Wednesday, 28th July 2010

Michael joins us. The jack russell with the shark-toothed smile is in the loop. I point him out to Michael who says that he looks like the dog from the movie The Mask.

The park is full of children dressed in summer clothes. Shorts, tee shirts, pastel dresses, sandals. Children on skateboards, bicycles, carrying deflated helium balloons.

We go to Phillies. A woman generously gives up her seat near the door and sits at a middle seat so that we can make Indie comfortable. We thank her. She pets Indie who is grateful for the attention and for his toast. Michael says that Toast would make a nice name for Indie. Indie licks his lips.

Tuesday, 27th July 2010

The loop is full of dogs today. A pair of black dogs engage in play battle, rearing up like stags, only to be interrupted by the sound of their mistress’s squeaky toy. One squeak and they race off to follow her. A tall man with little glasses, a cotton carrier bag and a tiny dog with long ears heads towards us. The man and I smile at each other as the dogs meet and greet, the little dog dashing backwards and forwards under Indie’s wagging tail.

As Indie heads out the gate on his attempt to go to Phillies, a woman approaches to tell me that Indie “looks so very serious.” I explain that he’s on a mission. The woman nods her head, responds with a “quite” and walks towards Kensington High Street. Indie, understanding that Phillies is not going to happen today, comes back into the loop to search for breadcrumbs.

Monday, 26th July 2010

Michael, Indie and I are on the path again. There is a hole in the brick wall in front of the high school. A tree is visible. Michael and I wonder what the hole is there for. Is it to correct something or will it be a feature? It does make you stop and look.

Indie, the eternal optimist, attempts to go to Phillies but turns back after watching Michael and I head towards home. At the top of the loop, a range rover pulls in from the street. The central bollard that blocks traffic has been lowered. A blonde woman in heels, smoking a cigarette, jumps out of the car and joins a younger blonde woman who is walking a dachshund. They walk into the park leaving the car sitting on the path.

Sunday, 25th July 2010

Michael, Indie and I climb the hill of the path. It’s hot today, we’re all slow and Indie is panting. On the path we see a long-haired dachshund. Michael and I take stabs at the dog’s name. I say Heinz, Michael guesses Rolf. I ask the owner who unplugs his earphones to tell me that his dog can’t be bothered to move today, it’s too hot. He laughs. I ask the dog’s name. It’s Raffy. Michael announces that his guess is closer and that he wins.

On the way home we meet our friend Steve coming towards us on the path. He also unplugs his earphones to talk to us. He says, “that dog looks exhausted.” Indie is hot and bothered.

Saturday, 24th July 2010

A quiet Saturday morning, the silence occasionally broken by a plane descending towards Heathrow. Pale brown birds jump from the park, through the fence, onto the path. When Indie approaches they duck back between the wrought iron bars. Inside the park there is a racket in one of the trees above my head. I suspect squirrels but discover two fat pigeons in a flap.

A selection of joggers dominate the park this morning. An older man wearing a maroon sweatshirt runs slowly beside his old white dog. The dog pants loudly. A tall blond woman with hair in a high ponytail trots past elegantly while a young man who looks like an eastern European shot putter splutters past in a wife beater vest, pounding the pavement forcefully and panting louder than the old white dog.

Friday, 23rd July 2010

Indie and I walk side by side with a woman walking an aged jack russell. The jack russell has a long snout and smiles an opened mouth shark smile, pointy teeth on display. Occasionally, he stops for a brief rest. When he stands still his body shakes. Indie stops to say hello and the two old dogs stand smiling, together. The jack russell’s owner has wandered ahead and now turns back to collect her dog with a warm smile and a gentle pat for each dog.

Thursday, 22nd July 2010

On the path, a voice alarm calls out that an intruder has been spotted, the police have been called. The words repeat as Indie and I walk by the violated house on the other side of the wall.

Having turned left upon entering the park, we walk down the dusty loop to Phillies for a late breakfast. Croissant and coffee for me, toast for Indie. A woman with dark glasses and a sleek pony tail sits next to us, reading her newspaper and occasionally calls out “Matt, Matt.”  I now know that this is the name of the man who runs Phillies. The woman with the ponytail is complaining about the time it’s taking to get her coffee. Indie and I have no problem with the slower pace.

We walk back past the opera. Piano music drifts out to us and a van advertising percussion specialists parks near the Holland Park Cafe. Since Indie insisted on turning left and taking the short route, I drift back around to take a longer look. In the gardens behind the Belvedere there are faded tiger lilies near the iris garden. In the Dutch gardens the country cottage flowers are thriving. My favorites are the foxgloves, for their sturdy pinkness as well as for their name. A peacock strolls with utter confidence amongst the plantings and doesn’t flinch as Indie and I approach.

A man does a handstand in the Japanese gardens. I can’t decided whether to admire his form and freedom or roll my eyes at his exhibitionism. Lord Holland’s pond is graced with fluffy ducklings, swimming in single file behind their parents. The pond is surrounded by tiger lilies, hale and hardy.

Sunday, 11th July 2010

Two big compliments for Indie. The first one, in the loop. A fellow golden retriever owner says how sprightly he is, especially for 13. I say, it’s the haircut. She says she’s considered it, but is afraid that clipping her dog’s hair will mess with his identity. “He’ll think he’s a labrador.”  The woman admires Indie’s head. I say yes, it’s big, she says, “It’s beautiful!” Later, on the path, another golden retriever owner tells Indie how smart and cool he looks in the summer heat.

Michael and I find seats at Phillie’s this morning. We order coffee and buttered toast for Indie. Indie sits at my feet waiting patiently for his order to arrive. He gobbles it down and silently declares his breakfast to be delicious. Near to us, a man chats on the phone. He picks up his tiny lap dog, and places him on the chair next to him. The lap dog watches us eating our breakfast, panting rapidly, shaking with excitement.

We watch a meat delivery truck come down the one way street the wrong way.

Saturday, 10th July 2010

Michael, Indie and I walk the path. Michael jogs to see if Indie will speed up. Indie smiles and gallops a few paces, then slows down, wagging his tail. Michael hooks him up to the lead as we enter the park. Indie insists that we go left.

The outside tables at Phillie’s are full so we head to Exeter Street Bakery. We have two large cappuccinos and Michael shares a croissant with Indie, who seems satisfied with his breakfast. The man with two westies goes into the shop, patting Indie. He says that he didn’t recognize him at first, with his short haircut.

We head back to the park, pulling Indie away from Phillie’s as we pass by. He is a loyal customer. He also approves of multiple meals.

Friday, 9th July 2010

On the path, two women I know from the kid’s nursery school days pass me, deep in conversation. I saw them from a distance, and I think that they saw me, but they sped by. Feeling like an unpopular school girl, I bend down to pat Indie, put him on the lead, and encourage him towards the park entrance.

A black poodle follows Indie down the loop, ignoring his owner’s calls to come back. Indie speeds up a bit, enjoying the attention, the chase. A young woman is on a mat  on the cycle path side of the loop, her personal trainer by her side. I cringe, thinking about all of the dogs that have made their deposits in that place. Indie goes close to the pair, has a discrete sniff, then trots a few paces ahead before lowering himself down for a pee.

The daughter of the woman who wears a flat navy cap in winter approaches. She is on her own today, sporting a bright yellow t-shirt, shorts and a Sponge Bob tote. She flashes us a sunny smile.