Whale Cams

Went to Pimlico last night, early in the evening, and got met at the door by Jenny the nanny, one tiny toddler wobbling up behind her. "She's not here, they've all gone down to the river to see the whale". Jenny and I watched it on Sky and whenever the baby would grizzle for Thomas the Tank engine we'd point at the screen crying "its a whale!" and he'd get distracted for a bit of time.

The gravity of the newscaster's delivery was a delight. This is the kind of news story they should bring to the world's attention. There were police launches and men in the river, splashing at the whale to keep him (always referred to as "him") away from the banks where he might "beach". There were "Harolds" (helicopters) and dozens of whale cams and cut aways to footage from earlier in the day, showing the blue nose spurting water and giving a sense of his enormous size as he came alongside boats in the river.

There were wide maps of the Thames and close up maps of the key bridges he was passing - Battersea and Chelsea and Lambeth - and a bright red headline "whale in Thames - the latest". Experts would give short opinions, including one who said in the gravest "war is declared voice" - "no whale has ever been tracked this far up the Thames before" - as if it indicated some dire environmental disaster.

Then the front door crashed open and it seemed like ten thousand little, three foot high children piled into the front room, shouting about who'd seen him and the crowds on the river and one classmate could see him from her flat on the river (ah, her flat?).

The pizza delivery arrived as my mobile went. Then a mad drive through the rush hour traffic of London to get to a restaurant that had called to say they had my credit cards. My getaway car waited on a double yellow line outside. The manager handed over my bulging wallet saying "we kept waiting for you all day". The cook came out to see who'd been so stupid. Thanks guys. Then another mad drive, zooming through every amber light, to get us to the ice skating rink off Victoria Street.

You could hear the whoops and laughter far off. Mums would crash into the wooden barrier in front of me - "did you get all your cards" and everytime, a face would light up with joy. The rink was surrounded by modern, brightly lit skyscrapers but I felt like I was in a safe small town in Michigan.