Thoughts on Park Cleaning

An event that particularly struck me in Holland Park today came about when I was cleaning in the Dutch Gardens. As I stepped around the corner of one of the bushes to snap up an elusive bottle cap, I was greeted with a bizarre tableau of a peacock and a family of four. The latter, who were clearly entranced by this creature, were taking pictures and talking excitedly amongst themselves. The bird, on the other hand, gave no sign that he had noticed the humans. Instead, he pruned his feathers, sniffed, and then gave three loud piercing cries, before wandering off somewhere - presumably in search of a meal, or a place to rest and bask in the sun. This small scene brought back memories of what I had felt when I had first come to Holland Park, three years ago, and discovered the amazing wildlife that it has on offer. Indeed, this fundraising activity that I'm doing has given me happiness from so many new things.  For example, yesterday I started sending out emails to the friends of the

There is a sculpture in Holland Park that is called 'Walking Man'. Created in 1998 by Sean Henry, it shows a rather ubiquitous, unexceptional male figure walking forwards, slowly but with purpose. His facial expressions are ambiguous: on one hand, you can view him as being worried about something, but on the other hand he can also seem mildly pleased about one of his own thoughts. In yet another light, he seems bored; in another, he seems exceptionally melancholy. The fact that his right foot seems tantalisingly about to touch the ground, but is not fully in contact, adds a greater sense of motion and life to his form.   Left: 'Walking Man' by Sean Henry What does he represent? I have looked at the sculpture many times on my morning cleaning sessions, and puzzled over that question in my mind. Who is this man? Where is he going? What is he thinking? An interpretation that has recently come to me, and which I find myself adhering to more and more, is that this man could

It's already been eleven days since I started my fundraiser, and I've raised £1,200 in that short time. That in itself still astounds me. When I started on this project, I never dreamed that I would get this far. I had only set myself a £700 target, thinking that it would take weeks to reach even that figure. Yet my expectations have been greatly surpassed. Having looked back on everything that has happened since last Monday, I remember and have kept to heart the words of all the passersby and people who took the time to stop and have a chat, or to give me words of encouragement, although I was a stranger to them. Even today, in Marcus Garvey Park, I met an amiable lady who had dropped by to water the plants, since the warm weather could inconvenience them. She introduced herself as one of the members of the Park friends, and, besides congratulating me for my work and urging me to carry on, suggested that perhaps I could join them one day to help them keep the area clean. And e

While cleaning in Holland Park today, I was struck by the presence of a very fine tree along one of the pathways. Although it was not the tallest, nor the widest or the bulkiest, the way in which the morning sunlight shone past its leaves made it look exceptionally majestic and beautiful.  I have had similar experiences to this before; once, while I was walking in St James' Park with my family, there was a young oak tree that produced a similar effect. Although it stood apart from the other trees, it was given a special aura by the light that I found very impressive.   Left: the tree in Holland Park that I saw while volunteering A tree is a lot like a human being. It requires much effort to raise and nurture, and, should the conditions around it not be right, it will not grow well and succeed. It is vulnerable to consumers, diseases and the power of the environment. But if it reaches maturity successfully, then it has the potential to live for a very long age, to have many offsprin

May 27 is an important day in the story of WW2 Britain. It was on this date in 1940 that the Allied high command began Operation Dynamo, the successful evacuation of hundreds of thousands of soldiers from the beaches of Dunkirk after it became clear that the Battle of France could not be won. A year later, on May 27 1941, the Royal Navy hunted down and sank the German battleship Bismarck , just three days after she had broken out into the North Atlantic and devastated British morale by destroying HMS Hood , the pride of the fleet. Both of these events etched themselves into popular memory, and are commemorated widely today in writing and in film, to the point that they have become near-legendary. But apart from these famous events, the Second World War has left its scars on Holland Park as well. One of its central buildings, Holland House, was critically damaged by bombs during the Blitz, almost to the point of total destruction ( This picture  gives a sense of the damage). Despite the

Before heading out this morning, I was struck by the sight of a man playing with his toddler son in the playground in front of the apartment block where I live. Despite the fact that there was a sign stuck next to the playground entrance, which clearly said that the equipment could not be used due to lockdown restrictions, and the fact that some council workers had actually locked the gate and chained the swings to prevent them from being used, the man and his child had jumped over the fence, and were merrily playing on one of the trampolines that is present there. They seemed so carefree, unaware of what our present terrible situation is. Left: swings in the playground that have been chained up by the council At first, I was inclined to criticise them. Was the man really setting a good example to his son? It was lucky that the child was too young to read, since, if he had been literate, he might have seen the sign before going in, and wondered whether his father or the government was

Mornings in Marcus Garvey Park are quiet. There are only occasional passersby and a few dogs, as well as a car going past on the road every now and then, to break the calm. Later in the day, however, it is a different story. The park has a football pitch that also doubles as a basketball court, and in the afternoon, in stark contrast to a month ago, it teems with earnest players shouting at and calling to one another. At this time, there also emerge families bringing their children on a walk or to play, friends cycling or running past, and lone pedestrians carrying their bags or shopping home. Sometimes there is music as well on the pitch, since the players are liable to bring along a jukebox with a huge amplifier. But what they play mainly consists of rap and punk rock, and some of the lyrics are inappropriate things that I wouldn't want anybody under the age of thirteen to hear. When I'm working at my desk at home, the sounds drifting through the windows can be deeply annoyin

