I had the weirdest dream last night. Paddy Power (bookmaker to toffs and gentry) wanted to build a garden and swimming pool on the roof of my apartment building. I was dead set against it, as it included a 20-foot high ‘Paddy Power’ sign in neon.
I’m not keen on corporate advertising above my home.
Anyway, my mercenary neighbours in the building all voted ‘yes’ (Paddy Power offered to pay each of us for the inconvenience) and lo and behold the garden was opened. It was as beautiful as they promised. Lots of plants, a gorgeous swimming pool, a jacuzzi, bar and plenty of space to sit in the (infrequent) sun.
Then, it all turned sour.
What our friends had neglected to tell us was a) the garden was going to be open to the public (and they started arriving in their many hundreds) and b) they’d signed a secret agreement with Michael O’Leary allowing him to land his new Ryanair helicopters on the same roof, to serve the nearby banks in Canary Wharf.
I became a lone protester, creating placards and chants, handing out leaflets and trying to persuade my neighbours to campaign with me. It was frustrating, as they all felt that the money more than paid for the inconvenience.
The helicopters started to arrive, utterly destroying the garden and emptying the pool of all its water. Visiting bankers began to knock on my apartment front door, asking me when the next helicopter to Heathrow was due.
Life, in short, became unpleasant.
I’m sorry to report my campaigning efforts were in vain, as I got into a personal argument with Michael O’Leary while up on the roof and he pushed me off.
And that’s when I woke up.
I’m not a believer in dream analysis, but serious: WTF?
Despite the utter bonkers nature of all of this, at the time it felt so real. I was a passionate campaigner and I could feel the vibrations of the helicopters as they landed upstairs.
No more yoghurt before bed, I think.