ECHO 1/4/06

across the Thames the view opens – here, standing on a bridge across the Ravensbourne tributary, the sun is out; a bright, early Spring day – yet over on the north side a dark front is speeding in, storm clouds threatening – but rising, amid it all, a cluster of white birds (possibly pigeons, racing not feral; or else gulls behaving oddly in the charged ions) twists and turns collectively, disappearing behind a riverside development to appear again and repeat the action on the other side. They are so brightly lit, caught in the remaining shafts of sunlight that they appear almost illuminated from within, visually amplified, set off by the grim darkness beyond –

hearing the speeches – the face of Maggie marked on the docklands forever – a young boy growing up in her shadow and all his friendly landmarks disappearing as the yuppies rush in to buy – each foundation marked, the teeth of the giant skull, the lindworm moving beneath; it’s harsh medieval breath, stale and full of contempt – puckering up to history, giving birth to the dynasties to come in her name (Tony) – lapping the tide with lazarite tongues over and again – strike, strike! – quoting, rewriting, re-quoting: ‘the battle between the extremists and the rest’ 1984 – 2006 - for 22 years – hunting the enemy within, always afraid that someone else might know more then they do, debunk their myths, their salutations, their rituals -