Very cold here in Bucuresti, after the spring day we had yesterday. Mr Bush decided, after the weeks, indeed months of rhetoric regarding what he was and what he was not going to do to Iraq, has simply let the matter go on to the "back burner" The fact of the senate mid term elections are now due, could, conceivably, have something to do with him shutting his stupid mouth. The World now sits back, waits, waits for whatever is to come next. .. whatever "America" decides next.
Saddam Hussein... relaxes with his eight female bodyguards, Peter sits, contemplating Mr Putin's move of lowering the Marriage age to fourteen, wondering whether he should get the bus to Murmansk... Stalingrad... one of those exotic places…….. the third day of November… take Cynthia.. she could organize a party, it having died the death here.
All my entourage have inevitably gone the way all females I have ever known have gone once they were set on their feet. I found Dana a wealthy Englishman... once that was arranged not seen her since. Lisa is off to the States… a 73 year old, with three houses, three Cadillac's and a house on Malibu beach ……. Cyntia found him for Lisa. She leaves tomorrow...
I am not taking money as whether or not we shall get so much as a post card from her.
Laura, she my own particular pearl, never having seen the sea until we took her to Costinesti on the Black sea.
Her father had this penchant for locking both her and her and her sister up in a mental home during the long school vacation (a) because he did not have to keep them and (b) because he was paid about 1.000.000lei (you want to believe it) … all that we straightened out .. She found her feet after about a year here……..
Regardless of my giving her taxi fare home, soon realized she only had to show out and she does have plenty to show, the first car squealing to a standstill on the greasy cobblestones... watched her jump in with alacrity, drive away to where ever she was taken. Not bad for a girl just out of school………
Se afișează postările cu eticheta Cynthia. Afișați toate postările
Se afișează postările cu eticheta Cynthia. Afișați toate postările
The Costinesti Encounter.
Tuesday, August 14, 2001..
Another diversion , so quickly am I overtaken by events
On the sixth Of this month, I was, we were, Cynthia, Laura and I at Costinesti on the Black Sea, a place quite comparable to Pattaya…
7.30 a.m. Glorious , hot.
In the chalet next to mine, a older man sitting on the step with a can of beer , looking rather the worse for life. A early starter, I thought . Hardly took any notice . Cynthia came out , immediately greeting this gentleman,
“Oh ! Hello Bernt !! “
“ You know him??” I said, curious.
“Yes , of course”
“ Is it the Belgian man ?”
‘No, it’s the German Man’
“What German man ??”
‘You know.. the one who ran off with Aura! “
Looked at him , looked at Cynthia. Aura..!! German !! did not recognize him.. seen him once or twice before, but he had aged considerably. Looked at him ………
asked the $50 question… ??
‘Where’s Aura ??”
“I left her…” He said deceptively.
Smiled at this, thinking, that’s alright, satisfied..…
Wondered what he was doing here in Costinesti ??
‘Leaving now ..do not like the heavy music “ he did have a point… music??! Decibels… ! twenty four hours every day.
Said to him ‘It’s cheap…”
“Money is of no consideration to me’
Well, I thought . lucky you. Aura gone.. God knows where .. He here… Peter not really thinking too clever..
Laura sitting idly watching all this, taking it all in.. swinging her body to the music plugged into her ears, looking so delicious in her topless nothing, long hair to the waist, skin the colour of bronze.
He looked at her ..looked at her again.. looked at me and disappeared inside his little wooden hut, popping out again with a small child and his junk ..all packed.
Asked whom the child may be ? he quite glib, saying it belonged to the woman he was with, naturally I assumed he had picked up someone with a child.. odd.. but my mind still engrossed on Aura.
He looked at Laura again and announced he was leaving immediately, now.
Laura played it up to the hilt pouting at him… crossing her legs provocatively.
A child came out fully dressed and this woman stepped out after it.. She slightly overweight… dressed.. no one dresses in Costinesti, It is a situation of undress.
She had a green two piece suit on, black, low heel shoes, hair, immaculate, as if she had just stepped from the saloon, only the briefest glimpse of her as she quickly turned her back and strode off ……..”up the garden path”, so to speak.. and they were gone …
Thought to myself “That’s a funny turn out”
Anyway, ten minutes later he comes back, breathless, quite apparently agitated, some pretext, it being he was looking for his watch , told him it was on his wrist.
Could see he was very confused, see he wanted something, other than the watch….
He rushed into the room banged about for a few seconds and came out, obviously having made some decision.
Actually I am married to Aura !!.. been married to her for two months !!:
I, Quite shaken.. very shaken.
‘Was that her who walked out ??”
He said “Yes”
Immediately blew my top
“Why the fuck didn’t she say Hello!! After all I did for her?? She is entitled to say hello.. not simply ignore me”
“Well.. she does not want to speak to you “
“Typical of all of them , none want to say thank you, everything that woman is , irrespective , is what I made her, she was a nonentity, now quite obviously, she is a something, a something to be reckoned with.
He thought it was going to develop into trouble, but I calmed down..
He, seeing the change, became fatuous.. Uriah Heep.. said quietly:
“ Could I ask you a question??”
“Can if you want”
“Did you have sex with Aura ???”
Looked at him straight in the face.. I don’t believe this.. what has Aura told the silly bastard
“Did I have sex with Aura !!!? ”
When did we ever stop having sex!!…What a question…
“To be perfectly fair, now that you are married to her I really cannot answer “
He persisted “Do you have any erotic photographs of her ???”
“Only the one you stole from my apartment…”
Forgot to mention she was the most photographed, most filmed, most fucked, most erotic, most sensuous woman I had ever met .
He was not happy .
Asked where she may be? said she was sitting in a taxi up the road ..Suggested he had better go. He hardly wanted that , he wanted more, more about the woman.. the woman he had so blithely married, a whole barrage of questions which I demurred at..
Eventually he came up with…
"How is it I find $100 bills and 50 mark notes in her pockets ?"
Parried that one saying "Perhaps I gave them to her..”
“No this was after you”
What a stupid bastard..
Aura is obviously still “At It” and she is extremely clever at the ‘game…’ I never knew what was going on until I was told.. The last to know.. Even when the woman in Enescu screamed at her for being a ‘Prostitute” a countered angrily by saying she had made a “mistake!!” never for a moment thinking otherwise.. Men are both blind and stupid when it comes to the other sex, when it comes to the very edge of the precipice.
Clever woman, Aura, loves her occupation, as so many do....
When his back is turned .. same as when mine was.. in England, grinding away on the streets, she in Bucuresti, grinding away on a bed or anywhere, actually.
Thought ..”Well fuck you, you stew in it” ….she has sucked him in and blown him out in bubbles.
Ignoring my initial outburst, had become quite calm. I taken so back , that this unglamorous woman I had just seen was Aura, evidently been partaking of the German cheese cake without consideration to her figure…
Dressed!! She hardly wore enough to cover her fanny when she was with me, Costinesti is a place where everything is let go… people are semi naked
He could see I was elsewhere with my thoughts . His final shot
“ What do you think I should do about her!!?
“ What do you mean? what do I think you should do..??? you married her.. who’s the child ??
“ Oh.. that’s Aura’s nephew”
Fucking Aura..!! she has married the man.. goes to Germany with him.. drags him back to Costinesti.. drags some kid round with her , no doubt to alleviate the boredom….. Auld lang syne!!!
Perhaps she wanted to rekindle a spark of the past, there certainly is not now the slightest spark in the man she married.. married him for what he could give her……..I smiled.. still did not say anything ..let the silly bastard stew in her juice, Done him up like a kipper… indeed she has.. She so clever as any Thai Lady. My best pupil……
Why I did not recognize him being, all the aggravation, the struggle he had with her, has simply aged him. Looked reasonable when I last glimpsed him in the photograph she showed me of them together, they looked the business.. but that was a year ago and time is relentless, remorseless. Infinitely without mercy.
Here was a man, married for thirty years, with three children Aura’s age, now divorced, up to the neck with alimony and Aura shackled to him.
I can only ask , as ever, why are men so stupid ?
Realizing I was not going to give him anything of the past .. he fucked off with a final look at Laura who had intently paid attention to this odd encounter
Quite honestly, once I took a deep breath and thought about it, I was really knocked, really knocked.
How can this be!!
Aura to me, in my eyes, was such a wonderful person, so erotic, so sensuous all the time. One man was useless to her, she was always suggesting her desire for more than one man, as with SOS who knocked off 23 men in one evenings’ entertainment, hardly think Aura has beaten this.. yet…without doubt she could, will …insatiable..
As he walked away, perhaps thinking out loud… said
“I’m going to watch her”
No doubt with reference to the mysterious money in her pockets…
What an attitude to take between what is a fact.. man and wife…
Here is a man married two months to this young woman, she blatantly back to her favorite occupation ..doing what she is best at and getting rewarded for it.. Fair enough…, I am unable to sympathize, I never saw her game, why should he have ?? Unable to sympathize with the man, any man.
Men are stupid when it comes to a woman. I know not one who has come out in front regarding a female.
Mesmerized.. indeed I was… But I, always aware, as written previously, that it would end .. the ending, how it ended, a very big surprise to Peter.. really underestimated what a brilliant strategist she was.
No, Aura disregarded what the man she married was, closed her eyes , wanted his being.. his access to the West, his identity , at any cost… even being a alcoholic, even that !
There were other things against him. His marriage , his children. He did have a good job with Lufthansa which helped. He was a German citizen, which is what she always wanted.. to go to Germany. To escape from Romania, as so many females.. All anxiously willing to stand up, or lie down, anywhere and obviously, with anyone… for a exit visa.
If she had waited one more year she could have gone anywhere in Europe without him……
So she achieved.. at a price.. So many of her uncertainties swept away by this strong move. Free of the University, free of the thought of semi starvation, free of Peter.. The two secure years she spent with me, the education I gave her. Her serious grasp gained of the English language.. all very sharp arrows to her armoury, Peter fully putting her on her feet, all this, no doubt, carefully calculated. All at a price.
As have said so many times, there is always a price and she paid heavily .
Now, sitting here , with my drink this calm Sunday morning, Cynthia at church .. I can only cross myself ….
Ace , King , Queen, Jack.. in numele, Tatalui si Fiului, si Sfantului Duh, Amin….. I, deeply sorry for her. The fact she had not chosen to confide in me, the insidious deception, the treachery, a bitter disappointment.
I have lost a great deal of the remaining hope, hope carried continuously throughout my existence, over this short, sharp, encounter.
The feeling I have about her now is that she is dead…
Dead inside me.
Smile to my face once it sank in she has come back here to Costinesti, a place where all her inhibitions and hang ups, she did have plenty…were thrown to the wind, with her clothes.
Our first time on the so secluded, languid, beach, I had to rip her bikini off .. after that she never wore anything, regardless of the of the odd man who casually walked so close to us .
Suppose she remembered all this, what other reason did she come back to the Black Sea for??
So far from Frankfurt.
What choked me is that she went back to Costinesti …Peter.. must have realized the odds were short, a good chance of meeting.. knows I am always there.. Now at the chance of the face to face ..she refuses..
To think it was only a few weeks ago I wrote about the remote odds of seeing her again.. and it has come up, like winning the lottery…and in the next Chalet !! there must be a couple of hundred, yet she was next to me… Fate played a wry card..
No answer to this life.
No answer to fate
No answer to the twists and turns between love and hate.
No answer to the slings and arrows of
outrageous fortune.
No answer to Aura, or any other woman on this Planet.
Sunday, August 19, 2001……… 4:06 PM
*****************************************
Another diversion , so quickly am I overtaken by events
On the sixth Of this month, I was, we were, Cynthia, Laura and I at Costinesti on the Black Sea, a place quite comparable to Pattaya…
7.30 a.m. Glorious , hot.
In the chalet next to mine, a older man sitting on the step with a can of beer , looking rather the worse for life. A early starter, I thought . Hardly took any notice . Cynthia came out , immediately greeting this gentleman,
“Oh ! Hello Bernt !! “
“ You know him??” I said, curious.
“Yes , of course”
“ Is it the Belgian man ?”
‘No, it’s the German Man’
“What German man ??”
‘You know.. the one who ran off with Aura! “
Looked at him , looked at Cynthia. Aura..!! German !! did not recognize him.. seen him once or twice before, but he had aged considerably. Looked at him ………
asked the $50 question… ??
‘Where’s Aura ??”
“I left her…” He said deceptively.
Smiled at this, thinking, that’s alright, satisfied..…
Wondered what he was doing here in Costinesti ??
‘Leaving now ..do not like the heavy music “ he did have a point… music??! Decibels… ! twenty four hours every day.
Said to him ‘It’s cheap…”
“Money is of no consideration to me’
Well, I thought . lucky you. Aura gone.. God knows where .. He here… Peter not really thinking too clever..
Laura sitting idly watching all this, taking it all in.. swinging her body to the music plugged into her ears, looking so delicious in her topless nothing, long hair to the waist, skin the colour of bronze.
He looked at her ..looked at her again.. looked at me and disappeared inside his little wooden hut, popping out again with a small child and his junk ..all packed.
Asked whom the child may be ? he quite glib, saying it belonged to the woman he was with, naturally I assumed he had picked up someone with a child.. odd.. but my mind still engrossed on Aura.
He looked at Laura again and announced he was leaving immediately, now.
Laura played it up to the hilt pouting at him… crossing her legs provocatively.
A child came out fully dressed and this woman stepped out after it.. She slightly overweight… dressed.. no one dresses in Costinesti, It is a situation of undress.
She had a green two piece suit on, black, low heel shoes, hair, immaculate, as if she had just stepped from the saloon, only the briefest glimpse of her as she quickly turned her back and strode off ……..”up the garden path”, so to speak.. and they were gone …
Thought to myself “That’s a funny turn out”
Anyway, ten minutes later he comes back, breathless, quite apparently agitated, some pretext, it being he was looking for his watch , told him it was on his wrist.
Could see he was very confused, see he wanted something, other than the watch….
He rushed into the room banged about for a few seconds and came out, obviously having made some decision.
Actually I am married to Aura !!.. been married to her for two months !!:
I, Quite shaken.. very shaken.
‘Was that her who walked out ??”
He said “Yes”
Immediately blew my top
“Why the fuck didn’t she say Hello!! After all I did for her?? She is entitled to say hello.. not simply ignore me”
“Well.. she does not want to speak to you “
“Typical of all of them , none want to say thank you, everything that woman is , irrespective , is what I made her, she was a nonentity, now quite obviously, she is a something, a something to be reckoned with.
He thought it was going to develop into trouble, but I calmed down..
He, seeing the change, became fatuous.. Uriah Heep.. said quietly:
“ Could I ask you a question??”
“Can if you want”
“Did you have sex with Aura ???”
Looked at him straight in the face.. I don’t believe this.. what has Aura told the silly bastard
“Did I have sex with Aura !!!? ”
When did we ever stop having sex!!…What a question…
“To be perfectly fair, now that you are married to her I really cannot answer “
He persisted “Do you have any erotic photographs of her ???”
“Only the one you stole from my apartment…”
Forgot to mention she was the most photographed, most filmed, most fucked, most erotic, most sensuous woman I had ever met .
He was not happy .
Asked where she may be? said she was sitting in a taxi up the road ..Suggested he had better go. He hardly wanted that , he wanted more, more about the woman.. the woman he had so blithely married, a whole barrage of questions which I demurred at..
Eventually he came up with…
"How is it I find $100 bills and 50 mark notes in her pockets ?"
Parried that one saying "Perhaps I gave them to her..”
“No this was after you”
What a stupid bastard..
