Tubewhore (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} tubewhore) wrote,@ 2006-12-23 17:08:00 |
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| Entry tags: | knightsbridge, piccadilly line |
Knightbridge.
Heading from King's Road take the 11 bus to Knightbridge to get Piccadilly Line to KX for a day over in Cambs with G.
I hurry past. Harrod's are evil. One of my first jobs in London was working there over one Christmas. It's ruled with the iron fist of dictatorship, meaning staff going into the shop by anything other than the staff entrance are liable to sacking if caught. Shoplifters are treated as though they are childkillers. It is a bizarro world of its own, with even a hospital for minor surgeries upstairs as well as the biggest staff restaurant I've ever been in. I didn't fit in. I was taken off-floor once and told in no uncertain terms that my hair was not up to Harrods expectations of the grooming of the staff. I've never had coporate hair, even when it was a natural colour. Even when I try to pass, my tentacles show.
My camera forgotten, and battery dead on B's, have to resort to the dubious back-up of a disposable from Sainsbury's.
Photo is eventually taken for me by studenty type in need of warming up, who is waiting outside the station for a rally to protest at Harrod's re-opening their fur department. He tries to convert me, giving me an anti-fur leaflet - perhaps I looked a little too much a fashionista in vintage 40's dress to care about the evils of the fur trade - and I tell him that the only time I've come close to being arrested was for bricking a fur shop window in Plymouth as a nipper.
Basically, it was a Comedy of Timing - I throw the brick, brick arcs through the air, the window goes booOomcrash tinkle, most impressively, and a hand lands on my shoulder. These things seem to happen almost instantaneously with each other. I look up over my shoulder to see a very large policeman behind me. He seems impossibly tall to my fourteen-year-old self. I am, as they say, bang to rights. Fuck.
He leans over and whispers in my ear: 'Run for it love, I'm on your side'
I don't need telling twice.
Anyway, once underfed protester has decided I am not a Pawn of Evil, and we've had a good chat about consumerism and clothes production he consents to doing the pic for me. Sadly, as I am enjoying our mutual ranting session, I have a train to catch, so protester waves me off, actually bumping fists with me and saying 'solidarity!' as I head underground.
The picture above is taken from the CD of the developed film, rather than usual digital camera, giving a slightly different quality to the image.
