… the marathon.*
I’m fortunate enough to be living in a city where there’s quite a vibrant mix of festivals, rallies, runs and rides going on throughout the year. Sometimes, it drives me crazy, but well, you can’t have everything your own way!
Where I live right now is situated almost at the end of a number of long-distance events – a marathon, half-marathon, long-distance bike ride, a naked bike ride (yes, avert your eyes if you really don’t want to see too much!), classic car rally, Mini rally, motorbike rally… I get to see all sorts of strange, exciting, wonderful and bizarre sights throughout the year.
Yesterday, the red and white cones sprouted up along the pavement. The very small suspended parking bay signs suddenly made themselves visible (see above for ‘drives me crazy’). The metal barriers to hold back the hordes appeared in covert nests behind trees and gates. This morning, ubiquitous red and wide plastic tape had miraculously strung itself along the road, as if commanded by a vast magic wand in the deep, velvet night.
Traffic has stopped, the road-block heralded by an eclectic mix of classic Minis, beach buggies, a very tasty Mercedes and lots of horns. They are now gone. All would be silent except for the helicopter buzzing like a giant gnat overhead and strangely, a drumming group that have set themselves up in the park across the road. Now, I can hear random whooping, a few comedy circus-car horns as someone shouts out ‘Come on, Natalie!’ and a sprinkle of claps cascades along the pavement.
The marathon is here.
Enjoy the read, wherever you are…
* What the…?! Yes, sorry, you might have been expecting me to write ‘…the storm’, I suppose. It’s a common phrase in the UK and probably other English-speaking countries. As you get to read my offerings (and I’m not setting myself a schedule for that because it stifles my creativity and reminds me too much of my paying-the-mortgage-work), you’ll come to realise that I’m not overly fond of doing, or writing, the expected.