And so at last I stagger, blinking into the sunshine, fumbling for my tricorn and wondering what the hell happened to Greenwich in the last seven weeks. When I had to stop posting it was chilly, dark and wet. Suddenly it’s hot, sunny and drying out at an alarming rate. Stuff has happened. I mean – blimey, stuff has happened. What a time to be out of action, but hey – sometimes we don’t get to choose.
It’s going to take a little while to get back into the swing of a Greenwich I hardly recognise – more akin to a high security prison than a town, but curious, yes, curious. Park closed, stadium built, gantries straddling Romney Road, cable car straddling the Thames, Stonehenge decamped to the peninsula; Dutch people to decamp there too. I don’t think the two are related.
And everywhere I look there’s festive stuff happening. Flags, which when Rip Van Phantom fell asleep, were all of the union variety, and banners that were of the Royal Greenwich persuasion, are suddenly the pastel shades of 2012. Shows, comedy, dance, torch-running and, let’s face it, some just plain weird shit is going on. Spanish people doing giant illuminated puppetry
French people doing – well, I’m still not quite sure what they were doing but it appeared to translate as The Voyage of Wet Dreams and there was a large ejaculation of foam at the climax.
Thank you to everyone who’s been in touch over the last seven weeks – I’m not sure how long it’s going to take to deal with the literal hundreds of emails and, I apologise in advance, a whole load of stuff, especially the dozens and dozens of events that are going on just now, has already/ will have been and gone. Issues ditto. I will get round to it – but it may take some time.
In the meanwhile, I’m back. It’s been a very strange time for me – but looking at what Greenwich has become, it has been for everyone. And given the whole Olympic thing kicks off in less than a week, my strange time is nothing to what it will be…