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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.