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.

The Black Bishop and his Wife

The car  was taking a hammering from the corrugations in the road, which twisted and turned through vegetated hills; sky-pilot's driving not helping any either, he had a habit of jerking the steering wheel about in an attempt to avoid the pot-holes which led to the car throwing itself all over the place. Occasionally we would come across a village sprawling in the dust, surrounded by filthy kids, yapping mangy dogs; on several occasions, men waved what looked like swords at us,  their gestures not exactly friendly,  beginning to be dubious about the whole trip. Kepps  evidently thinking the same, kept checking his directions. Looking at him, couldn't but think of the odd contrast we must have made; him in his black habit and myself dressed in white, neither of us looking too sure of ourselves, easy meat for the cooking pot, I thought, half wondering whether the locals still indulged in a little 'long pig', however, the ground leveled out rapidly  found ourselves on a wide cultivated plain, dotted with thatched wooden huts overlooked by a white stone church, a attached modern villa, the sort of thing one would expect to find on a quiet walk down an English lane.

Stopping outside, quickly surrounded by a group of natives who, judging by the expression on their faces, had never quite seen anything like us before, the Bishop, or whatever he was, found to be surprisingly young: A big, jet black bloke, evidently had been an athlete by the way he carried himself, but the good living had been too much, having developed a comfortable paunch which he had a habit of resting his hands across,  at the same time giving the world a fixed affable smile through thick rimless spectacles. The wife,  coffee coloured, beautiful, evidently had been well trained, for she never spoke in the course of the conversation without having been spoken to first. Somehow she disturbed me, hovering in the background, especially entering the house,  quite dark inside with candles burning on the tables, the place having a sharp flavour of the Far East, with some condescension to the church.

Kepps  impressed by the layout, like myself, probably didn't know what to make of it. The wife  evidently giving him trouble too,  on several occasions  caught him staring so that I had to bring him back to earth as gently as possible with a nudge from my foot. The Bishop remained inscrutable behind the glasses:  had the idea that he was enjoying himself,  no denying it, he had something - for me at any rate - a fresh slant on religion, as much as I disliked the mumbling of the clergy... but was he so free with his 'Flock' as he gave us the impression of being? ... spent the remainder of the afternoon on the verandah, the conversation drifting away from local topics to the more general one of cricket, which seemed to absorb the two ministers. For my part the subject had no interest,  found myself attempting conversation with the wife, but this was very one sided, her replies being mostly the 'yes and no' variety, so I preferred to watch the Sun  slowly sinking behind the hills - a blazing ball  flooding the landscape with such an intensity of red,  had the feeling of watching some  omen. The others too must have had a similar impression, becoming silent, watched, as though hypnotised - until finally the light faded, leaving us in  soft evening darkness. Must have all come down to earth together,  Kepps  standing finishing his drink, while I looked at my watch not realising the time had gone so swiftly, Momentarily, had  a sensation of wanting to stay, lost in this timeless land away from the absurdities of civilisation. Kepps too, rather thoughtful,  imagined that he was having some sort of struggle over the woman, although he never again mentioned her.
 Arriving back we had that not very pleasant experience of being late...the ship  ready to leave and they were waiting for us, due to some misdirection we had received on the way, sure if Kepps hadn't been with me, they would not have waited as had been done on one or two other occasions, the boys having been left standing on the wharf.  naturally enough... a lot of '"you'll be sorry'" and other remarks yelled at us,  rather inclined to agree, but Kepps fixed the Jaunty - no doubt with a free pass to heaven, and all was O.K.

Slid down to the office, hoping there wouldn't be anyone there, but Knocker was home, sitting immaculate in his white boiler suit.

 "So we can go now, I suppose?" he said, without looking up from the fuel oil readings.

Could see myself doing the rest of this trip on number nines; not being able to think of a suitable answer I didn't offer any. Fortunately the 'phone' rang, he went below not saying anything further. .. had the impression that he was 'bearing it in mind' as he usually put it.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Posted by

Niciun comentariu:

Trimiteți un comentariu

Abonați-vă la: Postare comentarii (Atom)