Snow thawing on Clapton Common.. still the cars rushing incessantly along between the trees. A difficult, long day on the streets.. the clamour for Xmas gathering momentum.
Have been thinking, as always, Cynthia's remark to me in her letter regarding Aurora.. that she was a "Energy Vampire" evidently, also, something of a masochist as she lets her elderly, ridiculous husband, beat her.. keeps her almost a prisoner.. Him so Ugly and she a thirty eight year old attractive female.. A geography teacher.. Cynthia is right about her.. then I am beginning to realise she, like Bernie, is never far wrong when it comes to weighing people up. Have given a Aurora a few pulls...she always giving out the impression ..that impression. When it actually came to it, as it did on the night or my wedding "reception" she bottled out. Half way through in the darkened room, suddenly pulling back, asked if she could light a cigarette ..asked also why I wanted to Fuck her. Remarked on this to Cynthia...a strange question ..one to which there is no possible answer, if there were, the World would doubtlessly be a different place.
All very pleasant, polite ..she straightened her clothes, finished her cigarette, we had another drink and went into the other part of the flat which was complete madness.. No one remarked on our absence.. Cynthia dragging me straight into the middle of the room dancing ..so much for Cynthia...so much for Aurora............
Simply, this is all getting round to Anna.. I have had thoughts.. She precisely the same.. Quite willing to let me go so far.. in doing so absorbing my energy.. always felt depleted, exhausted when she left this room.. Cynthia crystallized this aspect of women for me, also coming up with the idea of our "Adopting Anna" not in the sense usually associated ..more that Anna would live with us and produce a child....Visions of Anna, what a cow she could be if crossed.. if she did not get all her own way.. never giving anything ..always absorbing, always taking.. another Susan, another Jennifer, Nit, Pa, another so many female faces. Cynthia giving everything ..which is why I married her, have no intention of prolonging her 'agony?' over bloody Anna, all she ever gave, a Teddy Bear last Xmas, which still sits beside my bed.. She demanded and took plenty. No intention of letting Anna attempting to run our lives ... a unwanted wedge between myself and my…. wife. As said very early on, there is little difference between her perception and any Thai lady necessarily on the make. Nevertheless.. my feelings about her well known to anyone who has persevered with this long, perhaps complex, narrative.
Will make the most terrible remark.. which I hope to be forgiven ...'Love is blind'
Marrying Cynthia opened my eyes, to many things. Possibly a strange comment from someone who always considered he had seen it all, done it all, having the 'T' shirt to prove it.
*********************
Se afișează postările cu eticheta Anna. Afișați toate postările
Se afișează postările cu eticheta Anna. Afișați toate postările
Tuesday .October 17th. 1995. 7.a.m.
Thought I may as well adjourn the proceedings just here as my life has taken a rather abrupt, unexpected twist.
Returned from Bucharest Sunday Lunch time.. Seven hours door to door, a brilliant warm day.
Cynthia had been none committal the first few days of my stay with her. She had rung Anna.. now firmly entrenched in Poland with her family. Cyn brightly asking her to come to 'Us'. Rather taken with the idea of Anna on the Warsaw.. Bucharest Express ..so Romantic.. so Nineteen Forties.. so Metro Goldwyn Mayer. Knew she would not come, that she was afraid to venture out into the Wide World after her previous traumatic experience. Cynthia knows precisely my feelings regarding this young woman yet she went each step of the way with me.. who else?
Cynthia only slightly mentioned that it would cost $800 for the 'Medical' if I wanted to Marry her.. something wrong, on two counts.. Marriage had been on her agenda.. I had simply mulled it over.. willing to let it remain on hold.. Shades of Adelaide... then the price.. $800.. said she was not worth it, as she was second hand.. took that remark very well.. pointless going any further if she had not. Asked how much it would cost to marry a Romanian.. £1.50. conceded it rather a stitch up.. that the State was putting a high price on its Marriageable females.. to foreigners. Evidently Arabs pay up eagerly in their rush to get these buxom, well built ladies into bed. I had never been eager about anything..
Cynthia remained silent on the subject.. only.. until the next day!
