what happens when you venture south of the river...

R and T headed south of the river this weekend (J was attending to 'family business', and despite rumours has not just finished another stint in rehab)

the sun was shining, the birds were alive and singing.....we began at borough market.. all was going well.

we then headed to the tate modern.

i was having a great time.....until

i saw this...

just when i thought i had fully recovered from a certain hitchcockesque encouter, i suddenly had flahbacks of that summer day in hyde park....
we were in our usual tanning positions, J had just returned with my favourite chips ever (dorritos), and it seemed like any other saturday:
a father was playing with his two young sons in the foreground. one of the boys was called boris. i dont think boris was very well behaved because his father kept yelling his name. he perhaps resented being called boris. upon closer inspection we saw that boris was holding a massive dead bird (not dis-similar to the above)...
he was trying to make it fly, he was cradling it, he was trying to pull it apart. generally man handling a massive dead bird. his father seemed oblivious to this behaviour, so did most onlookers. (he did however say they cant take the bird home when boris asked)

J and i sat there baffled, and asked "since when is it ok to play with dead birds!!" isn't that parenting 101?
we even knew that the answer is "it isn't"... its definitely up there with not calling your son boris....
let that be a lesson to parents of the grove