Still, have it on internet.. this quite satisfied with… wondering where the words will reach. Cynthia maintains I never have wanted to sell it, always slightly dubious as to which way other people, strangers, will manipulate it to other ends. As it is, can sit here in Bucuresti and take a long look at England, never able to accept that which successive governments forced upon us, unable, unwilling to accept that I ….
“Must learn to live with Black People”
England, an island now consider having lost itself, this irreparable damage, all within the last fifty years, its cohesion, culture, seriously threatened. Someone remarking, rather lucidly,
“England has a identity crisis.” … Ancient English Kings turning in their graves .
My solution, for the declining, politically correct, rigidly controlled, by hard, hatchet faced, feminists, the “Head in the Sand” attitude of a weakened, floundering, matriarch England… a land of “spin doctors “..whatever this may mean, imply. A strange, weird, “Minister Without Portfolio” with quite apparent unlimited power, used from the shadows. No, my only possible solution, is to leave .. never able to come to terms with the underlying reality.. the underlying apprehension …
………. the fear .
“Why is it that no one has stood up and spoken out against this drift ?” .
Aware one or two people have ‘dared’ …only to be pulled down, shouted down .. indeed, mostly by the ferocious howls of ‘racist’ from black faced members of The English Parliament who so clearly see the inherent threat to their , perhaps tenuous position….. So be it
Sit here and smile, thank Mrs. Thatcher.. Dear God, thank her for giving me the opportunity to escape, although she did not quite see it like that.. assumed I would buy my council flat, which I did and vote Tory, which I did not.. never having been guilty of voting, only in this present case, sitting here, looking out, my wide view encompassing the rather better part of Bucuresti.. the Athenaeum.. The Hilton Hotel..
Once wrote, back in darkest Hackney
“Hackney to the Hilton Hotel ?..one million miles.!!.”
Have lived to travel that distance.
Yes, I voted …with both feet.
Not imperative to have read book one, although this rests firmly on it.
As with that volume, there is not a beginning, middle end, rather a kalaidascope of time, people and places.
Thought I would have more to say about this so long projected start, the final count down, my long flight from Hackney, from Clapton Common.. a nightmare ago.
Even now, Hackney beckons, whispers, its open, running sores of seething humanity still quite vivid in my mind.
The “Swan” opposite, as on so many other Friday nights, all 1,642 of them, …..10.45 p.m. the establishment fully wound up.. hot, beat of heavy sounds, fresh from the jungle.
Loud, occasionall shreiks reaching from the street below, girls, unable to contain their orgasms any longer.
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