Had never underestimated her, but she excelled herself, putting the bit between her teeth, tearing into 'The System'. Simply Thailand all over again, bribe your way in and out of any conceivable situation.. Romanian Officialdom wearing the same suits (not quite so smart) same shirts, collars, ties (undone).. Hardly the same fixed smile as their Far East counterpart. Romanian men, louts, to say the least. Rudeness "in built". I understand the mentality of the Serbs down the road tearing themselves to pieces.. it would take little for the Romanian male to use the machine guns rather than carry them openly about the streets. Admittedly, they have cooled it at the Airport since I have been going there. No longer marching about in uniform waiting for someone to look the wrong way.
**************************
For the first time in my life, took the back seat while a woman did the running.. Simply followed.. signed pieces of paper silently, without comment.. while she bribed her way through the system. Dark, decaying, crowded rooms and corridors, whispered words, money surreptitiously changing hands. Obviously, had never realised her own capabilities .. the sense of achievement made her throat parched, the blood rush, exhilarated by the experience.
Cynthia managed to reduce her price from $800 to $100. Very pleased with herself but not satisfied, wanted to marry "now"...not later, not some other trip.
Only having two more days left on my ticket, assumed myself to be quite safe for the time being, even smiled to myself.. that this new Cynthia could not pull it off ..the requirement being a minimum ten day stay.. after the papers were signed. "Get out of that!" I thought.
Returned from Bucharest Sunday Lunch time.. Seven hours door to door, a brilliant warm day.
Cynthia had been none committal the first few days of my stay with her. She had rung Anna.. now firmly entrenched in Poland with her family. Cyn brightly asking her to come to 'Us'. Rather taken with the idea of Anna on the Warsaw.. Bucharest Express ..so Romantic.. so Nineteen Forties.. so Metro Goldwyn Mayer. Knew she would not come, that she was afraid to venture out into the Wide World after her previous traumatic experience. Cynthia knows precisely my feelings regarding this young woman yet she went each step of the way with me.. who else?
Cynthia only slightly mentioned that it would cost $800 for the 'Medical' if I wanted to Marry her.. something wrong, on two counts.. Marriage had been on her agenda.. I had simply mulled it over.. willing to let it remain on hold.. Shades of Adelaide... then the price.. $800.. said she was not worth it, as she was second hand.. took that remark very well.. pointless going any further if she had not. Asked how much it would cost to marry a Romanian.. £1.50. conceded it rather a stitch up.. that the State was putting a high price on its Marriageable females.. to foreigners. Evidently Arabs pay up eagerly in their rush to get these buxom, well built ladies into bed. I had never been eager about anything..
Cynthia remained silent on the subject.. only.. until the next day!
Had never underestimated her, but she excelled herself, putting the bit between her teeth, tearing into 'The System'. Simply Thailand all over again, bribe your way in and out of any conceivable situation.. Romanian Officialdom wearing the same suits (not quite so smart) same shirts, collars, ties (undone).. Hardly the same fixed smile as their Far East counterpart. Romanian men, louts, to say the least. Rudeness "in built". I understand the mentality of the Serbs down the road tearing themselves to pieces.. it would take little for the Romanian male to use the machine guns rather than carry them openly about the streets. Admittedly, they have cooled it at the Airport since I have been going there. No longer marching about in uniform waiting for someone to look the wrong way.
**************************
For the first time in my life, took the back seat while a woman did the running.. Simply followed.. signed pieces of paper silently, without comment.. while she bribed her way through the system. Dark, decaying, crowded rooms and corridors, whispered words, money surreptitiously changing hands. Obviously, had never realised her own capabilities .. the sense of achievement made her throat parched, the blood rush, exhilarated by the experience.
Cynthia managed to reduce her price from $800 to $100. Very pleased with herself but not satisfied, wanted to marry "now"...not later, not some other trip.
Only having two more days left on my ticket, assumed myself to be quite safe for the time being, even smiled to myself.. that this new Cynthia could not pull it off ..the requirement being a minimum ten day stay.. after the papers were signed. "Get out of that!" I thought.
Mozart and Salieri
Quite by circumstance almost run Anna over in Seven Sisters Road as I was going to work one evening. Still in that same long dress, still with the plastic red heart round her neck on a piece of black cord.. however, she was sporting a expensive camera! had taken very seriously my comments on her in this book. Never spoke when I stopped, climbed in the back, drove silently here. Did not mess about, took her straight in the bedroom with the plant's tendrils curling and turning about the green bed. She baulked, stopped dead, still had not spoken. She abruptly went into the bathroom, that decisive moment gone. Gently asked about the Camera, which she had not put down, still holding it between her hands as if I would take it from her, knowing the money spent on she owed me, a great deal more beside. Asked tentatively about this.. no comment. Twisting to the attack, demanding why I had mentioned Sylvia ?.. Said I would be quite happy to retract if it were not true. Had she forgotten how terribly in 'love' she was with Sylvia! How she had told me various aspect of the affair with some satisfaction.