Aura is obviously still “At It” and she is extremely clever at the ‘game…’ I never knew what was going on until I was told.. The last to know.. Even when the woman in Enescu screamed at her for being a ‘Prostitute” a countered angrily by saying she had made a “mistake!!” never for a moment thinking otherwise.. Men are both blind and stupid when it comes to the other sex, when it comes to the very edge of the precipice.
Clever woman, Aura, loves her occupation, as so many do....
When his back is turned .. same as when mine was.. in England, grinding away on the streets, she in Bucuresti, grinding away on a bed or anywhere, actually.
Thought ..”Well fuck you, you stew in it” ….she has sucked him in and blown him out in bubbles.
Ignoring my initial outburst, had become quite calm. I taken so back , that this unglamorous woman I had just seen was Aura, evidently been partaking of the German cheese cake without consideration to her figure…
Dressed!! She hardly wore enough to cover her fanny when she was with me, Costinesti is a place where everything is let go… people are semi naked
He could see I was elsewhere with my thoughts . His final shot
“ What do you think I should do about her!!?
“ What do you mean? what do I think you should do..??? you married her.. who’s the child ??
“ Oh.. that’s Aura’s nephew”
Fucking Aura..!! she has married the man.. goes to Germany with him.. drags him back to Costinesti.. drags some kid round with her , no doubt to alleviate the boredom….. Auld lang syne!!!
Perhaps she wanted to rekindle a spark of the past, there certainly is not now the slightest spark in the man she married.. married him for what he could give her……..I smiled.. still did not say anything ..let the silly bastard stew in her juice, Done him up like a kipper… indeed she has.. She so clever as any Thai Lady. My best pupil……
Why I did not recognize him being, all the aggravation, the struggle he had with her, has simply aged him. Looked reasonable when I last glimpsed him in the photograph she showed me of them together, they looked the business.. but that was a year ago and time is relentless, remorseless. Infinitely without mercy.
Here was a man, married for thirty years, with three children Aura’s age, now divorced, up to the neck with alimony and Aura shackled to him.
I can only ask , as ever, why are men so stupid ?
Realizing I was not going to give him anything of the past .. he fucked off with a final look at Laura who had intently paid attention to this odd encounter
Quite honestly, once I took a deep breath and thought about it, I was really knocked, really knocked.
How can this be!!
Aura to me, in my eyes, was such a wonderful person, so erotic, so sensuous all the time. One man was useless to her, she was always suggesting her desire for more than one man, as with SOS who knocked off 23 men in one evenings’ entertainment, hardly think Aura has beaten this.. yet…without doubt she could, will …insatiable..
As he walked away, perhaps thinking out loud… said
“I’m going to watch her”
No doubt with reference to the mysterious money in her pockets…
What an attitude to take between what is a fact.. man and wife…
Here is a man married two months to this young woman, she blatantly back to her favorite occupation ..doing what she is best at and getting rewarded for it.. Fair enough…, I am unable to sympathize, I never saw her game, why should he have ?? Unable to sympathize with the man, any man.
Men are stupid when it comes to a woman. I know not one who has come out in front regarding a female.
Mesmerized.. indeed I was… But I, always aware, as written previously, that it would end .. the ending, how it ended, a very big surprise to Peter.. really underestimated what a brilliant strategist she was.
No, Aura disregarded what the man she married was, closed her eyes , wanted his being.. his access to the West, his identity , at any cost… even being a alcoholic, even that !
There were other things against him. His marriage , his children. He did have a good job with Lufthansa which helped. He was a German citizen, which is what she always wanted.. to go to Germany. To escape from Romania, as so many females.. All anxiously willing to stand up, or lie down, anywhere and obviously, with anyone… for a exit visa.
If she had waited one more year she could have gone anywhere in Europe without him……
So she achieved.. at a price.. So many of her uncertainties swept away by this strong move. Free of the University, free of the thought of semi starvation, free of Peter.. The two secure years she spent with me, the education I gave her. Her serious grasp gained of the English language.. all very sharp arrows to her armoury, Peter fully putting her on her feet, all this, no doubt, carefully calculated. All at a price.
As have said so many times, there is always a price and she paid heavily .
Now, sitting here , with my drink this calm Sunday morning, Cynthia at church .. I can only cross myself ….
Ace , King , Queen, Jack.. in numele, Tatalui si Fiului, si Sfantului Duh, Amin….. I, deeply sorry for her. The fact she had not chosen to confide in me, the insidious deception, the treachery, a bitter disappointment.
I have lost a great deal of the remaining hope, hope carried continuously throughout my existence, over this short, sharp, encounter.
The feeling I have about her now is that she is dead…
Dead inside me.
Smile to my face once it sank in she has come back here to Costinesti, a place where all her inhibitions and hang ups, she did have plenty…were thrown to the wind, with her clothes.
Our first time on the so secluded, languid, beach, I had to rip her bikini off .. after that she never wore anything, regardless of the of the odd man who casually walked so close to us .
Suppose she remembered all this, what other reason did she come back to the Black Sea for??
So far from Frankfurt.
What choked me is that she went back to Costinesti …Peter.. must have realized the odds were short, a good chance of meeting.. knows I am always there.. Now at the chance of the face to face ..she refuses..
To think it was only a few weeks ago I wrote about the remote odds of seeing her again.. and it has come up, like winning the lottery…and in the next Chalet !! there must be a couple of hundred, yet she was next to me… Fate played a wry card..
No answer to this life.
No answer to fate
No answer to the twists and turns between love and hate.
No answer to the slings and arrows of
outrageous fortune.
No answer to Aura, or any other woman on this Planet.
Sunday, August 19, 2001……… 4:06 PM
*****************************************
"Justice is the will of the stronger"
As the man said "I digress.." hardly know what I digress from, not much happening.. simply plod on.. on my "Weary way".. Go back, pick up the main thread of this story.. think I was still putting the final developments of Susan down. What happened after Susan ? does it really matter what happened after Susan ..?? hardly to any one other than myself and that interest is very thin. Only write for my own satisfaction, hardly for anyone else's. Not in that boat, thank God. Either like it or lump it . or "Please yourself…" as the delicious young ladies of Pattaya say, so softly, so gently, after stating their price of the main event.. "Love for money".." Few Farangs in Thailand who do not know that sharp phrase, its’ implication
Said to Cynthia the other night " You know, would make a good film. .this book… Check the Net for some film agents. .producers, have a look round.. never know your luck…” Okay “..she drifted off to the box, came back a couple of hours later .. "Guess what ??" "what??"
"There are 60,000,000 pages of film makers and associated items" .
Could not really comprehend this.. Repeated her statement to myself..60.000.000 pages ..how many items on each page???! What chance does anyone have ??? So much flotsam floating about in space.
My father brought home a crystal set.. we all had to be incredibly quiet and take it in turns to listen to the few discernible crackling words emitted… I,… five years old.
Obviously I am well past my "sell by" date
The idea of a book is out, for the one simple reason that people no longer have the ability to read.. not more than five words.. Any advertising agency will confirm this.. . There is too much happening up front.. before the eyes .the “Unreal Reality “… the “Square box”….mostly played down to the level of six year olds. Very little effort required … no thought whatsoever…. Why read??
Every Government on this Planet is strongly aware of the fact that “if” people are educated and can read.. can think …. they may possibly get all manner of unwelcome ideas.
The words. Democracy , individuality, justice, "Education.." Tricks of the trade, simply words.. in so far as any government is concerned..
They prefer/insist/demand "Political correctness " insidiously injected via the media.. " CNN" .." Euro News " ..twenty four hours every day.
The bottom line of the most powerful Governments being
"Justice is the will of the stronger'
Most especially, this applies to the United States of America
Only have to look at America and "NATO" Bombing defenseless Yugoslavia, for no other reason than a diversion, from amongst other things, a get out for Clinton over the Lewinsky affair.
The Imposed "Sanctions" by the American Corporation on Iraq .. Never mind the "Kurds " and "weapons of destruction…" What about the price of oil !?? Iraq sitting on more than anyone else on this Planet.
Politics is a dirty business.
……….Like to make gifts of copies ..can be used double edged ….take a poke, or, as with Aura .. Book Four.. Wound her and the German up very tight, very tight indeed .
Aura…Book ten will be better………..
Revenge is sweet …. A certain satisfaction…
Said to Cynthia the other night " You know, would make a good film. .this book… Check the Net for some film agents. .producers, have a look round.. never know your luck…” Okay “..she drifted off to the box, came back a couple of hours later .. "Guess what ??" "what??"
"There are 60,000,000 pages of film makers and associated items" .
Could not really comprehend this.. Repeated her statement to myself..60.000.000 pages ..how many items on each page???! What chance does anyone have ??? So much flotsam floating about in space.
My father brought home a crystal set.. we all had to be incredibly quiet and take it in turns to listen to the few discernible crackling words emitted… I,… five years old.
Obviously I am well past my "sell by" date
The idea of a book is out, for the one simple reason that people no longer have the ability to read.. not more than five words.. Any advertising agency will confirm this.. . There is too much happening up front.. before the eyes .the “Unreal Reality “… the “Square box”….mostly played down to the level of six year olds. Very little effort required … no thought whatsoever…. Why read??
Every Government on this Planet is strongly aware of the fact that “if” people are educated and can read.. can think …. they may possibly get all manner of unwelcome ideas.
The words. Democracy , individuality, justice, "Education.." Tricks of the trade, simply words.. in so far as any government is concerned..
They prefer/insist/demand "Political correctness " insidiously injected via the media.. " CNN" .." Euro News " ..twenty four hours every day.
The bottom line of the most powerful Governments being
"Justice is the will of the stronger'
Most especially, this applies to the United States of America
Only have to look at America and "NATO" Bombing defenseless Yugoslavia, for no other reason than a diversion, from amongst other things, a get out for Clinton over the Lewinsky affair.
The Imposed "Sanctions" by the American Corporation on Iraq .. Never mind the "Kurds " and "weapons of destruction…" What about the price of oil !?? Iraq sitting on more than anyone else on this Planet.
Politics is a dirty business.
……….Like to make gifts of copies ..can be used double edged ….take a poke, or, as with Aura .. Book Four.. Wound her and the German up very tight, very tight indeed .
Aura…Book ten will be better………..
Revenge is sweet …. A certain satisfaction…
Dark Thoughts
But I am really buzzing over the treacherous bitch.. hardly see myself recovering for a very long time.. Conceivably, I never shall.
This dark thought has occurred to me, the slow realization of how close I had become to her, how deeply entwined, how much of my life, myself, she had abducted, absorbed. My loss of her in the night, in the darkness, in the silence, holding her so very tightly, only now this amputation becoming painfully apparent. A void appearing at my feet, a heavy palpitation in my chest.
The initial shock, taken me to my bed.. invariably my answer, Cynthia hovering about me , I having to finally admit that she is the heroin of the twentieth century and this protracted diatribe, a difficult admission after struggling for so long against reason, hardly reason when it comes to two people entwined.
After the Australian fiasco went to bed for two years, rather to the dismay of my mother who suddenly found herself confronted by a situation she did not want and a man she had not seen in a very long time and perhaps, had tried to forget.
Silent after my outburst.. my temper, after getting the knife out and throwing it on the floor in front of Aura, she, too far gone to completely appreciate this point .
Suddenly gathered herself together, looking about as if surprised to find herself once more in the so familiar apartment, the so familiar surroundings, the so familiar room.. as if waking, a long dream, saying..
"Have to go now, have a cab waiting downstairs." ….
Surprised at her affluence, then , quite obviously, she is full of surprises , some not quite so pleasant as others.
Wound my way down the spiral staircase with her .. gave her some money. .never watched as she walked away from the house, into the night.
Cynthia had never said one word, not one muscle of her body had moved, not so much as the flicker of a eyelid.
Without doubt, she thought a great deal.
This dark thought has occurred to me, the slow realization of how close I had become to her, how deeply entwined, how much of my life, myself, she had abducted, absorbed. My loss of her in the night, in the darkness, in the silence, holding her so very tightly, only now this amputation becoming painfully apparent. A void appearing at my feet, a heavy palpitation in my chest.
The initial shock, taken me to my bed.. invariably my answer, Cynthia hovering about me , I having to finally admit that she is the heroin of the twentieth century and this protracted diatribe, a difficult admission after struggling for so long against reason, hardly reason when it comes to two people entwined.
After the Australian fiasco went to bed for two years, rather to the dismay of my mother who suddenly found herself confronted by a situation she did not want and a man she had not seen in a very long time and perhaps, had tried to forget.
Silent after my outburst.. my temper, after getting the knife out and throwing it on the floor in front of Aura, she, too far gone to completely appreciate this point .
Suddenly gathered herself together, looking about as if surprised to find herself once more in the so familiar apartment, the so familiar surroundings, the so familiar room.. as if waking, a long dream, saying..
"Have to go now, have a cab waiting downstairs." ….
Surprised at her affluence, then , quite obviously, she is full of surprises , some not quite so pleasant as others.
Wound my way down the spiral staircase with her .. gave her some money. .never watched as she walked away from the house, into the night.
Cynthia had never said one word, not one muscle of her body had moved, not so much as the flicker of a eyelid.
Without doubt, she thought a great deal.
Monday 15th January. 10.a.m.
Sit here in Beller.. silent.. A vague percussion from a street drill somewhere. Very cold.. Vague thoughts of Aura.
Drifted last night down the other end of town, her end ..her deserted street.. her house.. A silent Sunday evening.. the soft swish of trolley busses .. silent people disappearing into the silent labyrinths of existence.
Stood solitary opposite her entrance as had done in other places at other times, other female faces.. Nothing ever changes…
Finally rang the intercom.. the other girl answered , the young, small, quiet one, the one deeply interested in her clitoris…frequently examining it with a mirror. A charming young woman. Last saw her , my last evening with Aura ..she had been stitched up by her "employer" refused to give her wages on some pretext, leaving the girl on the verge of starvation. She in bed that evening.. Gave Aura $40 to give her, which brought a faint smile to her existence..
Whatever, Cyn and I ..Lord and Lady Dunnabunk, sitting here in the warm sanity.. gently laid back, gently sipping our drinks.. impervious of the World outside, beneath, around us…
Looked at Aura through the glass, knew she was agitated.. invariably is whenever she arrived at Beller, always left smiling.
This time round, rather imagined it would be different..
Asked her through the glass to calm down .
Let her in .. she almost unrecognizable, noticeably aged.. the attractive, handsome, young woman I had created, now like a taxi which had been left lying about in a yard, neglected.
With confidence, could say I was not responsible for this aging apparition, sitting crouched on the sofa.. the one we had spent so many hot,, erotic nights together on. Did it to herself, aided and abetted by some other man, who hardly had the interest in her I had so consistently shown…for what… ultimately? A sharp, cowardly, stab in the back. But this is life, I, of all people on this Planet, not in any position to remonstrate. Deep down , all along, aware of the inevitable coming, in what form, I did not know .. had no wish to know… having hidden myself within her.
But her sudden, open contempt ! a strong move, equal to any woman . A very big surprise for Peter …..indeed.
Hardly had any grounds for satisfaction with her situation now, to see fifteen months of my work, my love, gone up so very quickly… in smoke. Had not the slightest intention of bringing her back to life, as Cynthia and I had done last spring when she came here on her knees with tears, anguish, hands clasped in supplication.
Cynthia, silent, still.. a sphinx.. ..A tiger snake poised, watching a rabbit .
Stood by the stove, warming my backside, perhaps hoping Aura would say something interesting.. knew she would not. Simply, softly, said she had been in hospital for ten days, that she was to see a psychiatrist…..
Another bloody Susan..
