Sitting on the lock in London

While Michael is out roaming around Greater London, I spend a lot of time at the locks on Regents Canal, which runs just a block from the flat in Islington, where we are staying. 

I often walk along the canal but mostly, I just sit, doing some reading or some knitting. There is always something to look at, ponder about, or be entertained by.

Yesterday when I was sitting on my bench, a man set up his fishing gear, threw the line, and shortly after caught what turned out to be a perch. 

It was a fight for him to get it ashore, but he put it immediately back into the canal. 

When I asked him why, he told me he had been fishing at this bank since he was 12. In his younger days, he needed meals. Now he was just doing it for sport, and he showed me how and where to place oneself while fishing according to the stream, the noise, and the wind.

The story of his life came after this information. He was a builder and told me he was quite relaxed. The only people he didn’t like were those who smoked or drank too much - or talked too much he added. Otherwise, he was good with all people.

Another man felt confident to join the conversation.

He was a bit hard to understand, but apparently, he was working at a takeaway near Kings Cross and was now on his way home. 

Thus being introduced he moved to my bench and I soon understood why he was difficult to understand - the smell of alcohol was overwhelming. 

He had a child, he told me.

When I replied that I have a daughter, too, he looked at me and said 'Oh, she must be really old'.

Thank you so very much!

Now a third man joined, an Asian-looking dude. He unpacked his lunch box and started to talk. He was Malaysian on a day visit from Cambridge. 

It is not so difficult to get into conversations here. 

The clientele varies with the hour of the day. During the day you will find people who run, bike, or walk. 

People with prams, and with dogs.

Like the woman who came by my bench today:

She was in her seventies and had a white poodle. The poodle stopped to pee and I heard her shouting to it: Oh Eric, it's too damned hot for this kind of thing! 

I am only guessing here but I think she used to have a husband called Eric. I don't know how the husband took her outbursts, but Eric the dog took it relatively calmly.

Two guys I see almost every time I come, are two municipal workers who just seem to sit and do mostly nothing at all.

I understand them completely. The Islington lock at the Regent Canal IS a lovely place to hang out