Silence.
Looked at her, feeling so very sad. Obvious she had become unbalanced in many respects, appeared unwell. Unfortunately I do feel that much of what has happened to place her so is to do with me, not be the first woman I have sent up the wall, possibly not the last. Told Cynthia this, she cut back about being quite mad already.
Both walked down the stairs in silence, as if she were someone picked up on the 'Cross', exactly the same stiff atmosphere between us. The only difference being she had not made any money and I not the slightest satisfaction. Asked curtly where she would like to be dropped, wanted me to take her home to Woodside Park... hardly doing that. Stopped at Manor House. Let the stupid, sullen bitch take the Tube. She climbed out slamming the door behind her, never looked back, never said "Good-bye", "Thank you", "Bollocks" or "kiss my Arse"! Still, had not put my hand in my pocket, just another hour wasted fucking about with her.
Drove away, same faint relief as if she were a brass.. maybe she finally has become just that, the simple solution to so many problems.. she does possess all the attributes, this idea occurred to me a long time previously.
Little more to say about Anna, again the complete ellipse, again the same sad ending, the same sad misunderstandings, the divergences, the creation of insurmountable obstacles .
*********************************
It is just Dawn, Sun climbing up behind the trees, geese grazing on the Common, cars starting in a steady stream, going where ever.
Heavy thoughts about AnnA.. how we would sit here in this room, so intent, so immersed in each other. My mouth going completely dry, always had to have a bottle of water by me when she was about, for her part, the perspiration making her hands wet, continually having to wipe them.
Now a mutual disenchantment, a gentle way of putting it, a woman who almost had me on my knees.. my feelings in those early, seemingly, far off days. Find myself praying for her... for what has been.
Saw the film about Mozart's life.. How away from the piano he was a joke.. No joke once he placed his fingers on the keyboard. The King's Music Master to go insane over his inability to understand why Mozart was so gifted and he,
was
not .
******************************
Silence.
Looked at her, feeling so very sad. Obvious she had become unbalanced in many respects, appeared unwell. Unfortunately I do feel that much of what has happened to place her so is to do with me, not be the first woman I have sent up the wall, possibly not the last. Told Cynthia this, she cut back about being quite mad already.
Both walked down the stairs in silence, as if she were someone picked up on the 'Cross', exactly the same stiff atmosphere between us. The only difference being she had not made any money and I not the slightest satisfaction. Asked curtly where she would like to be dropped, wanted me to take her home to Woodside Park... hardly doing that. Stopped at Manor House. Let the stupid, sullen bitch take the Tube. She climbed out slamming the door behind her, never looked back, never said "Good-bye", "Thank you", "Bollocks" or "kiss my Arse"! Still, had not put my hand in my pocket, just another hour wasted fucking about with her.
Drove away, same faint relief as if she were a brass.. maybe she finally has become just that, the simple solution to so many problems.. she does possess all the attributes, this idea occurred to me a long time previously.
Little more to say about Anna, again the complete ellipse, again the same sad ending, the same sad misunderstandings, the divergences, the creation of insurmountable obstacles .
*********************************
It is just Dawn, Sun climbing up behind the trees, geese grazing on the Common, cars starting in a steady stream, going where ever.
Heavy thoughts about AnnA.. how we would sit here in this room, so intent, so immersed in each other. My mouth going completely dry, always had to have a bottle of water by me when she was about, for her part, the perspiration making her hands wet, continually having to wipe them.
Now a mutual disenchantment, a gentle way of putting it, a woman who almost had me on my knees.. my feelings in those early, seemingly, far off days. Find myself praying for her... for what has been.
Saw the film about Mozart's life.. How away from the piano he was a joke.. No joke once he placed his fingers on the keyboard. The King's Music Master to go insane over his inability to understand why Mozart was so gifted and he,
was
not .
******************************
"Like the way you Fuck my brain".
Nine p.m. The "Swan" running true to Friday evening form. Heavy beat, fresh from the Jungle, heating up what is already simmering
Traffic becoming faster, speeding through the Common, between the high overhanging trees. Already shouts in the street immediately below, women arriving. Sitting here, do not have to look, can feel them drifting in, feel their faint vibrations. A sudden, sharp, stringent cry.. the night commences.
