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.

Bucuresti Friday, January 28, 2000

Seven months have passed, hardly know where, trying to compress those seven months of thought and aggravation if you like. Certainly there has been aggravation ..there have also been some rather interesting moments at the other end of the spectrum.

August… decided we were rushed and needed someone to help. After a perhaps rapid succession of young ladies who only perceived the position as a place to unload their troubles, especially to myself when Cynthia was at work. Approached in Romana one wet and windy day by this rather wild looking young woman, obviously under pressure, desperate and quite nervous, then one would hardly expect to find someone sleek and composed looking for a housekeeping job.

Still remember the encounter .. mainly the way she clenched her hands and screwed up the furrows between her eyes .. her hair had nothing to thank the weather for. walked on ..hardly interested, so far as I was concerned, Sir Galahad slightly stiff in the limbs, his armor rusty and the horse out to graze after the battering with the AndreeA affair, Intended no more damsels in distress to be rescued …thank you very much.

Cynthia hung back chatting to her in the now pouring rain.. then she always had more patience in her little finger than I have in my whole body. She deciding the girl had some possibilities having made quite plain we were not interested in her obvious troubles…. if she were interested simply to work…….. ?


Late August, decided needed a break.. needed some sun, sea and anything else which goes with it. Asked Cynthia to telephone our not quite so tense “housekeeper “ ask if she would like to go to Costinesti for a few days, the girl quickly concurring. The look on her face realizing Cynthia was not coming with us as the train slowly left Gara De Nord, she out on the platform, waving and smiling until we curved out of sight..


Anyway.. back to reality, almost completely closed the door on England, that tiny island. Escaped from that humiliation …….. from being a foreigner in my own Country.

Today, in deep white snow, went to the Yugoslav embassy, offered a couple of copies of my comments on the Kosovo fiasco..
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