Said very loudly, she did not need a psychiatrist ..she needed to go back to Church on her knees and ask God or whomever there may be in this Universe to forgive her, her treachery, her arrogance and contempt for other human beings.
She muttered on, almost incoherently… How the German had "Pushed Her' in his frustration, his discovery of her double life.. but he had nothing to be indignant about, only coming to Romania to see what women he could pick up on the cheap, as so many other men do, especially those who work for airlines. He conveniently working for Lufthansa, came here every few weeks with his boyfriend, both only paying 10% of the fare, he also paid nothing for the incessant bombardment of telephone calls he made to Aura.. controlling her every movement, night and day, on her mobile. Lufthansa picked up that tab… knowingly or otherwise. Hardly know why she stood all that aggravation.. stood the three card trick apparently .. for a promise.. of..
A Passport to the West.
Did not bother to answer her soft voice.. walked away into the night… back to Cynthia ..who, as always , as ever, was waiting
After my Sunday night stroll, not really surprised at Aura appearing at the door the following evening…some people call it telepathy, or was it perhaps, the repercussions of the photograph I sent her of a certain young, naked lady, holding Aura's favorite toy.. was it that ?…. maybe.
Drifted last night down the other end of town, her end ..her deserted street.. her house.. A silent Sunday evening.. the soft swish of trolley busses .. silent people disappearing into the silent labyrinths of existence.
Stood solitary opposite her entrance as had done in other places at other times, other female faces.. Nothing ever changes…
Finally rang the intercom.. the other girl answered , the young, small, quiet one, the one deeply interested in her clitoris…frequently examining it with a mirror. A charming young woman. Last saw her , my last evening with Aura ..she had been stitched up by her "employer" refused to give her wages on some pretext, leaving the girl on the verge of starvation. She in bed that evening.. Gave Aura $40 to give her, which brought a faint smile to her existence..
Whatever, Cyn and I ..Lord and Lady Dunnabunk, sitting here in the warm sanity.. gently laid back, gently sipping our drinks.. impervious of the World outside, beneath, around us…
Looked at Aura through the glass, knew she was agitated.. invariably is whenever she arrived at Beller, always left smiling.
This time round, rather imagined it would be different..
Asked her through the glass to calm down .
Let her in .. she almost unrecognizable, noticeably aged.. the attractive, handsome, young woman I had created, now like a taxi which had been left lying about in a yard, neglected.
With confidence, could say I was not responsible for this aging apparition, sitting crouched on the sofa.. the one we had spent so many hot,, erotic nights together on. Did it to herself, aided and abetted by some other man, who hardly had the interest in her I had so consistently shown…for what… ultimately? A sharp, cowardly, stab in the back. But this is life, I, of all people on this Planet, not in any position to remonstrate. Deep down , all along, aware of the inevitable coming, in what form, I did not know .. had no wish to know… having hidden myself within her.
But her sudden, open contempt ! a strong move, equal to any woman . A very big surprise for Peter …..indeed.
Hardly had any grounds for satisfaction with her situation now, to see fifteen months of my work, my love, gone up so very quickly… in smoke. Had not the slightest intention of bringing her back to life, as Cynthia and I had done last spring when she came here on her knees with tears, anguish, hands clasped in supplication.
Cynthia, silent, still.. a sphinx.. ..A tiger snake poised, watching a rabbit .
Stood by the stove, warming my backside, perhaps hoping Aura would say something interesting.. knew she would not. Simply, softly, said she had been in hospital for ten days, that she was to see a psychiatrist…..
Another bloody Susan..
Said very loudly, she did not need a psychiatrist ..she needed to go back to Church on her knees and ask God or whomever there may be in this Universe to forgive her, her treachery, her arrogance and contempt for other human beings.
She muttered on, almost incoherently… How the German had "Pushed Her' in his frustration, his discovery of her double life.. but he had nothing to be indignant about, only coming to Romania to see what women he could pick up on the cheap, as so many other men do, especially those who work for airlines. He conveniently working for Lufthansa, came here every few weeks with his boyfriend, both only paying 10% of the fare, he also paid nothing for the incessant bombardment of telephone calls he made to Aura.. controlling her every movement, night and day, on her mobile. Lufthansa picked up that tab… knowingly or otherwise. Hardly know why she stood all that aggravation.. stood the three card trick apparently .. for a promise.. of..
A Passport to the West.
Did not bother to answer her soft voice.. walked away into the night… back to Cynthia ..who, as always , as ever, was waiting
After my Sunday night stroll, not really surprised at Aura appearing at the door the following evening…some people call it telepathy, or was it perhaps, the repercussions of the photograph I sent her of a certain young, naked lady, holding Aura's favorite toy.. was it that ?…. maybe.
Nun for you and nun for me
Had rather a interesting confrontation with that young woman a couple of days ago.. A particularly hot evening, about 4.p.m. Glorious…
Never been to Aura's home, abode.. where she stayed, where she supervised these other young ladies, the house belonging to some Germans, they quite pleased to have Aura run it for them .
Often, over the long period of time I have know Aura, had heard stories, yet always kept discreetly away from the premises, hardly worried me. Have been kept away from, shall we perhaps say, better places, a mere detail in the arrangement she and I had.
This particular afternoon started thinking, little else too do, Cyntia having triggered the idea of popping round previously, she being rather cute at indirectly wynding people up. Made me think, maybe I should drop by, see what does transpire, what does go on, if anything.
Peter put his shorts on, his "Pattaya" singlet, his gold braided "Tottenham" supporters hat, bare feet other than for sandals .. black glasses..
Dresses for the beach, apparently. Quite brown now ..all over.. dressed in almost nothing. Looked good, felt up to the occasion, which I knew it was going to be.
Called the cab, showed him the bit of paper, useless trying to pronounce these streets.
Personally, like Bucharest cabs ..taking your life in your hands every second of the way, the overriding factors being it is extremely cheap and I am not driving…A change for me to sit in the back seat, which I always do.
So, sat in the back seat, put my feet up, made myself quite comfortable, hung tightly on to the handrail above the door, lucky this time there was one.. usually they are broken off, the doors actually closed fully.. Not the faintest echo of the Public carriage office and the Hackney carriage rules and regulations.. quite refreshing
The Taxi inspectors at Penton street would have a group heart attack if they saw this lot of rotting metal hurtling about the boulevards.
Set out on our journey through the pot holes, through the trams, the buses, veering through the cars the hooting and the honking.. the mad rush to oblivion. The driver successfully fought his way through, as they all do, James Bond fashion, regardless of my asking him to take it easy, I, in no particular hurry. My few words of Romanian.. totally ignored .. Foot down, hand on the horn. This piece of protracted excitement, travelling across town, cost me just over a pound sterling, gave him a couple of bob on top, he, most grateful .
Arrived, the driver did the business at the door ringing, evidently the wrong bell, as there was no answer. Thought, well I will hang about, nothing else too do.. he left leaving me posing on the doorstep in my very brief attire. Waited about half an hour.
Aura had mentioned having a Nun stay with her, I always fancied a drop of nun.. "Nun for you and nun for me"… how the story goes.. Wondered what manner of Nun she was.. complete with a mobile phone and a penchant for Jack Daniel's whisky, must be interesting..
Lo and Behold.. along comes a nun in full rig, she not knowing me from bar of soap, I standing in front of the street door, she opened it, followed her in, gave me a funny look, followed her to the lift, gave me another funny look, muttered something, muttered a few words back, pointing upwards towards God, which no doubt consoled her.. Stepped out the same landing as herself, now she quite worried this naked man, in her terms, perhaps pursuing her, maybe believing her luck had changed, who knows what a nun thinks?? When I stood by the same door as she, she became very worried, anyway the door was opened. .there was someone there, as said, the cab driver had rung the wrong bell. Consternation ! Aura not there. .her friend whom I assumed was the girl friend of the Swiss man I heard so very much about, who had received so much money, she gave me a strange look, the nun gave me a strange look…
Asked for Aura, said she was not there, said I would wait and gave every indication of doing so indefinitely.
With that they invited me in into a strange room, in a time warp, furniture at least fifty years old.. clearly nothing had been touched.. neat and tidy.. Large terrace which I went and sat on.. A drink materialized.. the usual 90 % proof stuff.. firewater nothing less. .quite usual in Romania.
Had a few sips, knowing full well they would tip Aura off on the mobile phone I had given her. Peter was there ..never fear.. They disappeared, I sat, looking at the landscape.
Eventually recovering their composure, Aura no doubt informing them I would not bite.. invited me in, another drink.
Now quite comfortable.. few drinks, chatting the birds.. Peter's forte..
Asked the girl, in all innocence, about her "Swiss" man. She came back "What Swiss man !?" Here we go.. Peter thought ..strange.. "You are Auras' friend.. the one she has Known since childhood??" Yes, she was, however, her boy friend, she insisted, was a "Turk" Rather the other end of the spectrum.." Oh…!"
Never said anything more. The nun disappeared. She had been hit by a car, quite seriously damaging her eye.. so very dangerous cars in Bucharest.. no compensation, peanuts.. about all..
Sat there, almost naked as far as these ladies were so obviously concerned . Did have my heavy silver bracelet with the names of all my known children, which offset the inclination of looking at me as if I were some hooligan.
Aura made her breathless, dramatic appearance just as I was getting into the swing of things .
To say she was giving me black looks in no way described her demeanor. If she had a knife she would , I say without hesitation, have stabbed me that instant, that split second in time, when our eyes met.
She removed, somewhat brusquely, my dark glasses in order to get a much better look at me, maybe believing looks could kill. Peter refusing to be ruffled by this display on her part and put the glasses, quite deliberately back on his face.
Apparent the last person she wanted to see in that apartment was Peter. I had already jumped to that obvious conclusion .. enjoying the situation immensely..
From the "Off" known, for whatever reason, Peter had to be kept under wraps , however , here he was, bold, bold as a bowler hat on a Bradford millionaire, sitting quite comfortably, pumping her friend… Still of the opinion Aura's previous.. a Greek.. was still lurking around in his BMW.
Well, we shall see now..
kids stuff….. we know.
Enjoyed it, which is the criterion in my life now… whether or not anything amuses me and it does take rather a lot to do so.
Quite casually, started the ball rolling with …..
"Where is the young lady ..your friend whom you have told me so very much about.. the one who has the "Swiss Man " the man who gives her $12.000 as if it were mere bagatelle!!!
"I do not have any other men" this reply through the tears.. "So why are you crying your eyes out.."
Now really starting to shout and I can do so extremely loudly, loud enough for people to come out on their verandahs, no discretion here, no twitching net curtains "Crying because I lied to you"
"Well, you would not be the first woman to do that or quite conceivably, the last"
Most women lie to Peter, quite a common characteristic for females to lie, even the most devoutly religious ones ..as found to my cost. It is part of the female .
"So why did you concoct such a elaborate story which continued for months??
" I don't know" she said lamely
As Raluca, she went very strange just before sticking the knife in and stole a apartment from me.
On the face of it I had obviously driven Aura mad as have done with the other female faces. All the women ever encountered have cracked in one way or the other.. so it must be Peter. Know I am no good. No! will not go to heaven.
When it comes to women, they simply cannot handle it, must be something about me.. not playing by the rules..
By now, quite a audience, said to Fanny "if you do not tell me now, this instant what is going on and stop sniveling, I will shout louder.." We had taken the situation out to the edge of the terrace. Glorious evening, people becoming quite engrossed in this clearly mad foreigner.. this ancient old man shouting at the young woman.
As my mother, the more she was told to "Shut Up" the louder she shouted, she never gave a toss for anyone. Only the Blacks eventually intimidated and humiliated her, broke her, as so many other old ladies.
Why should I shut up?? have looked after the girl as if she were wife, mistress, princess, daughter, …..granddaughter, which she could be.. simply not the slightest grounds for fucking me about ..story of Peter.
Had every right to know what is going on in the young woman's life, away from myself, when she did not show, feel I am not unreasonable .
By now the girl like a piece of wet rag, all her arrogance, independence, determination if you like, ebbed away as quickly as the tide on Maldon Flats.
Said to her 'Going to stay here until the Greek shows up, like a good fight.. not had one for ages'
"I have no Greek.. he is in England "she insisted.. "How do I know that?? you are capable of telling me anything which comes into your head ..which you think may fit your plan. Yes, I do know what you told me about the Greek, you also told me your girlfriend had a Swiss boyfriend…giving her $12000 a time.…"
Had to rub it in, anyway the little drama had dragged on for about two hours, I getting tired and bored, had my evenings entertainment.
Tried to wynd the situation down.
"Hardly know what to say in these cases, never know what there is too say, what can be said?.. No answer on this Planet, do not ask me for one. As most females, you, consciously or otherwise, revel in being a enigma, a mystery.. What are you all about!? ..why tell me such intricate stories..? hardly run away with the idea you are different from any other woman, because you are not"
Started to consider my situation.. how many 71 year old men have 23 year old birds?? With that thought decided to ease off further, poor bitch..
Why concern myself why? Why she came out with such a fanny of a story, so much conviction attached to it.
Thought of one or two other stories I had been told by other female faces, told with so much earnestness, so much conviction.
I shut up.
No longer interested, very tired.. needed a drink, needed to go back to the comparative sanity of Cynthia, someone who so far has not gone quite off her rocker, has come pretty close to it on occasions. She possess this fierce determination to hold on to Peter and evidently her sanity at all costs, do not know why, disregarding his wanderings, his misplaced attitudes, his lack of respect for society and the people in it, herself on occasions. All this she totally ignores, acts at times, as if Aura is part of the family, other times, she is slightly more the other way. Whatever, the situation, so far as she is concerned… Nothing too much trouble.. twenty four hours a day.. every day. Naturally, now wanting to return to Cynthia on my weary horse, weary of charging at windmills, needing the comfort of a "Home" .
By now the situation had subsided, Aura going down in the lift with me, I also thinking more practically… of her beautiful naked body in bed and the way she can use it….
She told the cab driver the directions, plenty on my mind without attempting the Romanian language.
Saw I had recovered, now more pliable, looking at her breasts, falling the way all women wish all men to fall ..hostage to their charms, their mystery, aware I had not taken too much real interest in her little lies, saw also, her own position had completely changed, the "Cat out of the bag".. having to admit the truth to her friends.
God knows what fanny, what fairy stories she had told them about the "Englishman". Probably I was "Prince Charming", twenty four years old, had three camels and two Mercedes, for all I know..
All out in the open now .. she working her way through University………Okay..
My parting shot.
"Better have a shower, straighten your face out, change your knickers, come round about nine………"
Drifted away.
An evenings' entertainment.. something..
Had little intention of mentioning to Cyn, would only be ammunition for her to throw at me, not directly.. simply sniping at the opportune moment, as indeed every woman, a inherent capability.. biding their time.. then shooting straight when one is unprepared.
Naturally she is not entirely happy with the situation, although it suits her sometimes.. My, shall we say "girlfriend" living with us occasionally. Then we all have our problems. I making it quiet clear when she married me, would still play my small games, this she readily concurred to.
If she tries to become respectable now, slippers by the fire. nodding my evenings away in the armchair.. loses her fetish for the whip, the chains and the handcuffs. Watching me watching the legs go by, watching the breasts go by……in other arms, in other situations… bizarre conceivably, in other people's terms.
Too late, Peter will never change, not going to "succumb" as Susan would say, almost went down with that trollop.. have no intention of changing or shutting up to suit anyone, why should I?
"No one keeps me ..!" As my mother would say acidly, with some bitterness, some venom.
End of another little story.
That was it ! she suddenly broke down into sobs and gasps, all the belligerence and venom, turning to water. Collapsed within herself ..said she had lied.. I said "Fucking sure you have" my voice beginning to gain momentum. I usually speak too softly for most people. Said to her "Had this situation long before you were born, before your mother was born," so I came straight out with it asking "So where's the geezer!!"