Three a.m. Sunday Morning. Silent now, silent as it will ever be on Clapton Common.. The few cars, just seen a very young couple of blacks dragging their weary feet past the deserted darkened Pub They looked up to my windows, bright, with dozens of coloured lights.. this has always been the brightest spot on the Common. Started leaving lights on for Jennifer in case she returned.. She never did… much too late now...would be a stranger... someone I used to know.
Rang Cynthia, staying high in the mountains, her sisters' place at Sibiu. Reasons best known to herself determined to be married. Hardly a real situation, my sitting here in Hackney. Much room for contemplation at this twist to my existence. Obviously, Cynthia does not see it as I do.. my having one foot almost in the grave. Then whom am I to query such a relatively young woman? her ideas. Quite categorically there is nothing she wants from me.. there is nothing to have.. Did an assessment of my belongings only a few days ago working out what I had to put into storage if I should manage to sell up. There is nothing worth more than two bob.. Just a collection from the past which I have persisted in hanging on to. The kitchen stool I bought for Twelve and sixpence down Kingsland waste. Bought it for Ross when I did the bedroom up for her, bought it so that she could rest her magnificent, beautiful black backside on it while she put her hair in large rollers, always before she climbed into bed with me.
Worked so hard on that piece of wood repairing it, rubbing it down, painting it a rather bright red. A labour of love! Built her a bed in that other room, spent weeks on it.. only a token, made quite sure she never used it.. only if we had an argument which was not often. Photographs, plenty of those, framed up, named, dated, hanging from the walls, all females, all mostly nude. No Carpets, no use with the place like Kew Gardens, water often running over the floors. This extremely hot weather have been feeding the plants almost every few days.. about twelve gallons of water mixed with a weak liquid manure.
All I have is the intrinsic, Cynthia knows this. She, like other females, attracted with ideas, writing, thoughts. This manuscript which she has translated into Romanian. Who else has ever done anything on such a scale for me? As she so succinctly put it .
"Like the way you Fuck my brain".
*********************************
My first experience of this very early in the piece, my first typist, a 'respectable' married woman with two young children. After a few months found her a long way from Hounslow where she lived in a smart semi.. found her hanging about my Mother's porch in Hackney! So far as she was concerned could have been in another World.
I was rather naive, not understanding that she had been having orgasms over her typewriter.. whatever turns you on.. Never crossed my mind to take her through the park and put her down in the long grass by the river, all she wanted.
Wondered why she would never speak to me again.
Anna, attracted to 'such a strange man' (her comment) desperately tried to understand the long love letters I wrote to her. They were so deep, so obscure, exactly my thoughts of her, or the concept she aroused. Difficult for me to make out my own precise meaning! She would become furious over the complexities of the English Language, demanding that I spell out my feelings to her in cold blood. Impossible.. I can only write, unable to speak.. take me from this machine and I am simply a Cab driver in every sense .. gruff, rough, rude, aggressive. Cab drivers are like this, conditioned to it, by the World which confronts them each painful day. I speak their language dropping my H's with the best of them. Invariably will say "Fank ya Mate" if people tip me reasonably well, otherwise say nothing at all. Can shout very loudly in the most 'Common' manner, "Wot!" being my favourite people off putting word.
Traffic becoming faster, speeding through the Common, between the high overhanging trees. Already shouts in the street immediately below, women arriving. Sitting here, do not have to look, can feel them drifting in, feel their faint vibrations. A sudden, sharp, stringent cry.. the night commences.
Three a.m. Sunday Morning. Silent now, silent as it will ever be on Clapton Common.. The few cars, just seen a very young couple of blacks dragging their weary feet past the deserted darkened Pub They looked up to my windows, bright, with dozens of coloured lights.. this has always been the brightest spot on the Common. Started leaving lights on for Jennifer in case she returned.. She never did… much too late now...would be a stranger... someone I used to know.
