April 3 2014 and, for some reason I couldn’t work out what day it was when I woke up. Maybe the Saharan sand smog that had hung over the city for the previous few days had got into my brain. When I woke up I thought it was Tuesday. Then I remembered the day before had definitely not been Monday so I thought perhaps it was Wednesday. It wasn’t until I was eating my granola and opened my iPad to catch up on a blog or two that I saw the date in the corner telling me it was Thursday. How did that happen?
3 April 2014
The news this morning was all about the Saharan sand. Apparently it is now mixed with pollution from Central Europe and we have real smog. Wonderful. We are being warned not to go outside if we can avoid it. In the spirit of protecting my lungs I caught the bus this morning. So did everyone else, well all the ones not in cars, making the bus move slower than I walk anyway.
The sky looked dark and foreboding as I walked through the desolate park and there was a haze over the river. Probably all that Saharan sand. Somehow it made the colours of the trees and grass seem brighter. There was something of a post apocalyptic look about everything as I walked towards the boardwalk. The smog hung over the city, obscuring the details in the distance, so I concentrated on the shore line. The two swans plus a couple of duck friends were standing about on the shingle cleaning themselves. I wondered if the dusty air was bothering them.
After snapping a little boat tied up to a wreck I gave up on photography and carried on along the boardwalk. The man with the friendly dog seemed quite cheerful though and his dog sat to have his head patted. After a few words about the weather we both went our separate ways. For me it was onward to the office.
The excitement for the day was provided by a huge fire in the city centre, not far from the BBC Studios and the Dream Factory office. Roads were closed off, busses diverted, chaos ensued. It turns out workers building a huge student apartment block had accidentally set fire to something, gas canisters had exploded and a plume of smoke miles high was adding to the overall smog effect. Just what we needed. With other diversions by the New Bridge caused by repairs to the old Central Bridge and roadworks along Terminus Terrace by the docks it pretty much brought the city to a standstill.
It wasn’t the best time for me to take my first phone call. Then again, is any time the best time? Until now I’ve been answering letters and emails but I haven’t had to answer the phone. In the end it was quite an anticlimax, of the three calls I took in the hour I was answering the phone, none were about Southampton. There was a lovely old lady asking about bus routes in Bath, someone else asking about the price of daily tickets and someone asking about another diversion altogether in Bristol. Even though I didn’t know what I was talking about I managed to answer their questions with the aid of a timetable a fare guide and a call to the depot in Bristol. The crazy people and the shouty people gave me a break for once.
The smog was still there when I left to go home so I gave the river a miss and walked down towards the Triangle instead. The only photo was of a black car on Horseshoe Bridge, not that you’d know it was black it was so covered with Saharan sand. Despite all the dust and grime I liked the way the trees and the river were reflected.
When I got home Topol was outside talking to Commando and CJ. They were talking about Fluffy. He buried her at the bottom of their garden. Turns out she wasn’t fluffy at all, at least not to them, she was Trixie. She was Fluffy to us though and I think I’ll sleep easier tonight knowing she had a decent burial.
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