The bottom line of this perhaps rather long narrative, is not, as I initially started out as a perhaps green, green badge cab driver, who did not move to the valley of Diesel “Ilford” with the obligatory new cab, wife, mortgage and two kids.

No one more surprised than I at the realisation of what has materialised, a first hand description humiliation and deprivation of the British working class from the 1930's.

This erosion brought about entirely by deliberate policy of successive governments.. and the ten draconian years of Tony Blair who deliberately, for whatever reason, encouraged the influx of irrepresible waves of the World's disenchanted onto these shores, by doing so, creating a powerful, intimidating, devisive weapon against the indigenous labouring masses and a hard core of … crime, poverty and unemployment… the triple iron fist of all governments,plus Enron, 9/11, Afghan conflict over oil, Kosovo all emphatically used by Blair; any outcry was by "politically incorrect racists" as Dr David Kelly was to find to the cost of his life.

The differential between rich and poor, is greater now, than during the Middle Ages.

Back to Brenda

Back to Brenda... to the basic tenements of existence..

Brenda moved house quite suddenly. Moved along Lea Bridge Road... to Leyton. Not far from here, but once across the marshes, a noticeable change of atmosphere. The heavy mixture of Orthodox Jews, West Indians, Africans, Turks, Kurds, Greeks, Poles, Irish, a mixture possibly, of every country in the World... all thrown into Hackney by the one over riding factor.. Poverty. The Steps Of the Town Hall being the resting place of the weary world's disenchanted, people that no one else wants, desires, needs, requires... People simply drifting in on each successive tide of opportunity. Leyton, slightly more open, Indians, Pakistanis, completely entrenched, some small backwaters of old English people remaining.

To one of these Brenda saw fit to move. £11.000, she paid cash for an upstairs flat. Row upon row of these two story houses had been put up about one hundred years previous. Peter brought back into favour, she remembered I had been a electrician in the year dot. The whole place needed, besides everything else, a complete rewire. She had made a handsome profit out of the Mausoleum, the huge house with so very many bad memories. Comparatively affluent, but the money went fast.. new everything. I slept easier there.. a relative calm. Her husband had also bought exactly the same flat round the corner, no problem. A Irish lady had quickly snapped him up, entangled him, aware his income, more than she had ever dreamed of... quickly making sure of a pregnancy. The Irish being what they are, subordinated him into marriage as a "must".

Poor man, no experience of women other than his domination of Brenda, which had painfully misfired, easy pickings for the Irish contingent. It must have been quite painful for him to wake up beside the Irish Lady and a screaming child. Not a very good move when considering his previous wife... how she had waited on his every whim. I was told with some relish that he had to do his own washing up, his clothes, he had to take to the Launderette.. all those tricks.. As for breakfast in bed.. bolting the doors at nine p.m. ...! If the lady was only a shadow of my Mother, he was in for a very hard time. Without the slightest possibility of escape.
Posted by

Niciun comentariu:

Trimiteți un comentariu

Abonați-vă la: Postare comentarii (Atom)