Rang Cynthia, staying high in the mountains, her sisters' place at Sibiu. Reasons best known to herself determined to be married. Hardly a real situation, my sitting here in Hackney. Much room for contemplation at this twist to my existence. Obviously, Cynthia does not see it as I do.. my having one foot almost in the grave. Then whom am I to query such a relatively young woman? her ideas. Quite categorically there is nothing she wants from me.. there is nothing to have.. Did an assessment of my belongings only a few days ago working out what I had to put into storage if I should manage to sell up. There is nothing worth more than two bob.. Just a collection from the past which I have persisted in hanging on to. The kitchen stool I bought for Twelve and sixpence down Kingsland waste. Bought it for Ross when I did the bedroom up for her, bought it so that she could rest her magnificent, beautiful black backside on it while she put her hair in large rollers, always before she climbed into bed with me.
Worked so hard on that piece of wood repairing it, rubbing it down, painting it a rather bright red. A labour of love! Built her a bed in that other room, spent weeks on it.. only a token, made quite sure she never used it.. only if we had an argument which was not often. Photographs, plenty of those, framed up, named, dated, hanging from the walls, all females, all mostly nude. No Carpets, no use with the place like Kew Gardens, water often running over the floors. This extremely hot weather have been feeding the plants almost every few days.. about twelve gallons of water mixed with a weak liquid manure.
All I have is the intrinsic, Cynthia knows this. She, like other females, attracted with ideas, writing, thoughts. This manuscript which she has translated into Romanian. Who else has ever done anything on such a scale for me? As she so succinctly put it .
"Like the way you Fuck my brain".
*********************************
My first experience of this very early in the piece, my first typist, a 'respectable' married woman with two young children. After a few months found her a long way from Hounslow where she lived in a smart semi.. found her hanging about my Mother's porch in Hackney! So far as she was concerned could have been in another World.
I was rather naive, not understanding that she had been having orgasms over her typewriter.. whatever turns you on.. Never crossed my mind to take her through the park and put her down in the long grass by the river, all she wanted.
Wondered why she would never speak to me again.
Anna, attracted to 'such a strange man' (her comment) desperately tried to understand the long love letters I wrote to her. They were so deep, so obscure, exactly my thoughts of her, or the concept she aroused. Difficult for me to make out my own precise meaning! She would become furious over the complexities of the English Language, demanding that I spell out my feelings to her in cold blood. Impossible.. I can only write, unable to speak.. take me from this machine and I am simply a Cab driver in every sense .. gruff, rough, rude, aggressive. Cab drivers are like this, conditioned to it, by the World which confronts them each painful day. I speak their language dropping my H's with the best of them. Invariably will say "Fank ya Mate" if people tip me reasonably well, otherwise say nothing at all. Can shout very loudly in the most 'Common' manner, "Wot!" being my favourite people off putting word.
Possible few men have tried so much as I to come to terms with women
Possible few men have tried so much as I to come to terms with women, every man I have known, without exception, given up, taken to drink, "succumbed ", (as Susan would put it with a faint satisfied smile about her lips) one way or the other.
Or, to laugh it off. "Er indoors". "The old woman" or, as Bernie always said quite loudly "My wife" although "indoors" he was the most pathetic, downtrodden creature it has ever been my misfortune to observe.
There is little hesitation on my part in saying that most of these men deserved the treatment meted out. Have personally always known the exact moment it is time to disappear. The transformation in Anna, from a very young unworldly woman.. to someone who would completely dominate a situation, going so far as to attempt physical violence to gain control. Fortunately I have not the slightest compunction in striking back, survival always been very strong in the Ridgley family.
Had five page, hand written letter from Cynthia today.. find it very difficult to read being powerless to do anything about her distraught feelings so openly spread across each page.
Looked at my accounts trying to see some way of squeezing a trip out of a whole column of minus signs. Rang to say I will go next week, have not the faintest notion where to conjure up the finance. Maybe the idea will stop her going completely up the wall, although she sounded quite good.
Then she always does.. a trooper.
It occurred to me that perhaps I am looking on Cynthia as the "Old Woman" although younger than my four eldest sons, incredibly, younger than Jennifer. Bucharest somewhere for me to go "home" too? Perhaps my sister brought this idea to me, remarking that most people "settle down" at twenty five ..somehow I am forty years late in reaching this.
Hard for me to shake off the Marine Bar ..for many years having looked upon it as the end of my particular road.. being impossible to go any further.. another thousand yards, the lights fade, the noise replaced by the soft sound of surf on the dark deserted beach, the road and my thinking, stopped dead, confronted by high, white cliffs, brightly reflecting a moon and stars of huge proportions.. unseen in the West
Remarkably Cynthia knows my thoughts, knows more or less which way the wind is blowing in my brain.. That maybe if I am so pissed off should go to Thailand .. Last trip there she sent me a Valentine card..! Imagine! Certain parties I know.. could only scream and seek "counselling" "Bangkok! what sort of diseases have you caught there!"
