut and I walked to the Colombian café. They were awkward in awkward English and then I went home.

By that time, the power cut had started and I was desperate for a coffee. Voices started and I was deemed lucky. I spoke to my uncle who preached the virtues of Terry Pratchett's, "The Thief of Time", and I later learnt that my girlfriend was in the hospital. What had happened?

On the way back from the hospital, I shouted in Kilburn High Rd. You see, I am Buddha of Kilburn, and as far as I am concerned my girlfriend is "uber alles". My mother says my shouting is a bad sign and, indeed, the Buddhists help me, they do say that everyone has at some time been our mother, father, brother, or sister, and when I do "shout", I get smiles, especially from "mother figures".

Back at the flat, the builders had started. I tried to stay calm and meditate, but I couldn't find any sense in what they were doing. It does sometimes seem as though everyone is an enemy - even friends (who needs enemies when you've got friends?)

Jaded, I mourned over the loss of our front-door lock. My Dad is the landlord and had been away for some time, besides which the respective neighbours' landlords are too tight-fisted to cough up for a new one.

On Wednesday 4 July 2001, I learnt that food is not always good, even good food. Ask yourself, what are you feeding? Your anger or your hatred? Having said that, I had lunch and the day swung again - I was back to Friday.