It's been so long I forgot the controls. There have been balloons in the past 18 months, dozens have flown away or rolled past on dirty streets: some missed, some snapped and unposted, a couple even ignored, and all of course doomed. But perhaps none so joyfully, wilfully doomed as these. The dog is called Flop, who at the time of the last entry had just started a very different life of meadows, Morden Hall Park and my friend with a fine memory. Flop got a good break then. 18 months on, the balloons of South-West London have a new foe.
I'm very grateful for the reminder, especially such a cheery high-energy summery reminder as this. I doubt the gritty balloons in gutters in passing will raise such a smile as this did, but they'll remind me of this for a while now, which is wonderful.
