Found Falling In The Light

Magic

"So munchkin, anything particular you want to do? To go?" Portia asked her niece, re-buckling her into her Booster seat, after their adventure in Hydes Park, which included getting chased by some wild geese, crying little screams, into a pond, getting her waist and down soaked.

That didn't stop the fucking honking barstards though.

"Could we go to Westminster Abbey? I might see Mrs White."

"Who" Portia asked her niece. "Oh! Mrs White, yeah, sure sweetheart..."

"Auntie Tia, is something the matter?"

"No love."

"We talked to your boyfriend earlier."

"That's alrigh-What the FUCK?"

"Yep. And mummy basically told him to bugger off. And what's "rump-pumpy"?"

"Nothing you need to know about Geraldene until your eighteen."

"Rumpy-pumpy?"

"Say that again, and I'll have that Easter bunny on toast."

"Westminster Abbey and Granny White?"

"Yep!"

About a minute later, they stopped at traffic lights, where Portia took the opportunity to turn on the radio.

"And coming up next, is Coldplay. Good morning on 9.19!"

As Portia took off, she grinned as she heard a little sigh of contempt come from the back seat.

Call it Magic

Call it Truth

I call it Magic

When I'm with You.

And I just got broken

Broken into two

Still I call it Magic

When I'm next to you.

Portia found herself staring at the people of busy, chaotic London, and wondered how very different and similar they all were. Teenagers with white headphone's in their ears, people everywhere, absolutely everywhere, on their blackberry's, everywhere. Walking, blackberry-carrying people, clogging up the streets of this city, all so hopeless and advantageous. Young mums multitasking, piggy-backing toddlers, and pushing prams, the bottoms loaded with grocery's, the occasional little foot, you could see, under the hood, moving around, being little. Portia wondered, and only wondered, what would happen if it all stopped. The double-decker buses, stop going backwards and forwards, loaded with tourists, all rugged up in anoraks and beanies, whereas everyone else would be wearing a cardigan and light scarf and hat.

And I don't,

And I don't,

And I don't,

And I don't,

And I don't,

I don't its true

No I don't,

No I don't,

No I don't

Want anybody else but you

Portia wondered whether if Big Ben stopped ticking and The London Eye stopped turning and the Queen's guards of Buckingham Palace stopped marching and wearing those ridiculous hats that made them look like Russians. Whether the Thames became clear as glass, and whether everyone stopped drinking tea. And prince Charles Whore became Queen, before she reaches seventy, or Queen at all.

Would it all still be the same? Just without those little things. Okay, I'll admit it, the tea thing is MASSIVE, but still.

Fucking hell no.

But thank god Camilla isn't Queen.

Prostitution rates would go up by 30% a month.

And human morals would drop 10% an hour.

Fucking quicker, if it's cheap and more than an hour.

And to think that Hookers would soon rise over hair-dressers.

The hookers would get more blow-jobs done in a day than most hair-dressers.

All the poor old ladies with frizzy hair.

(Coldplay's Magic, can be found on album, Ghost Stories)