As you know, I like looking at the ground when I walk. I also like looking at the sky – I’m versatile that way – but I’m working on a probably doomed project to be called Nicholson’s Guide to the Ground, and so the ground often takes precedence.
A few weeks back I was in Bristol staying in a mid-priced hotel, and as I checked in I was aware of some complicated road works right in front of the entrance, of which my hotel room gave a perfect view. There weren’t many signs of men at work when I checked in, but as darkness fell a crew arrived with trucks and lights and jack hammers and went at it, doing something inscrutable to the ground, something that involved but was not limited to, digging a hole.
They worked hard and loud but they did finish by ten o’ clock. Perhaps they had to. Next morning I hurried down to see exactly what they’d done to the ground.
They’d done this.
I was disappointed. I’d wanted more.
Here, on the other hand is some ground, actually on the bank of the River Avon, which I found much more to my taste.
