Yesterday I was out and about with my friend chopper. I go out with him quite a bit – he seems to like my company, claiming I help him calm down. Although some of his views are rather too right wing for my liking, I like him too. Going around with him helps me to see the more authentic side of south London – chopper seems to know everyone in the area, and seems very well respected. Mind you, I can’t help but wonder what people think when they see him pushing me along in my chair, or whether it damages his reputation as one of the hardest men about.

Anyway, yesterday we were in Woolwich. You may recall that Woolwich was one of the areas affected by the recent riots, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it. There is a Weatherspoons pub where we had the occasional pint, which was burned to a cinder; there is nothing left of it but a blackened wreck. More striking, though, was a building half way along the high street which had totally collapsed – you could see right through it. You could tell it was a really old building, as a Victorian fireplace had been exposed; it was like seeing a burned corpse stripped of life. Rather eerily, you could also see blackened books on a shelf, still clinging to a wall. I really was taken by that sight, and I suspect it will stay with me for a long while.

I’m still not sure what all this means, but aster seeing what I saw yesterday, I really hope the riots are now over.