It’s getting cold now.
I’m straight from Cambodia.
The wind bites.
I decide to walk across the bridge to the National Theatre.
I know I can keep warm there.
Someone’s abandoned a jacket on the bridge.
I put it on.
It’s good quality.
I check the brand.
Thanks Mr. Fox.
The irony is superb.
Only he could set this up.
The great American playwright.
The only play I’ve seen by him is The Iceman Cometh with Kevin Spacey at The Old Vic.
The Iceman Cometh.
The Icehead Cometh more like.
They crack me up these producers.
Still, at least they aren’t letting me freeze to death.
I walk in my nice new warm jacket across the bridge.
A dreadlocked busker sings Bob Marley’s Redemption Song.
The lights across London in the dark are spectacular.
I stop and listen to the singer.
He’s obviously a plant as well.
What with me being arrested for my human rights protest in Phnom Penh.
And the human rights song I’ve been working on.
Won’t you help to sing
These songs of freedom?
Thanks God for this busker and for my jacket.
And thank you, Mr. Fox!