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Ronan's report


Friday January 9th, 2009

Jimmy the Wig, ZA company enforcer and master of disguise, sheltered briefly behind the Bihar Chorten at the ice blasted summit of Mill Hill. From this remote vantage point he could see south across the bleak wastes of the Brent valley to the distant peaks of Hampstead and west to the prayer flags that fluttered bright in the pale winter light on the slopes of High Harrow.

He travelled east, taking the precipitous rock path, worn ice smooth by millennia of barefoot pilgrims, which led him down through the glacier scoured cwm and through the wind twisted scrub that offered a feeble tree line above the banks of the Upper Dollis Brook.

Here he waited. Where the low falls of the tiny stream had frozen, a thousand crystal spears drip formed about the single strands of hanging moss, low sun shot fragments of lens large green in a landscape of otherwise chilled and unremitting white.

Turning to the north and moving one foot slightly forwards, Jimmy bowed slow and deep and began to move hands and body with a peculiar grace and rhythm and whispered in his strange, wiggy way.

"grasp the birds tail...weave hand held like high clouds...back fist chop right"

"turn with slanted flying right ....whip....., deflect and punch grey heron"

Suffering an odd sensation of unaccustomed dissatisfaction, he repositioned his feet in a more open stance and began again.

"grasp the birds tail, left.....turn with slanted flying left...step back and repulse the monkey"

"No good.....No good" he said to himself irritably.

"back fist chop left"

"thrusting palm left.....right"

He squared to the gusts that so chilled the bones in the ageing hands of the old ZA fixer....

"black snake darts out its tongue....and strikes"

"red pointing fist.... left ear, right ear"

"white crane slow beats his great wings....needle to the moons of Jupiter"

"draw the bow and shoot the tiger........."

" AAH FEK"......he mouthed....

... and his imaginary line fell in an uncontrolled pile, blown back by the savagery of the howling winter winds.


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