Aura came round.. very demure, had a little food, a little red wine..
Bed.
A long night, which she spent most of gently crying in my arms, nothing was going to console her, as if a child ……..as my children..
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"There'ya are, sport.. There'ya go."
….. As they would remark in "Orstrilia".
August. 6th; 2000. …. Jennifer's Birthday……
3.30.a.m…. Jennifer's time.
Never been to Aura's home, abode.. where she stayed, where she supervised these other young ladies, the house belonging to some Germans, they quite pleased to have Aura run it for them .
Often, over the long period of time I have know Aura, had heard stories, yet always kept discreetly away from the premises, hardly worried me. Have been kept away from, shall we perhaps say, better places, a mere detail in the arrangement she and I had.
This particular afternoon started thinking, little else too do, Cyntia having triggered the idea of popping round previously, she being rather cute at indirectly wynding people up. Made me think, maybe I should drop by, see what does transpire, what does go on, if anything.
Peter put his shorts on, his "Pattaya" singlet, his gold braided "Tottenham" supporters hat, bare feet other than for sandals .. black glasses..
Dresses for the beach, apparently. Quite brown now ..all over.. dressed in almost nothing. Looked good, felt up to the occasion, which I knew it was going to be.
Called the cab, showed him the bit of paper, useless trying to pronounce these streets.
Personally, like Bucharest cabs ..taking your life in your hands every second of the way, the overriding factors being it is extremely cheap and I am not driving…A change for me to sit in the back seat, which I always do.
So, sat in the back seat, put my feet up, made myself quite comfortable, hung tightly on to the handrail above the door, lucky this time there was one.. usually they are broken off, the doors actually closed fully.. Not the faintest echo of the Public carriage office and the Hackney carriage rules and regulations.. quite refreshing
The Taxi inspectors at Penton street would have a group heart attack if they saw this lot of rotting metal hurtling about the boulevards.
Set out on our journey through the pot holes, through the trams, the buses, veering through the cars the hooting and the honking.. the mad rush to oblivion. The driver successfully fought his way through, as they all do, James Bond fashion, regardless of my asking him to take it easy, I, in no particular hurry. My few words of Romanian.. totally ignored .. Foot down, hand on the horn. This piece of protracted excitement, travelling across town, cost me just over a pound sterling, gave him a couple of bob on top, he, most grateful .
Arrived, the driver did the business at the door ringing, evidently the wrong bell, as there was no answer. Thought, well I will hang about, nothing else too do.. he left leaving me posing on the doorstep in my very brief attire. Waited about half an hour.
Aura had mentioned having a Nun stay with her, I always fancied a drop of nun.. "Nun for you and nun for me"… how the story goes.. Wondered what manner of Nun she was.. complete with a mobile phone and a penchant for Jack Daniel's whisky, must be interesting..
Lo and Behold.. along comes a nun in full rig, she not knowing me from bar of soap, I standing in front of the street door, she opened it, followed her in, gave me a funny look, followed her to the lift, gave me another funny look, muttered something, muttered a few words back, pointing upwards towards God, which no doubt consoled her.. Stepped out the same landing as herself, now she quite worried this naked man, in her terms, perhaps pursuing her, maybe believing her luck had changed, who knows what a nun thinks?? When I stood by the same door as she, she became very worried, anyway the door was opened. .there was someone there, as said, the cab driver had rung the wrong bell. Consternation ! Aura not there. .her friend whom I assumed was the girl friend of the Swiss man I heard so very much about, who had received so much money, she gave me a strange look, the nun gave me a strange look…
Asked for Aura, said she was not there, said I would wait and gave every indication of doing so indefinitely.
With that they invited me in into a strange room, in a time warp, furniture at least fifty years old.. clearly nothing had been touched.. neat and tidy.. Large terrace which I went and sat on.. A drink materialized.. the usual 90 % proof stuff.. firewater nothing less. .quite usual in Romania.
Had a few sips, knowing full well they would tip Aura off on the mobile phone I had given her. Peter was there ..never fear.. They disappeared, I sat, looking at the landscape.
Eventually recovering their composure, Aura no doubt informing them I would not bite.. invited me in, another drink.
Now quite comfortable.. few drinks, chatting the birds.. Peter's forte..
Asked the girl, in all innocence, about her "Swiss" man. She came back "What Swiss man !?" Here we go.. Peter thought ..strange.. "You are Auras' friend.. the one she has Known since childhood??" Yes, she was, however, her boy friend, she insisted, was a "Turk" Rather the other end of the spectrum.." Oh…!"
Never said anything more. The nun disappeared. She had been hit by a car, quite seriously damaging her eye.. so very dangerous cars in Bucharest.. no compensation, peanuts.. about all..
Sat there, almost naked as far as these ladies were so obviously concerned . Did have my heavy silver bracelet with the names of all my known children, which offset the inclination of looking at me as if I were some hooligan.
Aura made her breathless, dramatic appearance just as I was getting into the swing of things .
To say she was giving me black looks in no way described her demeanor. If she had a knife she would , I say without hesitation, have stabbed me that instant, that split second in time, when our eyes met.
She removed, somewhat brusquely, my dark glasses in order to get a much better look at me, maybe believing looks could kill. Peter refusing to be ruffled by this display on her part and put the glasses, quite deliberately back on his face.
Apparent the last person she wanted to see in that apartment was Peter. I had already jumped to that obvious conclusion .. enjoying the situation immensely..
From the "Off" known, for whatever reason, Peter had to be kept under wraps , however , here he was, bold, bold as a bowler hat on a Bradford millionaire, sitting quite comfortably, pumping her friend… Still of the opinion Aura's previous.. a Greek.. was still lurking around in his BMW.
Well, we shall see now..
kids stuff….. we know.
Enjoyed it, which is the criterion in my life now… whether or not anything amuses me and it does take rather a lot to do so.
Quite casually, started the ball rolling with …..
"Where is the young lady ..your friend whom you have told me so very much about.. the one who has the "Swiss Man " the man who gives her $12.000 as if it were mere bagatelle!!!
"I do not have any other men" this reply through the tears.. "So why are you crying your eyes out.."
Now really starting to shout and I can do so extremely loudly, loud enough for people to come out on their verandahs, no discretion here, no twitching net curtains "Crying because I lied to you"
"Well, you would not be the first woman to do that or quite conceivably, the last"
Most women lie to Peter, quite a common characteristic for females to lie, even the most devoutly religious ones ..as found to my cost. It is part of the female .
"So why did you concoct such a elaborate story which continued for months??
" I don't know" she said lamely
As Raluca, she went very strange just before sticking the knife in and stole a apartment from me.
On the face of it I had obviously driven Aura mad as have done with the other female faces. All the women ever encountered have cracked in one way or the other.. so it must be Peter. Know I am no good. No! will not go to heaven.
When it comes to women, they simply cannot handle it, must be something about me.. not playing by the rules..
By now, quite a audience, said to Fanny "if you do not tell me now, this instant what is going on and stop sniveling, I will shout louder.." We had taken the situation out to the edge of the terrace. Glorious evening, people becoming quite engrossed in this clearly mad foreigner.. this ancient old man shouting at the young woman.
As my mother, the more she was told to "Shut Up" the louder she shouted, she never gave a toss for anyone. Only the Blacks eventually intimidated and humiliated her, broke her, as so many other old ladies.
Why should I shut up?? have looked after the girl as if she were wife, mistress, princess, daughter, …..granddaughter, which she could be.. simply not the slightest grounds for fucking me about ..story of Peter.
Had every right to know what is going on in the young woman's life, away from myself, when she did not show, feel I am not unreasonable .
By now the girl like a piece of wet rag, all her arrogance, independence, determination if you like, ebbed away as quickly as the tide on Maldon Flats.
Said to her 'Going to stay here until the Greek shows up, like a good fight.. not had one for ages'
"I have no Greek.. he is in England "she insisted.. "How do I know that?? you are capable of telling me anything which comes into your head ..which you think may fit your plan. Yes, I do know what you told me about the Greek, you also told me your girlfriend had a Swiss boyfriend…giving her $12000 a time.…"
Had to rub it in, anyway the little drama had dragged on for about two hours, I getting tired and bored, had my evenings entertainment.
Tried to wynd the situation down.
"Hardly know what to say in these cases, never know what there is too say, what can be said?.. No answer on this Planet, do not ask me for one. As most females, you, consciously or otherwise, revel in being a enigma, a mystery.. What are you all about!? ..why tell me such intricate stories..? hardly run away with the idea you are different from any other woman, because you are not"
Started to consider my situation.. how many 71 year old men have 23 year old birds?? With that thought decided to ease off further, poor bitch..
Why concern myself why? Why she came out with such a fanny of a story, so much conviction attached to it.
Thought of one or two other stories I had been told by other female faces, told with so much earnestness, so much conviction.
I shut up.
No longer interested, very tired.. needed a drink, needed to go back to the comparative sanity of Cynthia, someone who so far has not gone quite off her rocker, has come pretty close to it on occasions. She possess this fierce determination to hold on to Peter and evidently her sanity at all costs, do not know why, disregarding his wanderings, his misplaced attitudes, his lack of respect for society and the people in it, herself on occasions. All this she totally ignores, acts at times, as if Aura is part of the family, other times, she is slightly more the other way. Whatever, the situation, so far as she is concerned… Nothing too much trouble.. twenty four hours a day.. every day. Naturally, now wanting to return to Cynthia on my weary horse, weary of charging at windmills, needing the comfort of a "Home" .
By now the situation had subsided, Aura going down in the lift with me, I also thinking more practically… of her beautiful naked body in bed and the way she can use it….
She told the cab driver the directions, plenty on my mind without attempting the Romanian language.
Saw I had recovered, now more pliable, looking at her breasts, falling the way all women wish all men to fall ..hostage to their charms, their mystery, aware I had not taken too much real interest in her little lies, saw also, her own position had completely changed, the "Cat out of the bag".. having to admit the truth to her friends.
God knows what fanny, what fairy stories she had told them about the "Englishman". Probably I was "Prince Charming", twenty four years old, had three camels and two Mercedes, for all I know..
All out in the open now .. she working her way through University………Okay..
My parting shot.
"Better have a shower, straighten your face out, change your knickers, come round about nine………"
Drifted away.
An evenings' entertainment.. something..
Had little intention of mentioning to Cyn, would only be ammunition for her to throw at me, not directly.. simply sniping at the opportune moment, as indeed every woman, a inherent capability.. biding their time.. then shooting straight when one is unprepared.
Naturally she is not entirely happy with the situation, although it suits her sometimes.. My, shall we say "girlfriend" living with us occasionally. Then we all have our problems. I making it quiet clear when she married me, would still play my small games, this she readily concurred to.
If she tries to become respectable now, slippers by the fire. nodding my evenings away in the armchair.. loses her fetish for the whip, the chains and the handcuffs. Watching me watching the legs go by, watching the breasts go by……in other arms, in other situations… bizarre conceivably, in other people's terms.
Too late, Peter will never change, not going to "succumb" as Susan would say, almost went down with that trollop.. have no intention of changing or shutting up to suit anyone, why should I?
"No one keeps me ..!" As my mother would say acidly, with some bitterness, some venom.
End of another little story.
That was it ! she suddenly broke down into sobs and gasps, all the belligerence and venom, turning to water. Collapsed within herself ..said she had lied.. I said "Fucking sure you have" my voice beginning to gain momentum. I usually speak too softly for most people. Said to her "Had this situation long before you were born, before your mother was born," so I came straight out with it asking "So where's the geezer!!"
Aura came round.. very demure, had a little food, a little red wine..
Bed.
A long night, which she spent most of gently crying in my arms, nothing was going to console her, as if a child ……..as my children..
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"There'ya are, sport.. There'ya go."
….. As they would remark in "Orstrilia".
August. 6th; 2000. …. Jennifer's Birthday……
3.30.a.m…. Jennifer's time.
Radu Beller Sunday, May 14, 2000…….4:57 PM
Been a very hot day, did precisely nothing, Cyn went to Church and returned sometime late this afternoon, suited me, her disappearing with her friends.
Woke this morning very early, knew it would be a nothing day, wished I could skip this particular twenty four hours, make it Monday morning as , perhaps , so many other people, find Sundays a drag. Okay back in London.. about this time get in the cab, drift down to the Royal Oak see all the surviving faces, have my tea, have my chat, go out ..drift down Edgware road in the evening sunlight, see who is who, what is what, wait for the first nonchalantly waving hand, usually a couple of young, smart Arabs, wanting the short ride down to the Hilton, a start to the evenings work, they mostly give over the odds.
Beginning to see quite clearly, my period of Clapton Common and the Cab trade was not the horror story I always believed it to be. .not after having so much empty time to simply sit and watch other people's lives from the inside, after being on the outside all those years, crawling in the gutters, which cannot be disputed, no more than that.
Now time ticks interminably.. my initial reaction to this morning was to get on a plane and go home.. do a long Sunday with Barry.. the day he goes to town in a very big way.. forget the other six. Sunday for him is a fifteen hrs.. every Sunday.. written elsewhere about him, how the life has left its mark on him his eyesight.. Work and its consequences can be more appealing to simply sitting about as King Farouk, as I do…not quite rotting away, because I do find plenty to occupy myself with ..it would be easy simply to let go as Cyntia would like …do nothing, turn into a cabbage.. her looking after every, my slightest whim and need...I becoming simply a nothing... Have not lived for so long to let that happen, If I am going to die, wish to die either in the arms of two or three young women, or at the wheel, probably round Russel square. Not as one of my friends, still driving at eighty two, driving home late one night to Brighton, if you don’t mind, he pulled over for a sleep.. the cab and himself squashed like box of tomatoes by a heavy lorry ..the driver fallen asleep ..my friend never knew what hit him .. a good way to go
It possibly sound extreme but being "retired' is akin to living in a padded cell, regardless of glimpses of life here I have portrayed. As also said, there are very many men who would like to be in my position.. anyway…… will "shut up" as Aura always demands of me…afraid I may start shouting ..she becoming tremulous……
Woke this morning very early, knew it would be a nothing day, wished I could skip this particular twenty four hours, make it Monday morning as , perhaps , so many other people, find Sundays a drag. Okay back in London.. about this time get in the cab, drift down to the Royal Oak see all the surviving faces, have my tea, have my chat, go out ..drift down Edgware road in the evening sunlight, see who is who, what is what, wait for the first nonchalantly waving hand, usually a couple of young, smart Arabs, wanting the short ride down to the Hilton, a start to the evenings work, they mostly give over the odds.
Beginning to see quite clearly, my period of Clapton Common and the Cab trade was not the horror story I always believed it to be. .not after having so much empty time to simply sit and watch other people's lives from the inside, after being on the outside all those years, crawling in the gutters, which cannot be disputed, no more than that.
Now time ticks interminably.. my initial reaction to this morning was to get on a plane and go home.. do a long Sunday with Barry.. the day he goes to town in a very big way.. forget the other six. Sunday for him is a fifteen hrs.. every Sunday.. written elsewhere about him, how the life has left its mark on him his eyesight.. Work and its consequences can be more appealing to simply sitting about as King Farouk, as I do…not quite rotting away, because I do find plenty to occupy myself with ..it would be easy simply to let go as Cyntia would like …do nothing, turn into a cabbage.. her looking after every, my slightest whim and need...I becoming simply a nothing... Have not lived for so long to let that happen, If I am going to die, wish to die either in the arms of two or three young women, or at the wheel, probably round Russel square. Not as one of my friends, still driving at eighty two, driving home late one night to Brighton, if you don’t mind, he pulled over for a sleep.. the cab and himself squashed like box of tomatoes by a heavy lorry ..the driver fallen asleep ..my friend never knew what hit him .. a good way to go
It possibly sound extreme but being "retired' is akin to living in a padded cell, regardless of glimpses of life here I have portrayed. As also said, there are very many men who would like to be in my position.. anyway…… will "shut up" as Aura always demands of me…afraid I may start shouting ..she becoming tremulous……
The Belgium Man with the Satellite Position Finder
A Belgian friend of mine finaly left here this morning.
