Flip Flop Flying

A man on a groaning bicycle whistling Don’t Worry Be Happy exceedingly loudly; the anarcho-grufty-punky folks in one of the flats across the street screaming at each other; the scary man across the street – our Boo Radley – doing some carpentry topless on his balcony; an Asian woman tripping in her flip flops every few yards as she walked down the street; a happy, bouncing Cocker Spaniel with a short haircut; a man in a wheelchair with a cloth shopping bag on his head; a slow, waddling, lovely-looking Bull Terrier smiling like a dolphin; a man taping an A4 photocopied notice to a lamp post, and the wind blowing other sheets of paper across the road; two woman running into each other on the doorstep of a chemist’s shop, and embracing like long-lost friends; a guy playing air guitar at a table outside a cafe; and a man in a charity shop asking if they had any keys.
All that on top of dreaming about a satellite crashing into a windmill on a beach; it’s been a lovely day.
(Actually, it hasn’t; it’s been a fairly ordinary, hot, stifling, un-creative day. But I’m trying to be a bit more positive.)