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.

We Went Sailing

Slightly surprised. Jennifer appeared back on the scene as promised, little I could have done about it if she had not. As I was to find out, America is a very big country.

Mark, subdued on his appearance here in the flat. Tried to put a brave, hopeful face on the situation... Getting his train set down getting it up and running. They, doing no more than standing about waiting, unsure. Each heavy moment ticking by the overcast atmosphere.
Again, searching about for something too say, asked the completely wrong question.
"What did you do on Xmas day Mark?"
He looked at his mother ... then, half at myself.
"We went sailing" his voice flat, as if the incredible experience of the flight. Sunlight on the Water, Wind in the White Sails, some dream, which he had now woken from, woken abruptly, back in the grime of Darkest Hackney.

That was it.
Told him to get his bits and pieces... his Teddy Bear, the old blanket he always slept with.


An air of disbelief, a element of fear flickered forwards and backwards between mother and son as they, almost on tip toe, went through the flat, hurriedly gathering up pieces of what had been.. their lives, pieces of myself.

Jennifer, on her very best behaviour going into the huge hall cupboard taking everything she had been forced to leave on her ignominious throw out. Never realised she had accumulated so much gear... her perfume still lingering, about all that would remain of them...
Rather expensive car sitting down in the street, outside the pub. Geyser, looking apprehensively up at these windows... the "Boy friend"

They stood in the hall, street door half open. I never offered any help down the stairs...

I had helped her up.

Maybe, momentarily she felt some sorrow, perhaps recalling that first morning on her crutches. Pygmalion, always saw the situation, on a lower scale. I, not a professor, she could quite easily have been a flower girl.

They waved as they rustled down the stairs, some urgency, as if, at the very last moment, I might simply blow a fuse barring their escape, it had been all too easy.


**********************
Posted by

Niciun comentariu:

Trimiteți un comentariu

Abonați-vă la: Postare comentarii (Atom)