City in Winter

GCSE Religious Studies (Philosophy & Ethics)

City in Winter

The lonely street once abundant in carnival colours lies breathless in the morning chill. The wind washes the detritus of leaves into the morbid, shadow filled back-alleys and ginnels. The relics of the summer holidays are discarded or kept in anticipation of next year. The wasps swash and swarm the sheer mountains of waste and refuse. Outside the pub a rabble of various bottles, maladroitly strewn the night before, roll around lazily in drunken circles.

The Cathedral's grounds shimmering yet bleak, are overlooked by the posse of death black crows, like an L.A. gang, surveying and protecting their turf. With their harsh caws and sharp claws, the crows patrol the winter garden. Along the city walls the few remaining colonies of moss, hardly carpets, merely samples, cast-offs from mother natures substantial wardrobe, remind us of the fruitful summer passed. Ants busily clamber into cracks in the jigsaw-like pavement, regardless of anything in their multiple "to and fro" paths.

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The wandering river trundles on, searching for new life to contain and nurture, perhaps to take. The mangled pieces of driftwood rise up and out of the swirling waters then sink down like a capsizing ship making its final groaning descent into the murky depths of the grieving waters. Under the arched bridge the newly woven starling's nest wavers precariously in the winter wind while red-breasted robins and energetic blue tits light up the dreary city skyline with their wonderful livery and chirping songs.

The constantly humming stream of cars flow steadily through the city centre, coughing out billowing clouds of black smoke, polluting and suffocating the nearby woodlands. In which the few remaining green trees stand proud but wounded by the daily barrage of burning, smoky attacks and winters harsh frost, enclosed in a tight ring of lifeless, leafless, skeletal trees. Together they struggle to keep the bin bags from their finger-like branches and their cruel, coarse, yet delicate skin.

In the main square the band stand appears ghostly white and uninhabited, while around it, shoppers go about their business, trying desperately to avoid the muddy puddles and parking space muddles that stressfully inconvenience them. The Christmas lights, once again, are being brought out and prematurely exhibited the annual advent fever grips the nation in the frenzied search for "that" toy, the elusive Furby or Teletubby which will bring happiness to families, at least for one day of the year.

As midday announces its long awaited arrival with a burning flame, the modest crowds of middle-aged men wander into the local pubs and betting shops questing for the win that will solve all their problems, but it never does. Pigeons cluster around scraps of sandwich crusts or crumbs left outside the classy, yet tacky looking Italian coffee bars which contain some of the richest and most artificial characters of the business and fashion worlds.

Children, wrapped almost as tight as a boa constrictor's coil, play merrily in the park, watched by proud parents and strange old men in long coats. The blinding sun reflects off the snowy slush, which covers the swings and slides. The park keeper's shed is prey to clinging ivy and the once pristine flowerbeds are now overgrown and uninspiring, even the "Don't walk on the grass sign" is hidden behind a wall of emerald stakes. The park keeper himself reclines lazily and lets winter take its toll on the gardens, as he considers doing the Times crossword, but is content with warming his feet by his electric fire.

At night the buildings' uninteresting and opaque faces, spring to life with a multitude of resplendent and radiating lights. The once monotonous city is now filled with the animated and energetic sounds of young clubbers heading almost religiously to their favourite stamping grounds. The deafening bass thumps out a beat that dominates the whole town waking the nocturnal beings that haunt the city's streets. A few hours later the hoards of semi-conscious nearly-adults drift, almost spectre like, past the collection of cheap hookers with their pimps and dealers offering you whatever you want to liven up your night. As the last few drunks and other assorted nocturnal people leave the city, all returns to tranquillity and it prepares itself for another bleak winter morning.