In the course of the previous 24hrs, he disposed of his secretary, general dogs body, sleeping partner, a most charming, intelligent young woman of nineteen, sent her home, put her on the train.
From that moment, yesterday lunch time, with Aura and I sitting here with him.. seeing quite clearly thriough his quite insensitive manouvre , as the young, tearful lady most certainly did, he wanting the opportunity to partake of "greener fields" before flying home to his old woman and the dog, He never stopped calling in his quest , the whole of Romania…simply to find someone else to sleep with for the one remaining night. Have not seen such a performance with a man since my days of Thailand, however, he did take us to lunch, more as a gesture towards Aura whom he could barely stop from touching, her long legs inches from him.
We went in a stretched limousine, to a rather smart restaurant overlooking the lake at Herastrau park, he, still on the telephone and smoking inordinately. Looked at me, looked at Aura, still having the greatest difficulty in keeping his hands off. For nothing he had already given her a most expensive piece of facial make up, Aura being Aura, immediately priced it, concluding it was about a million Lei.. Big money in Bucharest.
He smiled uncertainly, I smiled back. Aura slowly, deliberately, recrossed her legs at him.
Not too much sympathy for a man who wants a woman, but too intolerant of them basically, too full of himself, completely without any conception of the patience/kindness required.
I finaly said
"Well maybe you had better talk to Cynthia.."
The master of all ceremonies, can conjure up people out of a hat.
Rang her, asked if she could, would help a man in his desperation, tried not to let the smile come out with the words.. he needs someone to sleep with…tonight.. now, immediately, instantly.. Cynthia being Cynthia said without any hesitation .."of course".
Walked along by the lake waiting for the car, Aura and I hand in hand ,such a glorious afternoon, felt about eighteen years old.
My friend looked at us, he had hardly recovered from the fact of my age, always imagined I was the same as he.. early fifties.. Here was this old man, this ancient mariner with this quite "beautiful woman".. his remark.. strolling, totally entwined, she, quite obviously loved him, quite obviously having his interest only, quite obviously her calculator switched off.
No, there is something many other men have never learnt.. other, simple ways besides the Swiss man's $12000, my friend's $100 notes, a lap top computer and mobile phone. "The" price he is willing to pay for "love", to dispel his impatience, his urgency, his deep sense of isolation, to dispel that ultimately, he is ..we are…… alone
Quite sad, nevertheless the reality of this existence
Why Pattaya is so washed out now. All the young ladies, completely and utterly after the Big Buck and only that … the gentle kindness, the soft smile of my time out there….. gone forever.
Drifted round to Cynthia's placed of work. Lo and behold, she had come up with Lisa, nineteen years old, the age the man specified. A attractive country girl with a sharp metropolitan outlook, living, so far as I could see, entirely on her wits, a credit to her. Unfortunately it did happen to be the young lady's time of the month.. what can be said.?
He? .. he ignored this aspect of life and pressed relentlessly ever onwards, pursuing her round my apartment, such as it is, hid myself on the computer. Cyn and Aura went off somewhere, leaving him to watch her trying to clean herself up.. no limits so far as he was evidently concerned, no 'decorum' as my father would have said.
After a couple of hours he had evidently given up, she departing, smiling , no doubt having had a prize of some consideration, her little twist was to ask me, in all innocence, quite casually in front of him, when I would be available to do some nude photography of her.. She quite impressed with my collection of the past. hanging about the walls. His face rather fell at this riposte, he having to fly out, not allowed, no time to be a voyeur
The drama, far from finished, the moment Lisa wound her way down the stairs, it was phone out, ringing a lady whom he had never met, only on the Net.. she living on the Black sea, Constanta, three hours by train and it was now five p.m. After some gentle talk by our friend, never a clue as the pressure, the desperation hidden .. Yes he would meet her, a blind date at Gara De Nord railway station, 9.30.p.m. which he did, I having to accompany him, he pacing up and down the concourse, still smoking like a chimney ,now looking considerably the worse for wear, both worried and haggard.
It had been for him, a long, frustrating, very hot day. For my part, in my nakedness, had achieved quite a good colour all over, disregarding the spot of skin cancer I had picked up in Stevenage, a fall out from the Chernobyl fiasco'.
After innumerable looks at his watch he impatiently rang her on his mobile, she answered standing next to him, thought this amusing.. contact in the twenty first century.. not waiting outside the Pavilion picture house Mare street in the pouring rain .Turned out, she, a very handsome looking woman, about twenty two, all the right things in all the right places. Not had sex since her husband was killed in a car smash twelve months previous, so it turned out. Evidently my friends' persistence had paid off rather well. The lady looking naturally nervous also quite tired having just left work after a 48 hour shift at a internet café, 280 hrs a month for $62 less tax.. can't be bad???.
After the excitement and the train journey, not fully awake. In McDonalds where we all trooped, difficult for her to remain with eyelids open.. Her brother had come as a chaperone or whatever, both speaking excellent English. All three looked at each other in expectation. Decided would prefer to go home and go to bed, which I did, leaving them to it.
Midnight, thereabouts, knock at the door, they needed a cork screw. Two bottles of wine without a corkscrew. Peter being obliging which he can occasionally be … The brother, having been, no doubt, suitably reimbursed, had caught the midnight train back.
My friend and the young lady sat in the almost silent evening on the terrace, even the dogs had shut up. Stars glittered , a cool, comfortable night.
Now it had finaly come to the crunch, my man had gone almost into reverse. Now no rush to put this young lady in the huge brass bed which only creaked if people were really carried away.. wondered if it would creak later, she could hardly keep her eyes open, poor cow . Left them to it.
This morning they emerged at 9.a..m she looking rather delicious "Like a strawberry waiting to be licked" My comment to Cynthia, A very brief, almost transparent bright green dressing gown. I sufficiently impressed to somewhat surreptitiously give her our phone number.
But she was "Off" without any doubt.. obviously quite disenchanted with our man. "No thank you" to breakfast.. Simply wanting to escape, if that is the word, which she did within twenty minutes.
He smiled at the situation, attempting to bluff it out, saying, without the slightest conviction "She loves me really.". thought, "please yourself".
No sooner had she wound herself down the spiral staircase, the cab door slammed, than our man had whipped his mobile out and begging one of his local reserves to escort him to Otopeni airport. Well what can I say about that? Entertaining if you like, the man is at least human, generous. His performance, his sex drive, quite remarkable, so comparatively late in life.
He went away to his wife and dog, perhaps belatedly , perhaps somewhat sadly.. alone, with regret, leaving the lovely ladies of Romania, looking at me, my life style in the Sun, waited on like King Farouk. Knowing I was not going to go jetting off, continually checking the GSM global position finder which he carries about in his pocket and has it on the table in front of him when sitting down, possibly worried the World will move without his knowledge. Concerned, one morning, that our position in space had moved thirty metres!!
Aura, very quick thinking woman she is, asks, when my hands start to wander, asks if I need a position finder ? should she maybe buy me one for Xmas……
So he departed, ruefully, if you like, as when men leave Pattaya, leave the girls, leave other men with them ..by the pool in the iridescent sunlight, the soft laughter, the tinkle of glasses, the clatter of coffee cups, the splash of clear, warm water.
Shook my hand, climbed into the cab …..drove away, gone. Cynthia gone, I left alone in peace.
Silence, other than for the barking dogs.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
In the course of the previous 24hrs, he disposed of his secretary, general dogs body, sleeping partner, a most charming, intelligent young woman of nineteen, sent her home, put her on the train.
From that moment, yesterday lunch time, with Aura and I sitting here with him.. seeing quite clearly thriough his quite insensitive manouvre , as the young, tearful lady most certainly did, he wanting the opportunity to partake of "greener fields" before flying home to his old woman and the dog, He never stopped calling in his quest , the whole of Romania…simply to find someone else to sleep with for the one remaining night. Have not seen such a performance with a man since my days of Thailand, however, he did take us to lunch, more as a gesture towards Aura whom he could barely stop from touching, her long legs inches from him.
We went in a stretched limousine, to a rather smart restaurant overlooking the lake at Herastrau park, he, still on the telephone and smoking inordinately. Looked at me, looked at Aura, still having the greatest difficulty in keeping his hands off. For nothing he had already given her a most expensive piece of facial make up, Aura being Aura, immediately priced it, concluding it was about a million Lei.. Big money in Bucharest.
He smiled uncertainly, I smiled back. Aura slowly, deliberately, recrossed her legs at him.
Not too much sympathy for a man who wants a woman, but too intolerant of them basically, too full of himself, completely without any conception of the patience/kindness required.
I finaly said
"Well maybe you had better talk to Cynthia.."
The master of all ceremonies, can conjure up people out of a hat.
Rang her, asked if she could, would help a man in his desperation, tried not to let the smile come out with the words.. he needs someone to sleep with…tonight.. now, immediately, instantly.. Cynthia being Cynthia said without any hesitation .."of course".
Walked along by the lake waiting for the car, Aura and I hand in hand ,such a glorious afternoon, felt about eighteen years old.
My friend looked at us, he had hardly recovered from the fact of my age, always imagined I was the same as he.. early fifties.. Here was this old man, this ancient mariner with this quite "beautiful woman".. his remark.. strolling, totally entwined, she, quite obviously loved him, quite obviously having his interest only, quite obviously her calculator switched off.
No, there is something many other men have never learnt.. other, simple ways besides the Swiss man's $12000, my friend's $100 notes, a lap top computer and mobile phone. "The" price he is willing to pay for "love", to dispel his impatience, his urgency, his deep sense of isolation, to dispel that ultimately, he is ..we are…… alone
Quite sad, nevertheless the reality of this existence
Why Pattaya is so washed out now. All the young ladies, completely and utterly after the Big Buck and only that … the gentle kindness, the soft smile of my time out there….. gone forever.
Drifted round to Cynthia's placed of work. Lo and behold, she had come up with Lisa, nineteen years old, the age the man specified. A attractive country girl with a sharp metropolitan outlook, living, so far as I could see, entirely on her wits, a credit to her. Unfortunately it did happen to be the young lady's time of the month.. what can be said.?
He? .. he ignored this aspect of life and pressed relentlessly ever onwards, pursuing her round my apartment, such as it is, hid myself on the computer. Cyn and Aura went off somewhere, leaving him to watch her trying to clean herself up.. no limits so far as he was evidently concerned, no 'decorum' as my father would have said.
After a couple of hours he had evidently given up, she departing, smiling , no doubt having had a prize of some consideration, her little twist was to ask me, in all innocence, quite casually in front of him, when I would be available to do some nude photography of her.. She quite impressed with my collection of the past. hanging about the walls. His face rather fell at this riposte, he having to fly out, not allowed, no time to be a voyeur
The drama, far from finished, the moment Lisa wound her way down the stairs, it was phone out, ringing a lady whom he had never met, only on the Net.. she living on the Black sea, Constanta, three hours by train and it was now five p.m. After some gentle talk by our friend, never a clue as the pressure, the desperation hidden .. Yes he would meet her, a blind date at Gara De Nord railway station, 9.30.p.m. which he did, I having to accompany him, he pacing up and down the concourse, still smoking like a chimney ,now looking considerably the worse for wear, both worried and haggard.
It had been for him, a long, frustrating, very hot day. For my part, in my nakedness, had achieved quite a good colour all over, disregarding the spot of skin cancer I had picked up in Stevenage, a fall out from the Chernobyl fiasco'.
After innumerable looks at his watch he impatiently rang her on his mobile, she answered standing next to him, thought this amusing.. contact in the twenty first century.. not waiting outside the Pavilion picture house Mare street in the pouring rain .Turned out, she, a very handsome looking woman, about twenty two, all the right things in all the right places. Not had sex since her husband was killed in a car smash twelve months previous, so it turned out. Evidently my friends' persistence had paid off rather well. The lady looking naturally nervous also quite tired having just left work after a 48 hour shift at a internet café, 280 hrs a month for $62 less tax.. can't be bad???.
After the excitement and the train journey, not fully awake. In McDonalds where we all trooped, difficult for her to remain with eyelids open.. Her brother had come as a chaperone or whatever, both speaking excellent English. All three looked at each other in expectation. Decided would prefer to go home and go to bed, which I did, leaving them to it.
Midnight, thereabouts, knock at the door, they needed a cork screw. Two bottles of wine without a corkscrew. Peter being obliging which he can occasionally be … The brother, having been, no doubt, suitably reimbursed, had caught the midnight train back.
My friend and the young lady sat in the almost silent evening on the terrace, even the dogs had shut up. Stars glittered , a cool, comfortable night.
Now it had finaly come to the crunch, my man had gone almost into reverse. Now no rush to put this young lady in the huge brass bed which only creaked if people were really carried away.. wondered if it would creak later, she could hardly keep her eyes open, poor cow . Left them to it.
This morning they emerged at 9.a..m she looking rather delicious "Like a strawberry waiting to be licked" My comment to Cynthia, A very brief, almost transparent bright green dressing gown. I sufficiently impressed to somewhat surreptitiously give her our phone number.
But she was "Off" without any doubt.. obviously quite disenchanted with our man. "No thank you" to breakfast.. Simply wanting to escape, if that is the word, which she did within twenty minutes.
He smiled at the situation, attempting to bluff it out, saying, without the slightest conviction "She loves me really.". thought, "please yourself".
No sooner had she wound herself down the spiral staircase, the cab door slammed, than our man had whipped his mobile out and begging one of his local reserves to escort him to Otopeni airport. Well what can I say about that? Entertaining if you like, the man is at least human, generous. His performance, his sex drive, quite remarkable, so comparatively late in life.
He went away to his wife and dog, perhaps belatedly , perhaps somewhat sadly.. alone, with regret, leaving the lovely ladies of Romania, looking at me, my life style in the Sun, waited on like King Farouk. Knowing I was not going to go jetting off, continually checking the GSM global position finder which he carries about in his pocket and has it on the table in front of him when sitting down, possibly worried the World will move without his knowledge. Concerned, one morning, that our position in space had moved thirty metres!!
Aura, very quick thinking woman she is, asks, when my hands start to wander, asks if I need a position finder ? should she maybe buy me one for Xmas……
So he departed, ruefully, if you like, as when men leave Pattaya, leave the girls, leave other men with them ..by the pool in the iridescent sunlight, the soft laughter, the tinkle of glasses, the clatter of coffee cups, the splash of clear, warm water.
Shook my hand, climbed into the cab …..drove away, gone. Cynthia gone, I left alone in peace.
Silence, other than for the barking dogs.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Saturday, April 15, 2000……..1:25 PM.
Very hot .
If it were not for the barking dogs of Bucharest which are driving me to some distraction, peace stretches quite tight over Beller. Sit here in the Sun in great splendor, has to be better than grinding round the wretched streets in a black tin box , has to be..
My small "Verandah, a large vodka and orange, My smart garden chairs cushions, sun shade ..this must, has to be, better than Clapton Common, splendid isolation. Cynthia having toddled off to do some building work, the only woman ever known to carry about with her a hammer, screw driver, nails, around in her pockets, she most efficient in that aspect , most aspects if one takes time to consider it .
