Toby Oliver's Blog
November 14, 2019
Excerpt form the Downing Street Plot
I was asked recently if there was a reason why I had written the following:
Spencer stood at the large window of Garvan’s office, gazing out across the river toward Westminster Bridge, thoughtfully watching the handover between sunset and the onset of dusk, it came quickly in winter. The Thames was lapping gunmetal grey against the walls of the embankment; overhead a flock of seagulls were mewing and squawking above the tidal river. They rarely, if ever, ventured this far up the estuary in such large numbers unless there was a severe storm out at sea. The light was fading rapidly, and a necklace of twinkling white lights had begun to flicker into life along the granite stone walls lining the embankment.
As a child, I remember staring out across the river wrapped in my father's arms, seated on the granite walls lining the river. It was magical moment, more so, as he passed away when I was still a child.
Spencer stood at the large window of Garvan’s office, gazing out across the river toward Westminster Bridge, thoughtfully watching the handover between sunset and the onset of dusk, it came quickly in winter. The Thames was lapping gunmetal grey against the walls of the embankment; overhead a flock of seagulls were mewing and squawking above the tidal river. They rarely, if ever, ventured this far up the estuary in such large numbers unless there was a severe storm out at sea. The light was fading rapidly, and a necklace of twinkling white lights had begun to flicker into life along the granite stone walls lining the embankment.
As a child, I remember staring out across the river wrapped in my father's arms, seated on the granite walls lining the river. It was magical moment, more so, as he passed away when I was still a child.
