The Peacock in the Park (20/5/20)

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 large piece of tissue on the ground next to him with my litter picker, he turned his head towards me and squawked.

There were two ways in which to interpret this. It could be a 'Hello there!' - a nice jolly greeting from a happy bird. Or it could have been a 'Go away!' - for he could have been annoyed at this bespectacled, lumbering and drab human disturbing his sunbathing. I didn't really know which of the two it was, so I decided to be neutral about it, and said simply, "Good morning." After all, it pays to be polite.

He shook his head at me and went back to looking for food. Meanwhile, I scooped up the tissue and put it into my bag, before bidding him a good day and walking off.

That was a small incident, but it's stuck with me and I could not help but remember it as I sat down to write this entry. Now that I look at it, the peacock is actually surprisingly representative of the typical Westminster student. Peacocks are steadfast, confident, social and communicative animals, yet at the same time they are fiercely combative and determined.

I think that it is those traits that make me most miss my friends as the lockdown continues. The rigorous intellectual debates, entertaining conversations, simple funny jokes and even other, silent interactions all come together to create a beautiful sense of community and solidarity. Now that we have moved online, such things are out of reach, and whilst online school allows for some face-to-face contact and talking, it isn't the same.

So you may understand how genuinely happy I felt today, as the second day of fundraising comes to a close. Messages have poured in from all around, from my friends, teachers and other acquaintances, contributing to the cause and promising to stand by me on my project. I really was touched by how we could still connect and rekindle our old sense of camaraderie and unity that I had loved so much whilst living in College and boarding with my peers.

Walking around parks in the morning and picking up rubbish gives me an opportunity not just to collect my thoughts; it also allows for little memories to pass through my mind. For example, I found a lovely white rose in a small corner of Holland Park today, covered with a plastic bag. Instantly this brought to mind a recollection, two years old by this point, of the statue of Queen Elizabeth in the middle of Yard as her hair was briefly engulfed by a drifting white sack on a cold winter morning. I observed this whilst walking through to College in preparation for a Eucharist service, and whilst it was a small incident, it seemed that my subconscious had retained it, now to be released by the strange juxtaposition of the flower and the litter.

I cannot help but think about Westminster on my morning excursions. That school has dominated my life for the past four years, and it's been the bedrock on which I've built all my friendships, interests, rivalries and loves. It's when I'm away from it that I realise how empty I would feel without it.

I want to return, and meet those peacocks again.