I ventured on a journey to the ICA in London and this is what happened….
Looking into his eyes I wonder what endeavours he has seen throughout this night. How many times has he chased an assailant through the slick wet streets of London? Has he ever been shot? Or caught a murderer? Perhaps even busted a crack den?
The hated hero can be found on every street corner. He can be called at any hour after dialling a three digit number, and his station can be found surrounded by whaling cars flashing blue and red.
Tonight, he is my hero. Dressed in the traditional Bobby attire, silver crested helmet glinting in the moonlight, he asks “Are you alright Miss?”
I reply “No sir, I seem to have found myself lost. Do you know where the ICA is?”
With a smile he points out the building, but as I turn to leave, I find him at my side. At the door, he turns to me and says; “Have a good evening. And try not to get lost again.”
“Thank you”, I begin, but he is already on his way, ready to save the world once more.