Sit here quite naked, sun beats gently down, Thailand without the drama's, demands and expense.. so what is my problem?? unable to think of any particular one at the moment, only the always present , at the back, right at the back of my mind, this urgency to finish that which I have to say ..wish to say, regarding my existence, my experience on Planet Earth, not quite going to say "What has it all been about !! " , most people poise that question at some point in their lives.. I have wondered, many times , my slight contention, conclusion, being that it has something to do with space, space probes, especially "Voyager One".
Anyway, wandering off as usual. The problem is time, time to settle the account, time running out quickly, slipping away as the tide beneath Southend Pier, insidiously, silently, leaving nothing but vast acres of black mud.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
If it were not for the barking dogs of Bucharest which are driving me to some distraction, peace stretches quite tight over Beller. Sit here in the Sun in great splendor, has to be better than grinding round the wretched streets in a black tin box , has to be..
My small "Verandah, a large vodka and orange, My smart garden chairs cushions, sun shade ..this must, has to be, better than Clapton Common, splendid isolation. Cynthia having toddled off to do some building work, the only woman ever known to carry about with her a hammer, screw driver, nails, around in her pockets, she most efficient in that aspect , most aspects if one takes time to consider it .
Sit here quite naked, sun beats gently down, Thailand without the drama's, demands and expense.. so what is my problem?? unable to think of any particular one at the moment, only the always present , at the back, right at the back of my mind, this urgency to finish that which I have to say ..wish to say, regarding my existence, my experience on Planet Earth, not quite going to say "What has it all been about !! " , most people poise that question at some point in their lives.. I have wondered, many times , my slight contention, conclusion, being that it has something to do with space, space probes, especially "Voyager One".
Anyway, wandering off as usual. The problem is time, time to settle the account, time running out quickly, slipping away as the tide beneath Southend Pier, insidiously, silently, leaving nothing but vast acres of black mud.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Same story... different context
31st. March.2000.
Time drifts on. In three days I will be 71 years old. Yesterday, had a fight with my, girlfriend aged 22, the first major one we've had…so far.
She here this morning in the brilliant Sunlight, on her knees in tears and supplication, The experience left me stressed and coughing. Shuffled up to the shops in my carpet slippers to find Cynthia , told her to deal with the situation, which she did quietly and calmly….. Only when Aura refused to leave did I become aggressive, reverting to being a "Cab Driver".. my own survival.
Aura had run true to form as other female faces in my life, had built her up, she, turned round and tried to kick me for whatever reason women have, missed and fell flat on her face, after throwing the street door keys at me as if they were a engagement ring.
This morning ….. a totally different Aura.
Not the strength to go back to her outstretched arms, gently wipe the tears away……..Something had conceivably, happened to her while I was in London, rolling round the ragged streets.. perhaps the fact her girl friend has hit the Jackpot with a Swiss gentleman in so far as he has given her $12000 in the bank and $2000 in her hand, so I am told. Same story as Thailand.. but men are stupid everywhere when it comes to buying the kaleidoscope of "love…" when it comes to between the legs.. young, hot, long, legs.
This, one does not mind, understands, but it really screws it up for the minority, the more sane, controlled characters, when others are so anxious, so eager, so in such a rush to pay so much for so few moments placation of a vague, relentless desire, need, want… To have and to hold another being, regardless of the shallow uncertainty, the perhaps coldness of the brief encounter, the escape from the daily drudgery ..the implacable wife, the demanding, remorseless children, the walking the dog, away from the house, the home… the endless repetition of nothing.
Aura, maybe, impressed.. all this indicated affluence, this sudden, incredible wealth, in her terms, obtained so easily…apparently. Simply some attentive listening required, a encouraging smile, short skirt, crossed, long legs…. This relentless urge in men, so easily exploited. This sudden realization of life, changed my simple country girl.. opened her eyes wide to distinct other possibilities.. besides nine to five… Maybe .
As said so many times..
" No man will ever know what a woman is thinking, what she is conniving"
So what is new ?? wrote the same story, almost word for word, different context in Book 1.. 30 years ago.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Time drifts on. In three days I will be 71 years old. Yesterday, had a fight with my, girlfriend aged 22, the first major one we've had…so far.
She here this morning in the brilliant Sunlight, on her knees in tears and supplication, The experience left me stressed and coughing. Shuffled up to the shops in my carpet slippers to find Cynthia , told her to deal with the situation, which she did quietly and calmly….. Only when Aura refused to leave did I become aggressive, reverting to being a "Cab Driver".. my own survival.
Aura had run true to form as other female faces in my life, had built her up, she, turned round and tried to kick me for whatever reason women have, missed and fell flat on her face, after throwing the street door keys at me as if they were a engagement ring.
This morning ….. a totally different Aura.
Not the strength to go back to her outstretched arms, gently wipe the tears away……..Something had conceivably, happened to her while I was in London, rolling round the ragged streets.. perhaps the fact her girl friend has hit the Jackpot with a Swiss gentleman in so far as he has given her $12000 in the bank and $2000 in her hand, so I am told. Same story as Thailand.. but men are stupid everywhere when it comes to buying the kaleidoscope of "love…" when it comes to between the legs.. young, hot, long, legs.
This, one does not mind, understands, but it really screws it up for the minority, the more sane, controlled characters, when others are so anxious, so eager, so in such a rush to pay so much for so few moments placation of a vague, relentless desire, need, want… To have and to hold another being, regardless of the shallow uncertainty, the perhaps coldness of the brief encounter, the escape from the daily drudgery ..the implacable wife, the demanding, remorseless children, the walking the dog, away from the house, the home… the endless repetition of nothing.
Aura, maybe, impressed.. all this indicated affluence, this sudden, incredible wealth, in her terms, obtained so easily…apparently. Simply some attentive listening required, a encouraging smile, short skirt, crossed, long legs…. This relentless urge in men, so easily exploited. This sudden realization of life, changed my simple country girl.. opened her eyes wide to distinct other possibilities.. besides nine to five… Maybe .
As said so many times..
" No man will ever know what a woman is thinking, what she is conniving"
So what is new ?? wrote the same story, almost word for word, different context in Book 1.. 30 years ago.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Bucharest, Tuesday, February 29, 2000 ….2:46 .p.m
A very warm day….. sitting here looking at the words.
Out and about this morning with Cynthia. Aura left us at the University, deciding she had better show her face, although she should have been there at eight a.m. What is her problem? Not quite realizing she is off the hook, no longer having to fear falling by the wayside. . back to the cow shed and the village, tried to impress this on her, hardly the case even before we met. Young, intelligent, attractive woman who has never failed a exam, never had any help or hand outs, having worked her way to the front via scholarships and her own efforts. The trouble, being lack of confidence and naturally, finance, her scholarship allowance being 700.000 lei a month ( $ 38) with the threat of, if failing even one exam, loosing that princely sum. No good looking to her parents, (Her mother earns less than $2 a day in the fields..12 hours….. You want to believe it. Aura's wrist is permanently damaged after wielding a scythe in the fields from dawn to dusk …….from the age of ten.)
The experience of her early existence, drained and intimidated Aura in many respects, still having to struggle, to find some occupation, even cleaning, the strain showing quite clearly that day we all inadvertently met in the rain
Rather a different person now. . having been through the Peter process.. Sir Galahad evidently still not quite dead, slightly stiff perhaps, nevertheless, with some reluctance, still charging at windmills……
Sitting here, now 3.a.m. after a long day of doing nothing, always been my time, ever since Jennifer. Used to pick up Mark the from school at 3.30.p.m. and her from Churchill's club at 3.30.a.m.
Usually ring Aura about this time if she is at her home.. has become used to me, always saying very softly, “ Oh Peter why don't you sleep!” surprised, always surprised at my ringing her, as if she does not bare consideration ... reticent … hardly the word
Out and about this morning with Cynthia. Aura left us at the University, deciding she had better show her face, although she should have been there at eight a.m. What is her problem? Not quite realizing she is off the hook, no longer having to fear falling by the wayside. . back to the cow shed and the village, tried to impress this on her, hardly the case even before we met. Young, intelligent, attractive woman who has never failed a exam, never had any help or hand outs, having worked her way to the front via scholarships and her own efforts. The trouble, being lack of confidence and naturally, finance, her scholarship allowance being 700.000 lei a month ( $ 38) with the threat of, if failing even one exam, loosing that princely sum. No good looking to her parents, (Her mother earns less than $2 a day in the fields..12 hours….. You want to believe it. Aura's wrist is permanently damaged after wielding a scythe in the fields from dawn to dusk …….from the age of ten.)
The experience of her early existence, drained and intimidated Aura in many respects, still having to struggle, to find some occupation, even cleaning, the strain showing quite clearly that day we all inadvertently met in the rain
Rather a different person now. . having been through the Peter process.. Sir Galahad evidently still not quite dead, slightly stiff perhaps, nevertheless, with some reluctance, still charging at windmills……
Sitting here, now 3.a.m. after a long day of doing nothing, always been my time, ever since Jennifer. Used to pick up Mark the from school at 3.30.p.m. and her from Churchill's club at 3.30.a.m.
Usually ring Aura about this time if she is at her home.. has become used to me, always saying very softly, “ Oh Peter why don't you sleep!” surprised, always surprised at my ringing her, as if she does not bare consideration ... reticent … hardly the word
Bucuresti Friday, January 28, 2000
Seven months have passed, hardly know where, trying to compress those seven months of thought and aggravation if you like. Certainly there has been aggravation ..there have also been some rather interesting moments at the other end of the spectrum.
August… decided we were rushed and needed someone to help. After a perhaps rapid succession of young ladies who only perceived the position as a place to unload their troubles, especially to myself when Cynthia was at work. Approached in Romana one wet and windy day by this rather wild looking young woman, obviously under pressure, desperate and quite nervous, then one would hardly expect to find someone sleek and composed looking for a housekeeping job.
Still remember the encounter .. mainly the way she clenched her hands and screwed up the furrows between her eyes .. her hair had nothing to thank the weather for. walked on ..hardly interested, so far as I was concerned, Sir Galahad slightly stiff in the limbs, his armor rusty and the horse out to graze after the battering with the AndreeA affair, Intended no more damsels in distress to be rescued …thank you very much.
Cynthia hung back chatting to her in the now pouring rain.. then she always had more patience in her little finger than I have in my whole body. She deciding the girl had some possibilities having made quite plain we were not interested in her obvious troubles…. if she were interested simply to work…….. ?
Late August, decided needed a break.. needed some sun, sea and anything else which goes with it. Asked Cynthia to telephone our not quite so tense “housekeeper “ ask if she would like to go to Costinesti for a few days, the girl quickly concurring. The look on her face realizing Cynthia was not coming with us as the train slowly left Gara De Nord, she out on the platform, waving and smiling until we curved out of sight..
Anyway.. back to reality, almost completely closed the door on England, that tiny island. Escaped from that humiliation …….. from being a foreigner in my own Country.
Today, in deep white snow, went to the Yugoslav embassy, offered a couple of copies of my comments on the Kosovo fiasco..
August… decided we were rushed and needed someone to help. After a perhaps rapid succession of young ladies who only perceived the position as a place to unload their troubles, especially to myself when Cynthia was at work. Approached in Romana one wet and windy day by this rather wild looking young woman, obviously under pressure, desperate and quite nervous, then one would hardly expect to find someone sleek and composed looking for a housekeeping job.
Still remember the encounter .. mainly the way she clenched her hands and screwed up the furrows between her eyes .. her hair had nothing to thank the weather for. walked on ..hardly interested, so far as I was concerned, Sir Galahad slightly stiff in the limbs, his armor rusty and the horse out to graze after the battering with the AndreeA affair, Intended no more damsels in distress to be rescued …thank you very much.
Cynthia hung back chatting to her in the now pouring rain.. then she always had more patience in her little finger than I have in my whole body. She deciding the girl had some possibilities having made quite plain we were not interested in her obvious troubles…. if she were interested simply to work…….. ?
Late August, decided needed a break.. needed some sun, sea and anything else which goes with it. Asked Cynthia to telephone our not quite so tense “housekeeper “ ask if she would like to go to Costinesti for a few days, the girl quickly concurring. The look on her face realizing Cynthia was not coming with us as the train slowly left Gara De Nord, she out on the platform, waving and smiling until we curved out of sight..
Anyway.. back to reality, almost completely closed the door on England, that tiny island. Escaped from that humiliation …….. from being a foreigner in my own Country.
Today, in deep white snow, went to the Yugoslav embassy, offered a couple of copies of my comments on the Kosovo fiasco..
Monday 21st June 1999. Bucuresti
Hardly feel confident about anything at the moment.. felt confident this morning, then , as usual, with the daytime passing, time passing, my confidence slowly evaporated, more so when it occurred to me that Cynthia was playing Royal Academy of Dramatic Art. with me ..crying …once I start thinking along those lines, then it is goodnight nurse.
The question is whether to start the book.. how to start it, where to start it.. the whole thing a black wall in front of me.. not good.. At this moment unable to see anywhere too start, personally feel have changed so very much over these last months, especially this morning ..woke up ..thought.. thought I would make things happen, nothing much has recently…. Now tired, not feel like anything whatsoever.. No longer have that drive, that motivation as I had with AndreeA.. with “AndreeA’s Passion” She, no force at all within me now, hardly feel there is a woman on this Planet who can inveigle me to get up off my arse and do something ..anything….which is a different scenario from two years ago.. I breathed, lived existed only for AndreeA. Whatever she wanted ..I would get it, or do it. If she wanted me to put shelves up ..demanded I put up shelves, in her arrogant way, she, adorning, complimenting, my small beautiful apartment in London… then I would put shelves up.. She would watch, silent, staring pointedly, sitting on the floor knees up, arms round, long skirt pulled down, she would watch, head slightly to one side,.. while I worked, a gentle smile of sublime satisfaction crossing her face each time I used the drill.. ……….AndreeA.
Maybe this is it, maybe these are the words which will finally finish up in print ..maybe. As previously, will be writing backwards, nothing normal.. no beginning middle and end.. as Cyntia remarked about “Normality’ in her acid manner.. “ What is Normal ? ” then she always answers a question with a question ..or if the situation is tight, refuses to answer at all. No it is impossible, my thoughts not coherent.. even erratic.. then I have always been that… the common consensus. one minute up, the next down.. so be it.. quite capable of jumping from one situation to another ..no problem at all, able to do this as my brain never really forgets anything, certainly it sometimes needs time, eventually it clicks . Fortunately I write only for myself.. hardly need a audience, so remain free from any considerations, other than my own feelings.
May as well make the attempt.. not a bad afternoon, sitting here in Bucuresti, Cynthia gone to work.. thankfully.. Blinds down, doors shut, fan going. Faintly, madmen motorcars racing up and down the street below…echoes of Clapton Common… hardly appears to be anything to stop me from starting.., just my own disinclination .. have become very lazy during this Bucuresti period.
The question is whether to start the book.. how to start it, where to start it.. the whole thing a black wall in front of me.. not good.. At this moment unable to see anywhere too start, personally feel have changed so very much over these last months, especially this morning ..woke up ..thought.. thought I would make things happen, nothing much has recently…. Now tired, not feel like anything whatsoever.. No longer have that drive, that motivation as I had with AndreeA.. with “AndreeA’s Passion” She, no force at all within me now, hardly feel there is a woman on this Planet who can inveigle me to get up off my arse and do something ..anything….which is a different scenario from two years ago.. I breathed, lived existed only for AndreeA. Whatever she wanted ..I would get it, or do it. If she wanted me to put shelves up ..demanded I put up shelves, in her arrogant way, she, adorning, complimenting, my small beautiful apartment in London… then I would put shelves up.. She would watch, silent, staring pointedly, sitting on the floor knees up, arms round, long skirt pulled down, she would watch, head slightly to one side,.. while I worked, a gentle smile of sublime satisfaction crossing her face each time I used the drill.. ……….AndreeA.
