The night creatures of London live in a very different place from you or I. They’re here, just the same, but also not so, let me explain…
When you see the streak of a gentleman foxes’ tail as he runs by, you won’t always notice the fine tweed suit he may be wearing of a convenient fox hair copper colour. You don’t always see the underground club he frequents, night after night, as he dances away to jazz played by jazz cats, and sometimes charms his way into the dens of others. If you’re just as charming as a fox, they may even escort you home from time to time, as they only enjoy the company of creatures as charismatic as themselves, sharing a tale or two of their escapades as you stroll through the dark streets side by side, and then nod your goodbyes at the door.
The other kind of fox that you may of observed, rummaging through dustbins and have wispy, ratatat tails, rather than luxurious, full brushes that would often be draped around oneself to enjoy the feeling of complete soft cocoonment. Those ratatat skinny folk, are indeed naked, and they are rummaging for scraps to barter for things that will only lead to their demise. Both kinds are cunning creatures of course, but only one remains on top.
The squirrels lead a less sordid life than the fox, as you can imagine. Although they do steal from one another, sneakily watching from the rooftops and branches at where other squirrel folk may be burying their goods. Of course if one was to get caught, they would innocently deny any criminal activity and mosey on, flicking their delicate full tails at the audacity of the accusers.
Then there’s the ravens, the crows, the owls and the bats. The flighted night creatures are the most mysterious of all. We don’t know much about them.
But the pigeons, we do. They keep the city going as they listen to the rushing suits and gather important information, unbeknownst to the suited themselves, and then pass on their knowledge over business lunches at Trafalgar Square mostly, posing as mere meandering flocks. They keep the cogs ticking, just as Big Ben strikes ten.
The rats and the mice work the underground system, they are ruled by a tyrant of an old monarchic system, that is far too great to be overthrown. His name is Rat King Stanley if you didn’t know. You should know. The mental conditioning is too strong down here with the rats, and the patriarchy too tight for the mice.
The others are like shadows, they’re there but no one cares that much, of the humble hidden hedgehogs and the constant mithering moths, they live quietly around the outskirts, minding their own business..mostly. And so lastly, we meet the badger, the badger is the noblest of all. The badger is the honest worker, the one with integrity and most soul.
So the night creatures live amongst us, and during nightfall they rule the ways. And one of their favourite spots to haunt is Conduit Street, so I observe them as they play.
Although Conduit Street is not as it is in the day. It becomes what it is, a conduit water way, and who rows the boats I hear you think? But the esteemed, salt of the earth badgers! They’d never let you sink. So as we row, row, row into the dark, dark night, the creatures board and one by one get off to wreak havoc, and of course, stir fright.
They sing, and they jaunt, and they dance, and they flaunt, and they weave magic of the kind that is blackened. And I watch, and I listen, and sometimes I join in with them, although usually it’s best if I stay hidden, and then I eventually always end up on the river bank..never really remembering exactly how I got back…?
I might find a feather in my hair, or a slither of a memory returns to be seen, or a passing creature would judgingly stare..but I know where I have been. What really matters, is that I know I was there, and anything else, I neither know nor do I care! Because I will always have this story to share, of Conduit Street .
Fin.