Feeling like an ant

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There have been several moments recently where I have felt like an ant. An unusual experience, not entirely pleasant at times, and at other moments, rather glorious.

The less than fantastic times are when trying to stand up to beaurocracy and be heard as a voice, amongst millions, by a Government or Council who are just not listening and want boxes ticked, I’s dotted and T’s crossed. Then it is easy to feel small and insignificant and on a treadmill. I can also was to rebel and start revolutions, but then I get distracted by the treadmill and forget my lofty ambitions.

But on the glorious front, I had to go to New Covent Garden Market this week. I buy flowers for the shop there. It is wonderful. A massive fridge filled with men selling flowers. Strangely bizarre, early in the morning, usually in the dark, the experience of such a profoundly laddish environment where the product is divine.

I bought my plants then headed out of the car park for a run. The sun was up, it was warm and glorious. I drive around the Vauxhall area every day but running it is quite different. I headed for Lambeth Bridge and ran past huge buildings and felt so little, so small, it was quite wonderful. Usually I run past houses and they whiz by comparatively quickly. But on the Embankment everything is enormous. I loved it, over the bridges, in the sun with the river wind. I wished it was my route every day.