Such thinking, always left me more than annoyed, as if the Far East is a running, septic sore.. These bitches over here expecting their shit to be used as tooth paste, so full of themselves and their own expectations from other people, i.e. men. Their uncompromising, dominating attitude, enough for any man to get the first plane out. The current trend being Eastern Europe and Cuba..
Or, to laugh it off. "Er indoors". "The old woman" or, as Bernie always said quite loudly "My wife" although "indoors" he was the most pathetic, downtrodden creature it has ever been my misfortune to observe.
There is little hesitation on my part in saying that most of these men deserved the treatment meted out. Have personally always known the exact moment it is time to disappear. The transformation in Anna, from a very young unworldly woman.. to someone who would completely dominate a situation, going so far as to attempt physical violence to gain control. Fortunately I have not the slightest compunction in striking back, survival always been very strong in the Ridgley family.
Had five page, hand written letter from Cynthia today.. find it very difficult to read being powerless to do anything about her distraught feelings so openly spread across each page.
Looked at my accounts trying to see some way of squeezing a trip out of a whole column of minus signs. Rang to say I will go next week, have not the faintest notion where to conjure up the finance. Maybe the idea will stop her going completely up the wall, although she sounded quite good.
Then she always does.. a trooper.
It occurred to me that perhaps I am looking on Cynthia as the "Old Woman" although younger than my four eldest sons, incredibly, younger than Jennifer. Bucharest somewhere for me to go "home" too? Perhaps my sister brought this idea to me, remarking that most people "settle down" at twenty five ..somehow I am forty years late in reaching this.
Hard for me to shake off the Marine Bar ..for many years having looked upon it as the end of my particular road.. being impossible to go any further.. another thousand yards, the lights fade, the noise replaced by the soft sound of surf on the dark deserted beach, the road and my thinking, stopped dead, confronted by high, white cliffs, brightly reflecting a moon and stars of huge proportions.. unseen in the West
Remarkably Cynthia knows my thoughts, knows more or less which way the wind is blowing in my brain.. That maybe if I am so pissed off should go to Thailand .. Last trip there she sent me a Valentine card..! Imagine! Certain parties I know.. could only scream and seek "counselling" "Bangkok! what sort of diseases have you caught there!"
Such thinking, always left me more than annoyed, as if the Far East is a running, septic sore.. These bitches over here expecting their shit to be used as tooth paste, so full of themselves and their own expectations from other people, i.e. men. Their uncompromising, dominating attitude, enough for any man to get the first plane out. The current trend being Eastern Europe and Cuba..
Tuesday. 18th July. 1995. 8.a.m.
A Bright Sunny Morning...Rather like the start of another long Journey.. perhaps wondering if I have turned the Gas off, finally closing the street door putting the heavy padlock on, very quietly going down the Georgian stairs. Always thinking why so particular about not making a noise. No one else in the house now, other than the two young women on the ground floor... see them about once a month... if that. Not seen them since my eruption with Anna... Come to think of it, have not seen her either. Good reason for this. Had the temerity to make her a brief visit... taking her a small bunch of flowers and a few relevant pages of this manuscript. A note, admitting it to be the first time I had ever "gone to her"... something she had always wanted... Now, so much later, it hardly mattered.
We sat in the same scruffy room, the same finished cigarette ends, the same remains of another meal left on the table.. a bottle of orange juice, couple of smeared glasses. Sat almost in darkness, only the reflection of the street lamps gently lighting her face. We talked very quietly... so unlike our other encounters, so very long ago. Whatever had been between us had flown away, this we both knew. She, changed almost beyond belief, matured now, her thrill with life replaced with the reality. My prophecy about her coming completely true.
Gently pointed this out to her. if she had of come, stayed at the flat with me on that first encounter, the time I had opened the window saying " Why do you want to run about out there?... you will be safe here, in this flat". No, she had wanted to spread her wings after the constricting of Poland, of Andrychow.
She wanted to be free, to "Love the World"
Knew now, quite different... Knew that all the World wanted from her was to screw her in whatever guise, whatever deceit. She retained her virginity, retreated into Sylvia, by now, as one, inseparable. Retreated into each other, determined to face the situation out until next month when they will return home, in all probability "Sadder and Wiser" The sheer exuberance of their youth, gone.
