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London's glorious parks

One of the greatest things about London is not, in my opinion, Buckingham Palace, nor is it the nightlife or its fashion. It's the parks. London has so many lungs situated at convenient distances up and down its body that it often feels not like a city at all. The past couple of days I have come from under t'ground with the black dog, and have dealt with a few long overdue things, and as a result have had a much-needed breakthrough in my writing, having so far this week achieved over 4000 words of what will be the third, and totally different, draft. I have also, with bicycle, ventured out and about. This morning I awoke at some unearthly hour, before five, and instead of lying there trying to get some more shut eye I put my notebook, pencil and a couple of books into the basket of my bike and set off. It was glorious, moving through space, experiencing it in such a different way and not worrying about traffic. I cycled down to the outer circle of Regent's Park, ignored the PARK CLOSED barrier and cycled round, got off at Baker Street, and then continued on to Hyde Park, which is a park I'm not as familiar with. I am now though, after cycling around it twice. And then I cycled back, and came down Edgeware Road, eyeing up a few drunken groups still going strong from last night. I stopped off for a coffee, whilst thinking about the plot of Mary Burns, and then back through Regent's Park. I cycled slowly through a group (what's the collective?) of waddling ducks and geese, relishing the opportunity to bing bing bing on my bell, which a toddler girl, out for an early stroll with her Dad, seemed to love, her Dad too as he repeated out loud the sound of my bell to her 'bing bing bing'.

There is also a range of short stories out, each one covering a London Park, which I think I've mentioned on here before, the authors reading them out at some point, presumably in each park that has served as the inspiration for their story, during the summer. More details here.

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