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.

Mrs. Lascel and the two Arabs

Ruth and I had fallen into each other's way of living. The years had been good. The schism between her family and myself had only slightly healed. Certainly they were polite, distantly ... did a few jobs about the place for them, putting roses in the garden, cleaned out the fish pond. Surprised to find this in front of the house, covered in aggregate rubble. Thought it just a piece of marble. Surprised that once I had established it, people would stop and peer over the short wall ... front gardens were the accepted places for dustbins, rubbish or anything else that people wanted to get rid of.
Mrs. Lascel was openly condescending to me. To others, she was becoming more outrageous in her efforts to attract attention, to keep the focus on herself, not wanting to believe that years were creeping by ... her years.
One evening she appeared back at the house with two Arabs. Charming, beautifully dressed, evidently a 'find' from 'The Cafe de Paris'.
Mrs. Lascel assumed her usual place on the arm of the heavy leather chair, posing, her long legs showing ... ordering 'tea' from the 'au pair'. The men soon twigged as to what she was up to, surrounded by the boys, Vivian, Ruth and myself. They accepted the tea, smoked, from exotic cigarette holders, made their excuses, climbed into a silver 'Roller' and rushed silently off.

Mr. Lascel missed this small interlude. Quite by accident, I heard the 'au pair' filling him in with the details by way of grinding her axe, I should think.


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