I'll try and cover more "human interest" stories that will address the needs of the women in the blogosphere out there who want to read more on politics and social issues, but without the rant-wing writing* that passes for debate these days.
Yesterday, I decided to another "Harriet in the High Street" and chat with people at Brixton Market, Peckham being a bit of a no-go area after recent events, Brixton at least is on the way to Herne Hill so I pass by it often.
Unfortunately, as I exited Brixton Tube, I realised the main High Street was completely closed down. Apparently there'd been a terrible accident. It turns out that Naomi, one of the more colourful characters of Brixton Town Centre had been run over by a prison van.
I was surprised to hear from fellow accident gazers that she was just 30 years old. Looking at her, you'd think she was a youthful 55.
Naomi was a rather delightful person. Of course if you're not used to Brixton-type people, you might have found her intimidating. She was always seen laughing and shouting crazily in the gardens in Windrush Square, wearing her Marlboro Jacket and sometimes holding a can of "Tennants Super" although most times I'm sure it was Carlsberg Special Brew. Her favourite game was jumping into the middle of Brixton Road just as the lights turned green to scare the drivers.
The working classes certainly have an queer sense of humour, but it is not for me to question, only to accomodate.
It is a tribute to Lambeth borough and Brixton especially that such people find a comfortable place to be themselves. The van driver, obviously a nasty piece of work so ready to run over a harmless frail female just frolicking in his path.
R.I.P. Naomi, may you find space to gambol in peace in the great thoroughfares and busy arterial roads in the sky.
*My code for the right-wing ranting loonies. Aren't I clever?