9/11

Out for a stroll and everything seems safe and sound, which isn't always the case in east Hull. A circus is putting up its big top in the park around the corner, the clattering of hammers on metal to form the stands wrecking the peace and quiet. Just around the corner there's a house with the stars and stripes in the window. Weird, I think, and take a closer look. It's a Flag of Honor, containing all the names of...well, all the names. It doesn't really sit too well, here, I'm thinking, and not many people will see it, or get the chance to think that it doesn't really go with those conifers. I take the pic on my way back from Morrisons, copy of The Guardian, a loaf of bread and a packet of cotton buds banging against my leg in the carrier bag. I walk back through the park for a closer look at the circus, ponder whether it really is worth running away to, or if swinging on a trapeze night after night is just as soul destroying as the other jobs I've done. I amend a grants for arts application that might stave off the bailiffs. It will be in the post tomorrow, on a less ominous date. I make a crisp sandwich. I'm sure there used to be enough crisps in a bag to fill four slices of bread - but I barely fill two. CNN is streaming its footage from September 11, 2001 in real time. I can't decide if this is in bad taste or is a much more fitting tribute than the stuff that is happening in Shanksville, or the Pentagon, or at the WTC site today (too orchestrated, too many military uniforms, too many cameras pointing at people who wanted to do their thing in private). But in east Hull everything seems safe and sound. For now.