Barry
I now believe in signs. Either that, or Coincidence is a conscious entity with a sense of humour.
Recently, I've been getting interested in the artwork of classical mythology - so dragons, demons, angels... and gargoyles, more recently. So yesterday as I was going home I decided to take a detour through the church yard in Hornchurch and have a few furtive sups of warming beverage. I was standing in the archway and I heard a weird crackly sound. Looked around - nothing. Took a drink, heard the noise again, looked around - still nothing. Then as I took another swig I heard the sound, louder, so I came out of the indent, looked around frowning, and WHUMPH! A gargoyle fell off the roof in front of me.
"Shit! Gargoyle!" thought I. Ice must have got into a crack in his pedestal and split it. After I got over my initial shock, I flipped the gargoyle over (not easy, he's heavy enough) and took a look at him, scarred and pitted and covered in mud. And it made me really sad. (I was buzzing a fair deal from the winter warming, but maybe I'm odd enough to have felt sad anyway). Gargoyles are reviled for doing their job. They're made ugly specifically for the purpose of guarding God's roof. I doubt anyone asked them if they wanted the appoinment, and I don't know if gargoyles are Christian. And it made me think how infinitely more depressing life would be through the eyes of a gargoyle. Forced to sit up on a roof your whole, seemingly endless life through the extremities of weather, the endless divebombings of pigeons, and having to overlook cemetaries or the petty comings and goings of ungrateful fuckwits, wishing you weren't made of stone. Even if it was only for a day. An hour.
So then I thought "Ha! No more tedious servitude for you!" I lugged him home on the bus and liberated him, and he's now sitting on top of my wardrobe. I think I'll call him Barry. He's very groovy, if a little unnerving at night. I couldn't really relax with him staring at me in bed, so I faced him towards the door and put my hat and scarf on him, causing my mum to have a small seizure when she came in to rootle through my stuff.
People could learn a lot from gargoyles.
Recently, I've been getting interested in the artwork of classical mythology - so dragons, demons, angels... and gargoyles, more recently. So yesterday as I was going home I decided to take a detour through the church yard in Hornchurch and have a few furtive sups of warming beverage. I was standing in the archway and I heard a weird crackly sound. Looked around - nothing. Took a drink, heard the noise again, looked around - still nothing. Then as I took another swig I heard the sound, louder, so I came out of the indent, looked around frowning, and WHUMPH! A gargoyle fell off the roof in front of me.
"Shit! Gargoyle!" thought I. Ice must have got into a crack in his pedestal and split it. After I got over my initial shock, I flipped the gargoyle over (not easy, he's heavy enough) and took a look at him, scarred and pitted and covered in mud. And it made me really sad. (I was buzzing a fair deal from the winter warming, but maybe I'm odd enough to have felt sad anyway). Gargoyles are reviled for doing their job. They're made ugly specifically for the purpose of guarding God's roof. I doubt anyone asked them if they wanted the appoinment, and I don't know if gargoyles are Christian. And it made me think how infinitely more depressing life would be through the eyes of a gargoyle. Forced to sit up on a roof your whole, seemingly endless life through the extremities of weather, the endless divebombings of pigeons, and having to overlook cemetaries or the petty comings and goings of ungrateful fuckwits, wishing you weren't made of stone. Even if it was only for a day. An hour.
So then I thought "Ha! No more tedious servitude for you!" I lugged him home on the bus and liberated him, and he's now sitting on top of my wardrobe. I think I'll call him Barry. He's very groovy, if a little unnerving at night. I couldn't really relax with him staring at me in bed, so I faced him towards the door and put my hat and scarf on him, causing my mum to have a small seizure when she came in to rootle through my stuff.
People could learn a lot from gargoyles.