So we had a bit of excitement in Birmingham last night. The whole city centre had to be evacuated for fear it was going to blow up.
Here is how rumours travel, by the way: Mr Ian works with a bloke, who has a brother, who works as a gardener, who did some work on the cheap for a bloke, who said last week, "since you've done me a favour, I'll do you one - keep away from the city centre on Saturday."
This, by the way, made no difference to myself at all; I always avoid the city centre on a Saturday because it's HEINOUS. Down in the Southern suburbs we are maintaining a little summer utopia. It's so hot, so we head to the park where we eat chicken legs and olives and chocolate cake and drink sparkling wine out of some pink plastic cups that have travelled all the way from Amsterdam. If someone is going to bomb the Bullring we figure they will have done it before about 2pm, so we listen out for radio bulletins from the cars that drive by with their windows down. A single helicopter flies above us in the direction of the city, then ten minutes later it flies back again. I hope they don't blow up the Bullring because there is a small church next to it, where I sometimes like to prowl.
The sun goes down and we have been drinking another bottle and lounging in a bath with bubbles full up to the window ledge. We head to my local for last orders. The place is jammed full but everyone with sense is sitting in the beer garden, rattling the ice in the bottom of glasses. Just before midnight we wander back to the park to play on the swings, and Sam texts me from Coventry to say, 'Oh my God they've closed off Broad Street!'
So we scoot back to mine and watch Sky news, which is currently videoing a view right across to my usual Saturday night club. We are to understand that a credible warning was recieved stating a particular time and place. Outside the Square Peg, a controlled explosion was carried out on a bus. But the threat of bombing in Birmingham was in no way connected to the attacks on London two days earlier.
The West Midlands police are having to justify such a drastic reaction, because businesses lost out on rather a lot of money last night down Broad Street, and people had to walk home/leave their houses if they lived in the centre. Personally I'd rather evacuate a club for no reason than have a bomb land on my head while I sip my Shiraz.
Phoned my parents this afternoon and the news hasn't reached as far as East Yorkshire. I wonder how many people working for the same agency as me will skive off work tomorrow because they're too afraid to go in
Anyway, returning to the matters of the greatest importance, here are the pictures I took in the park:
Still Life With Plastic Cups
Here is how rumours travel, by the way: Mr Ian works with a bloke, who has a brother, who works as a gardener, who did some work on the cheap for a bloke, who said last week, "since you've done me a favour, I'll do you one - keep away from the city centre on Saturday."
This, by the way, made no difference to myself at all; I always avoid the city centre on a Saturday because it's HEINOUS. Down in the Southern suburbs we are maintaining a little summer utopia. It's so hot, so we head to the park where we eat chicken legs and olives and chocolate cake and drink sparkling wine out of some pink plastic cups that have travelled all the way from Amsterdam. If someone is going to bomb the Bullring we figure they will have done it before about 2pm, so we listen out for radio bulletins from the cars that drive by with their windows down. A single helicopter flies above us in the direction of the city, then ten minutes later it flies back again. I hope they don't blow up the Bullring because there is a small church next to it, where I sometimes like to prowl.
The sun goes down and we have been drinking another bottle and lounging in a bath with bubbles full up to the window ledge. We head to my local for last orders. The place is jammed full but everyone with sense is sitting in the beer garden, rattling the ice in the bottom of glasses. Just before midnight we wander back to the park to play on the swings, and Sam texts me from Coventry to say, 'Oh my God they've closed off Broad Street!'
So we scoot back to mine and watch Sky news, which is currently videoing a view right across to my usual Saturday night club. We are to understand that a credible warning was recieved stating a particular time and place. Outside the Square Peg, a controlled explosion was carried out on a bus. But the threat of bombing in Birmingham was in no way connected to the attacks on London two days earlier.
The West Midlands police are having to justify such a drastic reaction, because businesses lost out on rather a lot of money last night down Broad Street, and people had to walk home/leave their houses if they lived in the centre. Personally I'd rather evacuate a club for no reason than have a bomb land on my head while I sip my Shiraz.
Phoned my parents this afternoon and the news hasn't reached as far as East Yorkshire. I wonder how many people working for the same agency as me will skive off work tomorrow because they're too afraid to go in
Anyway, returning to the matters of the greatest importance, here are the pictures I took in the park:
Still Life With Plastic Cups
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
I'm having caffeine problems, ie a lack thereof. But this will hopefully be slightly remedied after Birfday since MaternalPerental asked if there was anything I wanted - paHCHong!:
Kenwood ES547 Caf Retro Espresso
(Also on Akemi's wishlist I noticed...but she ain't having mine!)
(Have been realistic and lowering my hopes from the Francis Francis! X1 range.)
PS Your cups look like piggy parts, non?
[Edited on Jul 11, 2005 12:03AM]