The Thames Barrier

Cockney flatmate Neil and his daughter Jessica were heading out the door.

Cockney Neil: “Steve - Are yer comin’ down’a Thames?”

Me: “Yeah, I think I will actually. You go on though – I’ll catch you up.”

A few minutes later I headed out the door. It amused me that Neil, a fellow Londoner, had referred to nearby Howick beach as “the Thames.” It was probably one of the reasons why we got along – because our London upbringings had so much in common. London Weekend Television, One Day Travelcards, Capital Radio (95.8 FM) – and as I say the River Thames.

Howick Beach was, however, deserted.

Sitting down in the darkness, I took advantage of the chance to pray. Some people have regular quiet times, but I’ve found that fixing rules for myself often results in an inability to let go of them. Tonight I found I was, unusually, praying quite confidently.

Making my way back to my front door, I spotted that Neighbour Tim’s light was on. When he answered the door, who should I find inside but cockney Neil and Jessica.

Cockney Neil: “Steve – what kept yer? I asked yer if yer were comin’ down’a Tim’s.”