london fields

On London Fields they still play cricket. With some ferocity. Towards sunset swarms of cyclists arrive like a benevolent, fluorescent plague. This being London (and a field) you can bid farewell to 20 years of your life, mas o menos, without any great drama. Without any overarching sense of theatre. With an understated, barely acknowledged theatre. On a green, latterly fluorescent stage. With that graciousness which goes with London at its best, and fields, at their best. The act can be executed discreetly, even enjoyably, with random conversation and obscure cheese. For this reason, if no other, the city retains the charm it has spent millennia cultivating. As does the field.