But I might want to be a spectacle!

I'm increasingly fond of St. James's Park both as a space to practice, and a place in it's own right. It's on my route to and from work which makes it easy to spend time there. It's not the largest park in London by any measure, but it has a character I find lacking in behemoth like Hyde Park and Regent's Park.

It helps that it was one of the first places I visited in London, late on a summer's eve. Standing on the bridge across the lake, looking out at Whitehall across the aptly named Duck island as a light mist wreathed around it, is a memory that stays with me. The whole scene had a dreamlike quality I found rather appealing.

Being a consistent sort, I've carefully delineated my practice space. Between two trees on the north side of the park, not far from the Mall. It's a quiet enough area, but still close enough to a few thoroughfares that I can attract the attention of the odd passerby. And some passerbys are quite distinctly odd - a woman ran by me screaming a few days ago. As far as I could tell she was terrified of the squirrel that was chasing her. But I digress.

As I stood between my trees practicing my praying butterfly, a trio passed by me. One of them seemed inclined to stop and watch me, but another of his companions was less impressed, reeling off a list of all the places she'd seen contact jugglers performing and expressing a voluble desire to move on.

Her companion seemed slightly embarrassed and tried to issue an apology on her behalf (rarely a good idea - apologising for other people), saying she didn't want to make a spectacle out of me.

"But I might want to be spectacle!" I called after them in mock protest. I received a smile, but they continued walking away.

"Dismissed!" I cried out after them.

"Rejected!"

"Publicly humiliated!"

Because, you know, nothing expresses dismay quite so strongly as quoting a Disney villain....