Thoughts on Park Cleaning

Thirty days. It's easy to say those words quickly and, indeed, that time has gone by quickly for me. Even as I sit here, typing this last entry out, I can't really believe that I have really been doing this park-cleaning activity for thirty days.  I had my doubts when I started out. Chief among these was the thought that nobody would really care about what I was doing, and that nobody would be bothered to support me. Furthermore, I was worried about my own self-image. Before this event, I had never really been much of a public person, and while I had been volunteering and trying to improve my social skills, the idea of walking around, advertising my activities and fundraising for a public body was somewhat alien to me. I am happy to say that I have been proven totally wrong on both of these counts. Far from ignoring me or disparaging what I was doing, a hundred people replied to my tentative requests with kind messages of friendship and support. Many of them had their own story

Some pet owners like to put cute little clothes on their pets - I have seen cats with paw gloves, dogs with jerseys and once, even, a parrot with a necktie. These have striking effects. But none of them really come close to the hat that a squirrel showed itself to be wearing when I came across it today. One would not normally imagine that a Doritos packet is comfortable, but apparently the squirrel thought so. Indeed, it went to the extent of putting its entire head inside as it looked for potential nibbles. It seemed to be embarrassed when I saw it in the packet, and quickly shook it off before scurrying away from the bin where I had found it. But as I laughed to myself and put his erstwhile apparel into its rightful place, I contemplated how this was further proof of how resourceful and remarkable animals can be sometimes. This squirrel had searched tirelessly for food and its efforts had paid off. Perhaps this can be an example of how useful perseverance can be.

I came across the Ginkgo Biloba tree in the pictures below while I was cleaning Holland Park today - it is very close to the trumpet sculpture that fascinated me previously (it turns out that that sculpture's name is 'The Annunciation', which I learnt thanks to Ms Jennie Kettlewell and which I think is very fitting). The plaque at the bottom states that, in November 1987, the mayor at the time planted this tree as the first in one of several hundred needed to repair the damage caused to the Royal Borough's open spaces, including Holland Park, by the Great Storm of 1987. I find this very fitting, because a Ginkgo Biloba really is a special tree. It has existed for 270 million years and is the last of its kind - all of its close relatives have become extinct due to climate change, excessive browsing by herbivores or other factors. So it could be said to represent longevity and endurance. Furthermore, it is the source of best-selling herbal medicines and has many proven he

I just learned that, on this day, the Roman Emperor Nero killed himself in 68 AD. Faced with huge popular unrest, mutiny in the army and with his great rival Galba marching on Rome, Nero took his own life - or forced his private secretary to do it (accounts differ significantly) - saying famously, "What an artist dies with me!" Yet although Nero was a hated figure by this point, one of the most turbulent and unstable years in ancient history would follow his death, as, over the course of 69 AD, no fewer than four emperors were crowned, weakened, and killed in succession. Galba, Otho and Vitellius all rose up to seek imperium and wear the purple toga, before they fell to each other's swords and to the might and power of Vespasian, who finally restored order to the Roman Empire. I have always greatly admired Vespasian. Unlike his predecessors, who all hailed from aristocratic backgrounds, he came from what is better described as an upper-middle class family, and was its fir

My face is on the wall now in Holland Park - on the notice board of the Friends of Holland Park. I'd just like to take a moment to consider this. When I first started this fundraising activity twenty days ago, I never imagined that I would reach the point that I have gotten to now. But I think that this marks a new stage in what I am doing. Now that it's easier for me to be known to the public, and that I have raised over twice of what I originally set out to gather through donations, I think that I need to act with greater responsibility and think ever more deeply about what I'm doing and why I am doing it.  I hope that, in the future, I can look back on what I have done with pride. But for the next nine days I will strive to work ever harder, and to push for the finish line.

Tortoises are the epitome of longevity and patience. They can live for hundreds of years because they move so slowly, conserving their energy and not rushing towards their goals. Their durable shells provide a solid home where they can protect themselves from the world, and so they do not need to waste effort finding shelter. They amble about, searching lethargically and calmly for food and their fellow animals. In short, they know how to wait for good things. I started thinking about tortoises today when I found the Tortoise Sundial in Holland Park today, and found it particularly fitting that they had been chosen to decorate a structure associated with the passage of time. Those tortoises are made of bronze and are not real, but there is another, very much alive creature in Holland Park that also represents patience and endurance. That is the heron. I have seen herons stand in water, motionless and sharp, for long periods of time, waiting for the perfect moment to stab their beak int

