In the morning, instead of walking to F-Park station I walk to Gunners Station it takes a little bit longer but I don't have to deal with main roads, screaming drunks, and the general misery around F-park. I walk past the art deco football stadium, and the rows of terrace houses. The sun is shining, parents drop their children off at the Victorian primary school, some arrive on the back of bicycles, some on their own little scooters, children of every race and colour. Even though the road is quiet there is a lollypop lady, ushering the children into school. Vimco's mother was a lollypop lady.

At the wooden kiosk next to the station I buy my paper and a bottle of water. It's always the same, the couple that run it know me, I don't even have to ask for what I want, they smile and tell me to have a good day.

But its not really a good day today.. in bed we watched the first pictures of war. The female reporter on breakfast TV scrambled for her gas mask, as a siren went off while she was on air, her arms shaking half way off camera as she struggled to put it on.

All day at work, listening to the radio over the internet, people on the phone getting angry. Iraqi's with family in Baghdad, London Cab drivers. School children demonstrating on the streets. The police are pulling school girls out of the road. The connection is bad voices speed up and slow down.

I leave work as soon as I can and get the tube down to Old St to meet Vimco. He is in the Griff with Dan. The Griff is exactly the same as it was back in the Falcons Nest days, back when it was our local. The paint work is a little grubbier. The land lord has retired but its my guess he still owns the place, keeping it out of the hands of greedy developers waiting to pull out its beautiful wonky Victorian interior.

Walking towards The Gallery I turn to look back at the Falcons Nest,(white blinds in the windows, but the paint work is still grotty) and over it, hovering, huge green and gigantic is the new Norman Foster building the 'erotic gherkin' http://gallery.future-i.com/London/pic:gerkin/

The sky line is changing.

Later at the Gallery, Henry wants to take my photo, we go out into the quiet hall way. I stand against a wall and watch him as he fiddles with a digital camera. His hands are shaking as he trys to get it working. His finger nails bitten to the bone, the pads of his fingers all pink and worn and sore. The once rosy cheeks are now hollow and covered with a thick layer of stubble. I suddenly realise that he has had some sort of breakdown, that he is ill. He said he only had half an hours sleep the night before.

This morning when I get into work, I found out that I've won the figure making competition I entered over Christmas. It was an internet competition, run by a website that sells vinyl toys. I get a cup with my name engraved on it, and a mystery box of figures and toys. I'm happy to have won, but it was a very amateur competition.. the other entrants standard was pretty low. I need to get more figures finished now and my website up and running. I'd love to have some sort of show this year.

ms gunn