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.

Saturday, 3rd June, 1978, 2.a.m.

Very hot.

The hot nights only make my thoughts louder. Have just returned from one of my occasional tours of London. Sometimes something happens, mostly nothing does. The other a.m. I was "rewarded" if that is the only interpretation I am able to put on such a moment. For that brief period forgetting all the things which are dragging me into oblivion. Briefly becoming something approaching my old self, free of the nagging uncertainties and recriminations that I shout at myself most of the time. Tonight, went looking again, but the person I recognised so instantly, so convincingly, was, of course, not to be found.

Water my plants, watch them grow. Drive about, wait, knowing that nothing will ever happen. Remain silent, as there is no one to speak to. To some degree could be on the Moon, this is the amount of communication I have with this Planet. Changing direction, certainly, simply going down at a steeper angle than previously.

Jennifer literally disappeared, abruptly, leaving Mark and I. Disappeared at Heathrow last Wednesday, en route for Madrid. She had not bothered to get in touch, to ring... but why should she! What is there that now hangs us together? unable to think of anything .

And Carmen? Carmen remains the nucleus of all my myths and uncertainties I persist in remembering... only the good parts. I persist in hanging on to those.

The reason, possibly ... that there is nothing else to hang on too.
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