Maybe this is it, maybe these are the words which will finally finish up in print ..maybe. As previously, will be writing backwards, nothing normal.. no beginning middle and end.. as Cyntia remarked about “Normality’ in her acid manner.. “ What is Normal ? ” then she always answers a question with a question ..or if the situation is tight, refuses to answer at all. No it is impossible, my thoughts not coherent.. even erratic.. then I have always been that… the common consensus. one minute up, the next down.. so be it.. quite capable of jumping from one situation to another ..no problem at all, able to do this as my brain never really forgets anything, certainly it sometimes needs time, eventually it clicks . Fortunately I write only for myself.. hardly need a audience, so remain free from any considerations, other than my own feelings.
May as well make the attempt.. not a bad afternoon, sitting here in Bucuresti, Cynthia gone to work.. thankfully.. Blinds down, doors shut, fan going. Faintly, madmen motorcars racing up and down the street below…echoes of Clapton Common… hardly appears to be anything to stop me from starting.., just my own disinclination .. have become very lazy during this Bucuresti period.
Andreea's Demise
Never said anything because there was nothing to say, could be said. At the back of my mind the idea Andreea had a better offer from her parents, i.e. no doubt on the lines if “she gave me up, totally, completely”, they would buy her her own flat which I thought would be quite a good exchange. Have been used throughout my life in different ways by different females, thought that in this particular case she had done rather well out of me, if she has manipulated the situation, through me she could intimidate her parents into buying her an apartment, she had done extremely well. All this, in my head on our way down to the lake. I had not spoken one word since she put the telephone down, a deep impenetrable silence between us. Knew this silence, known this silence before, before Andreea was born, almost before her mother was born.
So what was there!.. there was nothing, Andreea being so astute, so clever, so devious, so illusive, so aware of the situation, so in control of the situation, so she believed.
Walked along the lakeside, a glorious, Sunny afternoon, only a few hundred yards, pointless walking anywhere. Went to walk up the path to the road, looked back, she, standing, watching me, her body silhouetted against the water, eyes filled with tears.
“Andreea”, as my mother would say “it is no use prolonging the agony” ..
The last words I spoke to Andreea.
Strolled slowly, indecisively, to the gate, a taxi came along immediately, much to my surprise. Threw the door open, did not have to push her in, automatically giving the money of course, slammed the door, as with Jennifer, as with a few other female faces, did not look back, simply walked away.
*********************************
Other, younger men, would have treated this situation perhaps shouting quite loudly, with the realisation, it may have come to blows, violence. AndreeA and I had been on the very edge… but I had been through all this before, never losing control, simply remaining tight lipped
Cynthia said nothing at my return, asleep in fact. I, completely numb in the brain box, having almost slipped down into the hole, managing to hold on to the edge.
Hardly knew what to do, knew I could not stay in, simply sit, do nothing, knew I had to go out. Woke her up, had some tea, immediately, for some reason decided to go back to the Pizza Hut were it all started, where, to put down a cliché, to lapse into romanticism, “where it all started an Eternity ago”, although it was just 24 hours previously that we had met.
So what did I want?
Came off the bus, manipulated we walked past the Hut, round the Pizza Hut, walked to the top of the metro, sat on the wall.
Peter being Peter, being highly imaginative, thinking that Andreea could conceivably come out of the metro or meet somebody else at the Pizza Hut, such is the way my mind works, it works against me all the time. Someone, years ago, once remarked I was my own worst enemy. always fantasizing, always looking, always seeking, have done it forever, looked, waited, watched, for what ? Sitting on the wall, above the metro, Cynthia non committal, Cynthia ignoring the whole situation, apparently….. which as I wrote two years ago, the woman almost a paragon. No other woman in my life has ever stood by me.. taking every step of the way.
Not until we were in bed, brain still churning over and over, trying to avoid my previous conclusion. Andreea, of course would deny any aspect of my main thought.
Have no objection to her deviousness, to her demands, arrogance, what I do seriously object to is
being treated as a fool,
advantage taken of my generosity,
my kindness interpreted as stupidity,
my love taken for granted.
So what was there!.. there was nothing, Andreea being so astute, so clever, so devious, so illusive, so aware of the situation, so in control of the situation, so she believed.
Walked along the lakeside, a glorious, Sunny afternoon, only a few hundred yards, pointless walking anywhere. Went to walk up the path to the road, looked back, she, standing, watching me, her body silhouetted against the water, eyes filled with tears.
“Andreea”, as my mother would say “it is no use prolonging the agony” ..
The last words I spoke to Andreea.
Strolled slowly, indecisively, to the gate, a taxi came along immediately, much to my surprise. Threw the door open, did not have to push her in, automatically giving the money of course, slammed the door, as with Jennifer, as with a few other female faces, did not look back, simply walked away.
*********************************
Other, younger men, would have treated this situation perhaps shouting quite loudly, with the realisation, it may have come to blows, violence. AndreeA and I had been on the very edge… but I had been through all this before, never losing control, simply remaining tight lipped
Cynthia said nothing at my return, asleep in fact. I, completely numb in the brain box, having almost slipped down into the hole, managing to hold on to the edge.
Hardly knew what to do, knew I could not stay in, simply sit, do nothing, knew I had to go out. Woke her up, had some tea, immediately, for some reason decided to go back to the Pizza Hut were it all started, where, to put down a cliché, to lapse into romanticism, “where it all started an Eternity ago”, although it was just 24 hours previously that we had met.
So what did I want?
Came off the bus, manipulated we walked past the Hut, round the Pizza Hut, walked to the top of the metro, sat on the wall.
Peter being Peter, being highly imaginative, thinking that Andreea could conceivably come out of the metro or meet somebody else at the Pizza Hut, such is the way my mind works, it works against me all the time. Someone, years ago, once remarked I was my own worst enemy. always fantasizing, always looking, always seeking, have done it forever, looked, waited, watched, for what ? Sitting on the wall, above the metro, Cynthia non committal, Cynthia ignoring the whole situation, apparently….. which as I wrote two years ago, the woman almost a paragon. No other woman in my life has ever stood by me.. taking every step of the way.
Not until we were in bed, brain still churning over and over, trying to avoid my previous conclusion. Andreea, of course would deny any aspect of my main thought.
Have no objection to her deviousness, to her demands, arrogance, what I do seriously object to is
being treated as a fool,
advantage taken of my generosity,
my kindness interpreted as stupidity,
my love taken for granted.
Andreea
Silence.
Time to be alone again, time to wait, time to consider the night just passed and the previous day, time to consider.
Went to town, went to see Lea, dragged her from her workshop. Made her sit, civilized in the arcade, at the coffee table. Time passed, bought myself a watch to watch the time passing… waiting for Andreea to ring. My thoughts too impatient, too congested, too congealed. Decided to go to Cynthia’s factory, work on her computer, to write my thoughts, to straighten my thoughts out, to see where I was.
Cynthia rushed off, to do the shopping, buy the food. Sat down, the intricacies of that particular computer, hardly believing my thoughts would flow out, into it - being so unused to such an instrument. Started writing, surprised, the words flowing in such surroundings, such strange surroundings, pleased with my own progress.
One o’clock came, already starting to shake. Two thirty, mobile rang. Oh yes, she had been out of bed midday, parents away, she could escape for an hour or so, to the manicurist, she would take a leisurely stroll towards Peter, would meet at three o’clock. Asked if she would come to the flat. Initially demurring, but I insisted. Three o’clock. Impatient. Cynthia ignored my impatience, ignored my, attitude, ignored my mood… knew my thoughts, aware in which direction my thoughts were..
She calmly prepared the steak, the food, the salad, the wine, as if, as if my mother was coming or my granny or my aunt was coming round to visit us, not my mistress. Then Cynthia has always been like that.
Too impatient to wait inside. Went out, in the distance could see this tiny figure, skirt swirling behind her, stepping very delicately along, arms at her side.
Walked towards each other. The whole length of the long street. Strangely, nobody else about, no people, no dogs, no cars. Perhaps they were there, perhaps I simply never saw them. All I had eyes for was her, stood in front of each other. All I could say was “Andreea you are incredibly beautiful!” Her reply “Thank you!”. Held hands, then we could have been alone on this planet, only when actually in the building did she let go .
Cynthia greeted her as if a daughter, “Would she like some wine?” She would like some juice. We did not have any orange juice. Andreea almost stamped her foot
“I want some orange juice! I want some juice!”
Suddenly her voice raised, assertive, arrogant.
We looked at each other, Cynthia and I, a shadow thrown by the young woman’s sharp attitude. Gave Andreea the money. “Are you going to come with me?” I said “Yes” Cynthia called out that we should buy some butter.
As so many times in my existence, always feeling there was so much to say… when it came to actually saying it, finding there was nothing to say.
Felt quite tired, the whole Andreea affair becoming extremely top heavy. On the way back she said “You know, I have to go home quite quickly, quite soon” I said “well, you have only been here for half an hour and lunch is ready”. We sat down to lunch. The upheaval she was apparently having at home had in no way affected her appetite.
Started off gently enough, after attempting to feed her with a glass of Gin and Orange…
“Perhaps you would like to explain your position, your now position to Cynthia, maybe she could throw fresh lights on the situation”. Andreea decided she did not like Gin and Orange, after sipping it, a sparrow, so I gave her an Anadin. Tears suddenly forming in her eyes again, obviously it was going to be a very long afternoon, a very difficult afternoon.
“My parents” she started, “have decided to keep me in the house, to not let me out, if I wish to go buy a cookie, I have to send my brother. I am not allowed to answer the telephone, to see my friends. I am to remove everything Peter gave me from the house, before the 1st of September. If I do not comply with these terms, they will send me to a convent”.
Cynthia looked at me, I looked at Cynthia, looked at Andreea. I said. “Well, supposing you ring them now and say you are not going to return home until eight o’clock, which is not unreasonable, as most young women are going OUT at eight o’clock.”
“No.” more tears. “I could not ring, I am frightened of them… if I go home late, then tomorrow it would be worse, the situation would be compounded. Suggested she did have rights.
“People cannot imprison you like this, legally they cannot destroy your property, take your letters and read them, taking letters is possibly a criminal offense. It is in England.. as your mother is in the Justice Department surely you have a lever on her, if you like, blackmail. If she does not stop interfering unreasonably in your life you could conceivably, quietly call the Police, the very last thing your mother, being respectable and naturally of high moral tone, would want, would be the thought of a scandal.”
Andreea looked at me, at this ploy, I looked at Cynthia.
Obviously, Andreea had other ideas. An alternative to this would be to stay here, with us now, not to go back.
“That would be no good whatsoever” very firmly, very quickly “You are going home on Tuesday, were would that leave me?”
Asked her to drink more of the Gin, she sipped, a gesture only.
“Andreea, you will have to drink more than that, you are in too much of a state, have some more mother’s ruin”.
Quite plainly, Andreea had her own ideas, ideas she was not apparently prepared to reveal to me. She knew something we did not. Her cards very close to the chest. More to this whole situation that she was to tell.
Were the parents so adamant ? Obviously they were against me.. what parents would not be. Everybody sees their point. They, having problems with their daughter, a daughter that run off to England with a strange man half a century older than herself, so far as they were concerned, their daughter had disappeared off the face of the Earth for two months. For those two months, for those fifty three days, the girl had an experience with which there will be no comparison for the rest of her life. So what were the parents really complaining about?
It was about their respectability, it was this they were concerned with, not even so much the daughter. This façade they have created had been badly damaged.
Again I asked myself, what was the real story… the truth.. what was that?! Any other girl you would expect under such extreme pressure, would have jumped at the opportunity to escape. If she felt as she said she felt about me, what was her problem? If she was in such a terrible turmoil in her own home, if she was threatened as she said she was threatened, cajoled, abused, treated as a prisoner… the situation starting to slightly smell in my nostrils.. this started to sound like a very elaborate story coming from a sobbing Thai young lady, and I knew all their stories. Invariably the sobbing was stopped by placing the right amount of money in their tiny, so delicate, soft hands.
Certain there was a piece missing, a big piece missing. I could not think what that piece might be.
Took a breath, again started quietly.
“What your parents require is that you go out and find a man, any man other than myself, Romanian, one who preferably has a Mercedes, a house, all the accouterments, five, six, seven hundred dollars a week, one who could look after you in the manner you are accustomed to be looked after, one who will treat you as you wish to be treated, to cater for you every whim, every desire, your every fancy, your every need. Of course, you have the qualifications, the attributes, you are highly intelligent, beautiful, nothing at all wrong with you, you are, in my eyes, an almost perfect woman, other to the fact that you and your parents have placed a very high price upon your being”.
Whether or not I said those last few words I do not know, but if I did not say them she knew what I was getting at. Put the mobile phone in her hand. She threw it down. I said “You are going to have to ring them. If you do not ring them now, you are going to be a prisoner for the rest of your life”… starting to push it.. “You have to escape now! .. this moment! this Saturday afternoon, at five o’clock, you have to ring your parents now.”
Suddenly she rushed out into the other room. I said to Cynthia “You better go and see if you could sort her out”. Cynthia came back after about ten minutes “I cannot do a thing with her, you better go”.. went in. Andreea lying on the floor, knees up, head down, sobbing. Found her handbag, her shoes, put them beside her.
“Andreea, I cannot do any more, anything more for you.. have tried, do not wish to be Sir Galahad again. I have been Sir Galahad too many times, too many damsels in distress. There is more than you are willing to tell me and I am tired”.
She picked up the phone, a decision, rang the house, her brother answered. Her parents would be home within the hour, she crying openly now. Tearfully. She said “We have one hour. I would like to walk by the lake.
Time to be alone again, time to wait, time to consider the night just passed and the previous day, time to consider.
Went to town, went to see Lea, dragged her from her workshop. Made her sit, civilized in the arcade, at the coffee table. Time passed, bought myself a watch to watch the time passing… waiting for Andreea to ring. My thoughts too impatient, too congested, too congealed. Decided to go to Cynthia’s factory, work on her computer, to write my thoughts, to straighten my thoughts out, to see where I was.
Cynthia rushed off, to do the shopping, buy the food. Sat down, the intricacies of that particular computer, hardly believing my thoughts would flow out, into it - being so unused to such an instrument. Started writing, surprised, the words flowing in such surroundings, such strange surroundings, pleased with my own progress.
One o’clock came, already starting to shake. Two thirty, mobile rang. Oh yes, she had been out of bed midday, parents away, she could escape for an hour or so, to the manicurist, she would take a leisurely stroll towards Peter, would meet at three o’clock. Asked if she would come to the flat. Initially demurring, but I insisted. Three o’clock. Impatient. Cynthia ignored my impatience, ignored my, attitude, ignored my mood… knew my thoughts, aware in which direction my thoughts were..
She calmly prepared the steak, the food, the salad, the wine, as if, as if my mother was coming or my granny or my aunt was coming round to visit us, not my mistress. Then Cynthia has always been like that.
Too impatient to wait inside. Went out, in the distance could see this tiny figure, skirt swirling behind her, stepping very delicately along, arms at her side.
Walked towards each other. The whole length of the long street. Strangely, nobody else about, no people, no dogs, no cars. Perhaps they were there, perhaps I simply never saw them. All I had eyes for was her, stood in front of each other. All I could say was “Andreea you are incredibly beautiful!” Her reply “Thank you!”. Held hands, then we could have been alone on this planet, only when actually in the building did she let go .
