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.

Jennifer, Mark and Vie's Wedding

Jenny created Mark's birthday on the 17th April 1972. Exactly two weeks after mine. She had tried, for some reason of her own, to have him on the 3rd. Appeared unperturbed Hackney Hospital had her plugged into a computer for the birth, something very new to me, maybe just getting out of touch, a very long chronological gap between Jenny and myself, yet never evident, never fell between us.

My mother never visited her, neither did hers, we were enveloped in isolation, I was used to it, if Jennifer cared about this sad attitude she never showed. Collected mother and child from the Hospital, such a lovely spring evening, nurses gathered round, waved and smiled. We chugged off in the old Cab, hardly knowing where this particular road would lead the three of us.
Shall I say that the old man fell into a long period of relative calm, that slowly, imperceptibly, my life revolved totally about Jennifer and Mark, that the aimless in my life disappeared, that the past became submerged in the present, surprised when Vie invited us to her wedding to the Glaring man, impossible to remain completely cut off from what had been. The wedding, no more, no less than anticipated. Vie dressed 1940, the whole atmosphere hanging heavily in the past. The Glaring man glared at me... as if, even in those last moments, I would somehow snatch his "prize" from him ... those long months of toiling, of keeping other men away... a dog with a bone...
I looked at Vie, Vie looked at Jennifer, Jennifer looked at us all with some disbelief, with some incredulity,
We left early... climbed in the cab... Jenny suddenly shrieked with laughter, even in bed, squatting hard on top of me, her long hair hanging down touching my chest, the sweat running in rivulets, straight out of my body, she still did not stop laughing.


Jennifer became very rich in our terms, coming into almost five grand compensation from her flight through the wall, enough money to buy a decent house . ‘House’ still a word that stirred up quite a lot of dark water in my mind... We bought a brand new caravan instead... down on the beach in Essex, at "Stone". The balance of the money going into Stocks and Shares... respectable roulette...
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