We live in an era of mass production and manufacturing, where even food, that most fundamental of things, is standardised, packaged and made artificial. For example, when I went to Holland Park today, there was an abundance of sandwich packs, crisp packets, and even an empty pizza box lying in the grass. Some of them had not even been fully consumed, and so throwing them away was a source of worry. The thing is, I'm starting to doubt the entire point of eating pre-made food. It only really seems to help when you're in a hurry, or in a busy workplace without much time to commit to eating. But it's definitely not pleasant. You can either eat it cold, in which case it is uncomfortable to the gullet and stomach, and not very satisfying, or hot after heating it in a microwave, which is slightly more tolerable. But even then, it only has heat , a barebones product of physics - the result of vibrating particles without sentience or emotion. It does not have the human warmth and d

Marcus Garvey, after whom the park near my house is named, was a controversial figure to say the least. Born in Jamaica in 1887, he was a passionate black nationalist who advocated the return of the African diaspora to the continent and the formation of a single, unified African nation. He founded the Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA) in 1914, which saw great success in the United States, and numerous other organisations to encourage migration back to Africa and independent economic activities by black people. Prosecuted and arrested for mail fraud in 1922, he eventually relocated to London, where he died in West Kensington in 1940. Eventually, he was declared Jamaica's first national hero in 1964. I wonder what Garvey would think of the modern world if he returned to life and saw it today. He certainly would have been shocked and angered by the continued presence of racism throughout the world. Yet he might be proud of his influences on movements such as Rastafari and

In the middle of Holland Park's Dutch Gardens, there is a bronze statue of the ancient Greek wrestler Milo of Croton that I admired today. Milo was renowned for his great strength and is enshrined in folklore for his bravery, huge diet, and endurance; from childhood, he lifted a calf every day, until eventually he could lift an entire cow as an adult, and he won an Olympic victory no fewer than six times.  Yet Milo has also become famous for the bizarre manner of his death. The story goes that, one day, Milo was walking through the woods near his house when he came upon a tree that a woodcutter had abandoned as being too difficult to cut down, still with wedges embedded in it. The wrestler decided that he was strong enough to split the tree and finish the job, and so put his hands into one of the cuts. However, the wedges then fell out and the tree fell down to close around his hands, trapping him. With no way out, Milo was never seen again. Some say that he was killed by a pack of

The wonderful weather that we've been having recently has made London so much more livable. One of the things that stuck most with me from my time in South Korea was how scorchingly hot and humid it could get from the middle of May to the end of August. At points, it was too warm to go outside, and I had to sit panting in my living room in front of the air conditioner, praying to dark. But London's summer hasn't become like that yet - it is a dry, warming kind of heat that makes you happier. In my view, however, that doesn't justify the urge to go outside and start having barbecues without a care in the world - not when there's a disease that's struck over five million people worldwide. So you may imagine my sadness and confusion this morning, when I came across a mound of charcoal dumped into a plastic bag in the middle of Holland Park, complete with a blackened grating, cardboard plates still stained with sauces, and plastic juice cups. Clearly, somebody had d

Peacocks are quite a common sight in Holland Park. When I first started visiting a couple of years ago, I was astonished to see them there. I'd always associated peacocks with jungles, zoos and reserves. They are exotic and majestic creatures, waving their tail feathers in huge fans and holding their heads high and proud, sure of their beauty. Holland Park's peacocks are rather plump and courtly, compared to their wild counterparts, who are known to guard their territories zealously and to attack anyone who gets too close. But they still are quite the sight to see, and their piercing cries resonate throughout the paths in the morning - they sound rather like an elephant, but a soprano one.  There was one particular individual who I encountered this morning on my first excursion to clean Holland Park. He was sitting next to a flower bed, pecking at the ground and basking in the sunlight, now that the weather had turned for the better. As I approached him, intent on picking up a

Today was my first excursion to the parks. Originally I had intended to spend some time in Marcus Garvey Park and then briskly move on to Holland Park. This plan did not materialise, since I quickly realised that there was far more rubbish in the former than there had appeared to be a first glance. So I set to, equipped with my shiny new litter picker. Most of the things there were small objects, unfortunately all too common, such as cigarette ends and bottle caps. Around the benches in particular were dozens of cigarette ends - so many, in fact, that I grew tired of seeing their orange rectangular surfaces over and over again. I still can't understand why people smoke, or why they throw their cigarette ends onto the ground when there literally is a bin right next to them. It was the same with bottle caps, and even entire bottles and cans - I found an empty can of Guinness, another of Red Bull, and a bottle of Heineken lounging in the undergrowth. There are several bins in Marcus G

Launching! My 30 in 30 challenge launches today! I am looking forward very much to this, and I'm glad to have this opportunity to help the efforts of Guy's and St Thomas' Trust as they and the rest of the NHS strive to contain and defeat COVID-19. I hope that, as this blog progresses, you will spread the word about my challenge and others like it, raise awareness about 30 in 30, and help our doctors and nurses as much as possible.