Most of the litter that I pick up while on park cleaning excursions is of no further use to humans - hence why they have been thrown away in the first place. Although it's vexing to have to pick up empty bottles, sandwich boxes, used tissues and cigarette ends from the pathways, so far I have at least known that their time was up anyway, and so they could be disposed of with a clear conscience.  Today, however, there was an example that just went too far. In the bushes of Holland Park I discovered a package of wet wipes that was still more than half-full.  I don't want to get unnecessarily angry about this. However, I think that it is truly astonishing that somebody would have the idea of throwing away this perfectly usable product - and not even putting it into a waste bin, but hiding it away from sight as if they too were ashamed of their own actions. Those wet wipes could have served them well for at least a few more days. If nothing else, it was a waste of their money. What

Today, June 5, is a day sandwiched between two important events in military history. On June 4, 1942, American naval forces won the Battle of Midway in the Pacific Ocean, changing the course of the Second World War in that theatre. On June 6, 1944, Allied forces stormed the beaches of Normandy on D-Day, carrying out an event of similar magnitude for Europe. Both of these engagements were won at great human cost and with huge quantities of effort and skill, and with more than a little bit of luck. Nevertheless, they stand as monuments that represent what we are capable of when faced with great challenges, and how we can strive to fight for freedom and justice. June 5 is not as well-remembered in history - although it should be noted that the Arab Revolt against the Ottoman Empire in WW1 broke out on this day in 1916. I actually have the memoirs of T. E. Lawrence, who helped to orchestrate and lead the Arab independence movement, on my bookshelf, and they are a treasured possession. As I

The Dutch Gardens in Holland Park are lined with a selection of wooden benches. On each is written the name of somebody who has passed away, along with a few other words: 'In Loving Memory' or 'Gentle, Generous, Loving', for example. I have put in these two examples below. It's an saddening thought that there may be more of these benches in the future, and we should mourn those who are no longer with us, not just due to the coronavirus, but also due to the ethnic and racial conflict that we now see the US riven by in the aftermath of the death of George Floyd.  It makes one think about human mortality. Our time on this earth is limited. We do not have many years in which to make an impression on those around us - to inspire friendship, trust and love rather than hatred, violence and suspicion. So I think that it would be truly sad if we did not make the best of those years, and do as much good as we can. Perhaps our descendants can then place benches in parks with o

I have discussed the sculptures in Holland Park before. In general, they are compelling and attractive specimens, and I always find myself drawn to them when I go there. Even in my park cleaning rounds I make sure to go by the ones that I particularly like, such as the one of Milo of Croton that I've already discussed. They are constant fixtures of my visits, keeping me on a path of familiarity in the midst of this unprecedented situation. However, there is one sculpture that I still cannot understand. In fact, even the Internet seems to know precious little about it - its name eludes me. It's a bizarre construct; see the picture below. A huge wooden wheel stands next to an industrial cog, and on top of each is placed a gigantic brass horn, or a trumpet - something of that shape. Nobody is playing these instruments, and nobody is taking them anywhere. They just stand there, directing their gaping mouths towards the trees and buildings around them, and yet remaining silent. What

What is one thing that has been with me throughout this entire project? The answer: the ubiquitous, sturdy, black plastic bag. I've always brought one with me on my excursions, and it has served me well, carrying the rubbish I put into it without complaint and resisting all loads, whether they be paper, cardboard, plastic or glass. But today, while I brought my bag with me as usual, I began to think about what using it actually meant. Although I'm using it for a cause that I think most people would view as benefiting the environment, a plastic bag itself is not particularly environmentally friendly. I did not know whether the particular specimen I was using was biodegradable or not, for instance. But more than that, it was a product of a highly industrialised, chemically-dependent society - yet I was using it to do good to nature, which is pretty much the antithesis of our modern world as we know it. Naturally, this threw me into a bit of a quandary. Was I doing wrong, by using

In this blog so far, I have often remarked on the great diversity of life that Holland Park hosts. What is even more surprising about that diversity, though, is that it is very easy not to notice it. Consider, for example, the photo on the right, which I took while cleaning. Try to spot the peacock. It's strangely difficult, isn't it? But he is there, standing on top of the wall like he owns the place - confident in his majesty and his glory. He isn't the only one. Many a time have I walked past a tree and only realised as I went past that there had been a squirrel scurrying down its trunk. Many a time have I been searching for litter in the bushes, and surprised a bird who flew into my face and squawked in alarm. The animals are very much there - we just don't see them a lot. Yet they are thriving, and I think that there is something we can learn from that. By integrating so well into their environment, the creatures and critters of Holland Park are setting a splendid