A very quiet calculating Anna! My Anna! unbelievable! On a level with any Thai young Lady...
She went into her acting piece... wringing her hands gently together.
"Peter you must ! Must give me two hundred pounds!"
Soft tears ,
"I do not want to work any more in the restaurants with all the men trying to touch me."
Remembered Nit, Pa, their reasons why I should give them two hundred pounds. Their Mother was ill, their father was dying, the Baby needed Polio injections... Dear Anna, never thought, had told her of Thailand... yet, unable to understand my reaction at such a request. Perhaps implying I should do it ………
"If I loved her".
Stopped playing that particular, devisive game several decades ago.
Tried not to smile, pleased that there were only flickering shadows, shouts from drunks in the street as the Pubs closed
"What about the other money you owe me?" Could not resist that dig.
"Oh! you offered it to me!" She lied beautifully..
Only lack of nerve prevented her from becoming a first class Hustler, had the looks, the figure, the ability to act out a given situation. Rather like someone I used to know, almost the image, in fact...
Preferred to hang on to Sylvia, to scrub floors... to still, even now, wait for a mythical Prince Charming to come along!
Decided to leave, abruptly. She not having that, suddenly standing up, pushing me back into my chair, saw her look at the clock..
"What are you waiting for?
"Oh Sylvia will be here at midnight"... Wanting me to stay and keep her company until her lover returned... Peter still being used.
Stood up, pushing her away ...me, pushing Anna away!.. .untrue... suddenly put her arms about my neck, at that exact moment Sylvia came in.
I was dropped like a wet, cold, fish.
Walked out into the night….. smiling to myself..
We sat in the same scruffy room, the same finished cigarette ends, the same remains of another meal left on the table.. a bottle of orange juice, couple of smeared glasses. Sat almost in darkness, only the reflection of the street lamps gently lighting her face. We talked very quietly... so unlike our other encounters, so very long ago. Whatever had been between us had flown away, this we both knew. She, changed almost beyond belief, matured now, her thrill with life replaced with the reality. My prophecy about her coming completely true.
Gently pointed this out to her. if she had of come, stayed at the flat with me on that first encounter, the time I had opened the window saying " Why do you want to run about out there?... you will be safe here, in this flat". No, she had wanted to spread her wings after the constricting of Poland, of Andrychow.
She wanted to be free, to "Love the World"
Knew now, quite different... Knew that all the World wanted from her was to screw her in whatever guise, whatever deceit. She retained her virginity, retreated into Sylvia, by now, as one, inseparable. Retreated into each other, determined to face the situation out until next month when they will return home, in all probability "Sadder and Wiser" The sheer exuberance of their youth, gone.
A very quiet calculating Anna! My Anna! unbelievable! On a level with any Thai young Lady...
She went into her acting piece... wringing her hands gently together.
"Peter you must ! Must give me two hundred pounds!"
Soft tears ,
"I do not want to work any more in the restaurants with all the men trying to touch me."
Remembered Nit, Pa, their reasons why I should give them two hundred pounds. Their Mother was ill, their father was dying, the Baby needed Polio injections... Dear Anna, never thought, had told her of Thailand... yet, unable to understand my reaction at such a request. Perhaps implying I should do it ………
"If I loved her".
Stopped playing that particular, devisive game several decades ago.
Tried not to smile, pleased that there were only flickering shadows, shouts from drunks in the street as the Pubs closed
"What about the other money you owe me?" Could not resist that dig.
"Oh! you offered it to me!" She lied beautifully..
Only lack of nerve prevented her from becoming a first class Hustler, had the looks, the figure, the ability to act out a given situation. Rather like someone I used to know, almost the image, in fact...
Preferred to hang on to Sylvia, to scrub floors... to still, even now, wait for a mythical Prince Charming to come along!
Decided to leave, abruptly. She not having that, suddenly standing up, pushing me back into my chair, saw her look at the clock..
"What are you waiting for?
"Oh Sylvia will be here at midnight"... Wanting me to stay and keep her company until her lover returned... Peter still being used.
Stood up, pushing her away ...me, pushing Anna away!.. .untrue... suddenly put her arms about my neck, at that exact moment Sylvia came in.
I was dropped like a wet, cold, fish.
Walked out into the night….. smiling to myself..
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