My favourite F word… The weekly summer concerts held outdoors at Canary Wharf are superb entertainment, a whole lot of fun… and absolutely free! Julian brought them to our attention a couple of years ago and we’ve been to various events – the best being a night of Michael Jackson (not the real one).
This week was Frank and Ella – not my favourite genre but perfect background music. It’s so lovely to lie on the grass and watch the sun disappear behind the elegant glass and steel structures as people start gathering around the stage. By the time the concert started, the park was jam packed. About 40 people were in our group, squashed onto blankets and plastic sheets, cuddling up to strangers, making new friends, munching picnics that were hastily picked up in Waitrose.
As the sun sets around Canary Wharf, the buildings turn electric shades of neon blue and purple. It’s such a cosmopolitan arena that on a night as warm as Tuesday you could be in any futuristic city. We’re so lucky to be living in London. Apart from the rubbish. And the underground, which I avoided on Tuesday by jumping on a big red iconic London bus.
The bus took me to Docklands straight from my lunch with Nick, a business friend that I met last year at a networking event. He’s an expert in local SEO, helping businesses to optimise themselves for Google search results. This complements nicely the work I do helping companies to market themselves through social media; I’m enabling them to gain ground with Google by using their social media and blogs to attract a greater traffic flow – ultimately bringing new customers.
Nick’s based over in Wimbledon, the home of the Wombles. (I know some of you will be pre-empting today’s lyrics!) Canary Wharf was pretty clear when we left, but typically, a walk around London is ruined by the mounds of rubbish piling up or blowing along the pavements. Gives new meaning to Dick Whittington’s concept of streets paved with gold. Gold coloured crisp packets and silver fag packet liners maybe…
The Wombles’ motto was to ’Make good use of bad rubbish,’ an ethos three decades ahead of its time. The idea of recycling was pretty vague in 1970’s UK, but the funny, furry little creatures definitely inspired a generation to pick up their litter. If only the visitors to our shores could be so accommodating; some people just seem to have no idea of how to use a bin!
Anyway, I decided the Wombles are not sophisticated enough for me today, so this seemed the most appropriate Ella song to choose. Maybe flying a bit close to the wind, but a good test to see if Steven reads this blog. Vexed again, perplexed again, Thank God, I can be oversexed again… Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I. Risqué lyrics for 1940 and I’ll probably be in trouble today! So follow me quick, before my broomstick is confiscated: @WeekendWitch.