28 Days Later

One of those surreal mornings today. I'd had another restless night (the bed as usual, but also an upset stomach wasn't helping much). My alarm had gone off several minutes ago, but I was still lying there, making imaginary patterns in my head out of the artex ceiling. I realised I was running late so after hurriedly getting ready and locating my missing shoe from under the wardrobe, I left the flat.

Everywhere was deserted. Now, I'm not saying I usually walk into the equivalent of central London at rush hour (it is 7am after all) but it was completely deserted. No traffic, no pedestrians, no cyclists - nothing. I could even hear a tin can rolling on the pavement 100 yards away. To add an edge of mystery to the scene, I then heard a peel of church bells striking the hour. I haven't heard church bells in months (I couldn't even tell you where my nearest place of worship is). I guess they were just automatic - the art of campanology is, I'm afraid to say, a dying one.

I walked on for a few paces, expecting a car or bus to come round the corner at any moment, but still nothing. I was Charlton Heston in 'The Omega Man' - the last human being on the planet.

Thankfully, by the time I got to the park, normality was resumed. There was an early morning jogger, and a few vehicles to break the eerie silence. I don't know if it was because I was running a few minutes late, or perhaps it's a public holiday in Southampton and no one has told me about it.

I suppose I should be grateful for a rare few minutes of tranquility, in a usually busy metropolis, but it was too spooky to be enjoyable!