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.

Women.....not made like that any more

Time... a strange, distant affinity between Jennifer and my mother who looked upon the child, not as a close relative but an object of suspicion, something she had picked up once, maybe twice and quickly put down again. Never coming to this flat to visit although she lived almost across the road, such was her attitude.

One Xmas Day, Mark, about two years old, happened to look out of the window which faces directly onto the main road, directly onto the 'Swan' opposite, child in my arms ... looked out to see mother and the boyfriend about to nip into the pub ... Being what she was, she looked suddenly up and saw us both... never smiled, disappearing quickly between the doors ... and "A Merry Xmas to you" I thought.... you miserable old cow.

Takes a hard woman to pull a stroke like that... without the slightest doubt, my mother, the hardest woman I have ever known. Name anyone that would hitchhike "Back" to London at the height of the Blitz, two kids, one in arms. Came down through Barnet heavy gunfire, shrapnel bouncing off the road, sparks flying as it hit.

Nothing ever deterred her once she made up her mind. Who else would walk down to the pub in pitch darkness, sirens wailing, distant drone of Bombers approaching, ... first opening crescendo from heavy guns sited on the Marshes, who else leave two children to the cold comfort of an Air Raid Shelter, leave them in the arms of fate....who else......?!

Women.....not made like that any more.
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