What animals does everyone look like?
The thing with Holland Park, the thing, the reason, the whole point of it was the houses. Those gorgeous white houses, and the wide roads and the trees as big as elephants. Harriet left the tube and threw the poppies into the garden of one of the very nice dwellings. They'll grow roots and turn into lovely paper poppies. Or biodegrade. Actually, thought Harriet, Hazza, our heroine here, if they don't return to the earth, then it just makes another reason why they are No Good. That plastic stem? That'll be alive long after all the battles being fought now are over.
Harriet has a bitter streak.
She plays Knock Down Ginger. No one answers at that house, so she calls through the letter box. "POOPPPPPPPPPIIIESSSSS. For you."
She's on the run again, and dips into a pub. The Castle, it's called. And inside it's filled with junk and playing heavy music and has the lights too low. She orders half a cider, and sits at a table.
A man wanders to the toilet with a white streak in his hair. Raccoon.
Two ladies quickstep to the bar like little birds.
A woman creaks in her chair, shuffles towards her mashed potato meal. She's a koala.
Harriet taps her feet to the excellent music now playing in the pub. It's Joy Division and she's humming. There's a man nearby. She's looking at him pecking into his phone. "CHICKEN" she shouts.