I had some errands to run today which took me along Rosebery Avenue. I went into the little park called Spa Green, opposite the Sadlers Wells Theatre. It was quite early and there were few people about so the pigeons were taking their ease in the sun.
On the war memorial, the Angel of Peace was still waving her laurel wreath, apparently unaware that the peace she celebrates has been broken many times since she first took her place on her plinth.
The pigeons are not aware of what she symbolizes and for them she is just a useful perch, somewhere for them to rest or preen safe from interfering humans and their dogs, a sort of bronze tree.
I have often told you that I am fond of pigeons, so much so that I feel happy when they appear contented and uncomfortable when I see them injured or suffering in cold weather. Today they looked well fed and cheerful and that cheered me up too.
I had to go to Archway and when I came back in the tube I had difficulty getting out of my seat because of my back trouble. I wished I had brought my walking stick with me. Do pigeons ever suffer from back pain, I wonder? If not, they have plenty of other diseases and injuries to contend with. To each species, its own burden of problems.
We endow our angels, those images of our perfected selves, with wings, but unlike the pigeons, we cannot fly, except in our dreams.