Nelson Galaxy

3am. I am woken by the sound of mooing. It must be a dream. I fall back to sleep. Again, woken by the sound of mooing. Boy, am I confused. If I lived in the countryside maybe this would be a regular sound. Living on the Mile End Road I am used to people shouting at the top of their voices as they are thrown out of the local pubs and gay clubs – football chants and sweary arguments are a particular favourite. The comforting sound of police sirens is also common. Mooing, now that’s a new one on me.

There it goes again and I am awake now. I get out of bed and go to the window in my negligee. (You have a window in your negligee?) I covertly peek through the curtains. Through the haze of windowpane condensation I can see a cow. . . in a harness. . . held by a crane. The poor creature is highlighted by a very powerful spotlight and is mooing and jerking its body in spastic bovine panic. Wow, have I gone totally bonkers? Again?

As I begin to recover from sleepy dreamy land I remember that there has been a film crew over the road. They have been in residence on Currys’ car park for a few days now, with their articulated lorries, busses and snack bars. I have no idea who they are or what they are filming. Hopefully there have been a few A-list stars milling about within near proximity of my flat – that’s as good as meeting them, isn’t it? What I do know is that it involves a cow on a crane.

I may just have dreamt it all. I once swore I had seen Labyrinth era David Bowie roller-skating over Blackfriars Bridge, just to realise it was a dream. . . . Or was it? Dance magic dance? I think so.