Cynthia greeted her as if a daughter, “Would she like some wine?” She would like some juice. We did not have any orange juice. Andreea almost stamped her foot
“I want some orange juice! I want some juice!”
Suddenly her voice raised, assertive, arrogant.
We looked at each other, Cynthia and I, a shadow thrown by the young woman’s sharp attitude. Gave Andreea the money. “Are you going to come with me?” I said “Yes” Cynthia called out that we should buy some butter.
As so many times in my existence, always feeling there was so much to say… when it came to actually saying it, finding there was nothing to say.
Felt quite tired, the whole Andreea affair becoming extremely top heavy. On the way back she said “You know, I have to go home quite quickly, quite soon” I said “well, you have only been here for half an hour and lunch is ready”. We sat down to lunch. The upheaval she was apparently having at home had in no way affected her appetite.
Started off gently enough, after attempting to feed her with a glass of Gin and Orange…
“Perhaps you would like to explain your position, your now position to Cynthia, maybe she could throw fresh lights on the situation”. Andreea decided she did not like Gin and Orange, after sipping it, a sparrow, so I gave her an Anadin. Tears suddenly forming in her eyes again, obviously it was going to be a very long afternoon, a very difficult afternoon.
“My parents” she started, “have decided to keep me in the house, to not let me out, if I wish to go buy a cookie, I have to send my brother. I am not allowed to answer the telephone, to see my friends. I am to remove everything Peter gave me from the house, before the 1st of September. If I do not comply with these terms, they will send me to a convent”.
Cynthia looked at me, I looked at Cynthia, looked at Andreea. I said. “Well, supposing you ring them now and say you are not going to return home until eight o’clock, which is not unreasonable, as most young women are going OUT at eight o’clock.”
“No.” more tears. “I could not ring, I am frightened of them… if I go home late, then tomorrow it would be worse, the situation would be compounded. Suggested she did have rights.
“People cannot imprison you like this, legally they cannot destroy your property, take your letters and read them, taking letters is possibly a criminal offense. It is in England.. as your mother is in the Justice Department surely you have a lever on her, if you like, blackmail. If she does not stop interfering unreasonably in your life you could conceivably, quietly call the Police, the very last thing your mother, being respectable and naturally of high moral tone, would want, would be the thought of a scandal.”
Andreea looked at me, at this ploy, I looked at Cynthia.
Obviously, Andreea had other ideas. An alternative to this would be to stay here, with us now, not to go back.
“That would be no good whatsoever” very firmly, very quickly “You are going home on Tuesday, were would that leave me?”
Asked her to drink more of the Gin, she sipped, a gesture only.
“Andreea, you will have to drink more than that, you are in too much of a state, have some more mother’s ruin”.
Quite plainly, Andreea had her own ideas, ideas she was not apparently prepared to reveal to me. She knew something we did not. Her cards very close to the chest. More to this whole situation that she was to tell.
Were the parents so adamant ? Obviously they were against me.. what parents would not be. Everybody sees their point. They, having problems with their daughter, a daughter that run off to England with a strange man half a century older than herself, so far as they were concerned, their daughter had disappeared off the face of the Earth for two months. For those two months, for those fifty three days, the girl had an experience with which there will be no comparison for the rest of her life. So what were the parents really complaining about?
It was about their respectability, it was this they were concerned with, not even so much the daughter. This façade they have created had been badly damaged.
Again I asked myself, what was the real story… the truth.. what was that?! Any other girl you would expect under such extreme pressure, would have jumped at the opportunity to escape. If she felt as she said she felt about me, what was her problem? If she was in such a terrible turmoil in her own home, if she was threatened as she said she was threatened, cajoled, abused, treated as a prisoner… the situation starting to slightly smell in my nostrils.. this started to sound like a very elaborate story coming from a sobbing Thai young lady, and I knew all their stories. Invariably the sobbing was stopped by placing the right amount of money in their tiny, so delicate, soft hands.
Certain there was a piece missing, a big piece missing. I could not think what that piece might be.
Took a breath, again started quietly.
“What your parents require is that you go out and find a man, any man other than myself, Romanian, one who preferably has a Mercedes, a house, all the accouterments, five, six, seven hundred dollars a week, one who could look after you in the manner you are accustomed to be looked after, one who will treat you as you wish to be treated, to cater for you every whim, every desire, your every fancy, your every need. Of course, you have the qualifications, the attributes, you are highly intelligent, beautiful, nothing at all wrong with you, you are, in my eyes, an almost perfect woman, other to the fact that you and your parents have placed a very high price upon your being”.
Whether or not I said those last few words I do not know, but if I did not say them she knew what I was getting at. Put the mobile phone in her hand. She threw it down. I said “You are going to have to ring them. If you do not ring them now, you are going to be a prisoner for the rest of your life”… starting to push it.. “You have to escape now! .. this moment! this Saturday afternoon, at five o’clock, you have to ring your parents now.”
Suddenly she rushed out into the other room. I said to Cynthia “You better go and see if you could sort her out”. Cynthia came back after about ten minutes “I cannot do a thing with her, you better go”.. went in. Andreea lying on the floor, knees up, head down, sobbing. Found her handbag, her shoes, put them beside her.
“Andreea, I cannot do any more, anything more for you.. have tried, do not wish to be Sir Galahad again. I have been Sir Galahad too many times, too many damsels in distress. There is more than you are willing to tell me and I am tired”.
She picked up the phone, a decision, rang the house, her brother answered. Her parents would be home within the hour, she crying openly now. Tearfully. She said “We have one hour. I would like to walk by the lake.
The Soprano
Door bell suddenly ringing, ringing, after about fifteen minutes, did not take much vibration, did not take much to realize it was Raluca, could feel her intensity, her impatience through the walls, through the flat. Door burst open, she burst in, singing at the top of her voice. Evidently, so they say, she is going to be one of the World’s best, so they say and she was not going to let anybody to forget it, not at this present moment.
She had grown, quite, shall we say, large, since I had last seen her. If she was going to be a Soprano, well then, her figure matched. Almost impossible to suppress her. Refused to stop singing, not singing quietly, singing as if she were in the Albert Hall, her voice would easy fill the Albert Hall, easily, without any effort on her part. Unsuppressed, unsuppressable, unstoppable.. Andreea’s soft voice, her soft tears, the tears, the soft tears in her brown eyes, swept away. Everything is swept away in front of Raluca.
Suddenly she required feeding.. told her she needed a bath, soaked in sweat. Refused the bath, becoming almost a hypochondriac, demanded Anadin tablets, demanded to be kept out of the draft, demanded full stop. Petrified of catching a cold before her examination, the final examination.
No room to think other than of Raluca. We trooped into SpringTime where she ordered quite large quantities of food which she devoured very quickly, quickly indeed.
In the flat she and Cynthia retired to the bath. Watched television, waited. Both appeared back, laughing, naked, falling about, falling into bed. Television switched off. Raluca needed to be brought on quickly, to have her period before the exam. Peter did his best to satisfy this requirement.
Evidently, singers believe if they perform during their period, they sing flat. Raluca did not wish to sing flat. She, never very demonstrative in bed, not during the act - apparently quite satisfied with my efforts, fell asleep.
Awakened at dawn, in the dawn light both Cynthia and Raluca making more demands. thought, “No one is going to believe this.”
Suddenly Raluca energized again. Time to go, time to throw the clothes on, time to go into her orbit once more. A mad rush, telephone the taxi, taxi whisking her quickly away.
She had grown, quite, shall we say, large, since I had last seen her. If she was going to be a Soprano, well then, her figure matched. Almost impossible to suppress her. Refused to stop singing, not singing quietly, singing as if she were in the Albert Hall, her voice would easy fill the Albert Hall, easily, without any effort on her part. Unsuppressed, unsuppressable, unstoppable.. Andreea’s soft voice, her soft tears, the tears, the soft tears in her brown eyes, swept away. Everything is swept away in front of Raluca.
Suddenly she required feeding.. told her she needed a bath, soaked in sweat. Refused the bath, becoming almost a hypochondriac, demanded Anadin tablets, demanded to be kept out of the draft, demanded full stop. Petrified of catching a cold before her examination, the final examination.
No room to think other than of Raluca. We trooped into SpringTime where she ordered quite large quantities of food which she devoured very quickly, quickly indeed.
In the flat she and Cynthia retired to the bath. Watched television, waited. Both appeared back, laughing, naked, falling about, falling into bed. Television switched off. Raluca needed to be brought on quickly, to have her period before the exam. Peter did his best to satisfy this requirement.
Evidently, singers believe if they perform during their period, they sing flat. Raluca did not wish to sing flat. She, never very demonstrative in bed, not during the act - apparently quite satisfied with my efforts, fell asleep.
Awakened at dawn, in the dawn light both Cynthia and Raluca making more demands. thought, “No one is going to believe this.”
Suddenly Raluca energized again. Time to go, time to throw the clothes on, time to go into her orbit once more. A mad rush, telephone the taxi, taxi whisking her quickly away.
August. 21st; 1997. Bucuresti
Andreea’s Passion .
Not too sure about Andreea and the meeting … what would happen after time had elapsed, letters unanswered, hardly expected her, had believed she was in Greece with her parents. Waited.. as instructed by her on the phone.. to meet outside the Pizza Hut, waited opposite, almost obscured by the distraught traffic. Few minutes before one p.m. started to shake, wondering what had been her reaction to my perhaps scathing letters, why after those missiles, she had decided to meet me.
She came, strolling along finally, a slight arrogance, white high heeled shoes I had bought her in England, long skirt to her ankles, sleeveless blouse, dark glasses, hair to her waist.
Never directly approached, walked parallel, waiting for her to look other than directly in front.. all this oblivious to the traffic which, by now, seriously attempting to run me over.
No animosity on her face when our eyes finally met, more a question mark, more of “why had I not written?… why had I ignored her?”
We sat, the waitress, rather too friendly for the occasion, for the problems I believed I was about to be confronted with, unable to quite understand why Andreea was so calm so affable, so Andreea.
Hardly knew how to start the conversation… the conversation two people have … the conversation only for two people, the conversation, meaningless to any other person on the Planet.
“Why haven’t you written to me” She started, … half indignant.
The waitress interrupted precisely at this point, giving time to consider her remark.. what had happened to the letters she had not received, totally relieved at this twist of fate.
Suggested, as had done previously, that her mother was the recipient of my mail … then the idea had been blown away indignantly, “Our family is not like that” .. evidently it was.. I am hardly ever wrong. How her private case had been broken into, how all the perhaps erotic photographs of her had been torn, how she had found, pieces of my distinctive envelopes.
The last two days the mother had revealed everything to the father, how the father had howled at her, both parents jointly demanding she gave up the “old man’ immediately, to destroy everything he had given her. How she would no longer be allowed out of the house other than to go to the university. How, if she did not submit to their demands she would be sent to a nunnery.
Drank my coke, at this final remark, amazed, a sense of unreality .. was this really 1997 ? or perhaps a time warp .. really back in the Middle Ages.. she, nevertheless eating her pizza with delicacy, not having lost her appetite, disregarding the total chaos of her now existence.
Cautiously, again asked “so you did not receive my letter and the page from my diary .. plus the very large photograph with slightly uncompromising captions.
“No” no, she had not received anything .. had received only the photos from my June trip.. she and Cynthia bathing in the lake,..wife and mistress drifting off across the wide water in the evening sunlight… knew they would make for the distant opposite shore, both so relaxed, voices concise, clear.. knew they would take the opportunity to weigh their respective positions.
Watched, as they sat languidly on the far shore in the soft light, nothing across there to disturb them, their words.. their gently confrontation.
Wished I could have heard one syllable .. could only watch.
Waited for what seemed an interminable time .. darkness starting to creep across the clear water, waited for them to start the long swim back .. they arrived quite calm, not at all breathless, still talking quietly to each other.. had hardly expected any different.. they, rather much in common.. the fact, one could have been the other’s mother……..
Pleased at this turn up.. that Andreea had been spared all my confusion.. my disbelief at all of her, what I considered, small stories, as to why she had to rush home in the early evening.. to the extent of actually following her in another taxi, feeling on that occasion she was off on an assignation… subdued when she went straight into her flat and never came out ..not for the two hours I stood there anyway!
Tried not to think of Andreea’s mothers reaction to my so personal pages to her daughter.. without doubt, even cooled through a translator, the pages would have burnt into her brain once / if realising the depths Andreea and I reached.
Stood up, looked for the waitress, paid her, paid her over the top, grateful for the interruptions..
AndreeA cautious about where to go next, did not want to go to the flat, wanted to go to the lake she decided.
Getting into the taxi there were three young, thick, Romanian hooligans glaring and gloating, looking at her. Not quite able to understand what she was doing with me… the question mark poised in their stupidity.
Went down the familiar park, to the lake, Deliberately, she walked on the edge, away from the long grass where I might put her to the ground, my body over hers, this quite obviously she did not want, quite obviously she preferred to keep me at distance for her own reasons.
Waited, waited all my life, so I could wait a little longer, waited to see what she would do, what she would say, what would happen next. We sat, looked about waiting for people to congregate about me, as people always do. She, long skirt pulled down, knees up, arms around.
Became impatient, time passed, she had to rush home, half past four in a Friday afternoon she “had to go home”, so she said, so I was supposed to believe, a prisoner in her own home.
Looked for a taxi, no taxi appeared… walked almost to Dorobanti Market before we found one. Gave her the money, door banged, she driven away. Would ring, she would ring at two o’clock. on Saturday. Taking into account that she never left the bed until midday at the least…
Just a slight sense of emptiness when she was gone, then there always is, Used to my own company, used to my own isolation,… nothing, just the usual hole, had tried to explain to her about the hole, the really big hole I have to negotiate my life about, careful not to fall in.. first discovered this with Susan.
Went for a manicure and a pedicure. Having a manicure interested Andreea, a man caring about his nails!…
Said to the woman, she, massaging my foot - ‘better than sex” She laughed.
From there, drifted down to the factory, Cynthia doesn’t finish work until eight o’clock at night. As always, as ever, energetic, smiling, knew where I had been, disregarding it completely. She rushed about. Decided to go back to my bed, the bed I had in London, which I had to store for a year because it wouldn’t fit in my new flat, the bed, the green bed without the twirling tentacles of my plan…
Not too sure about Andreea and the meeting … what would happen after time had elapsed, letters unanswered, hardly expected her, had believed she was in Greece with her parents. Waited.. as instructed by her on the phone.. to meet outside the Pizza Hut, waited opposite, almost obscured by the distraught traffic. Few minutes before one p.m. started to shake, wondering what had been her reaction to my perhaps scathing letters, why after those missiles, she had decided to meet me.
She came, strolling along finally, a slight arrogance, white high heeled shoes I had bought her in England, long skirt to her ankles, sleeveless blouse, dark glasses, hair to her waist.
Never directly approached, walked parallel, waiting for her to look other than directly in front.. all this oblivious to the traffic which, by now, seriously attempting to run me over.
No animosity on her face when our eyes finally met, more a question mark, more of “why had I not written?… why had I ignored her?”
We sat, the waitress, rather too friendly for the occasion, for the problems I believed I was about to be confronted with, unable to quite understand why Andreea was so calm so affable, so Andreea.
Hardly knew how to start the conversation… the conversation two people have … the conversation only for two people, the conversation, meaningless to any other person on the Planet.
“Why haven’t you written to me” She started, … half indignant.
The waitress interrupted precisely at this point, giving time to consider her remark.. what had happened to the letters she had not received, totally relieved at this twist of fate.
Suggested, as had done previously, that her mother was the recipient of my mail … then the idea had been blown away indignantly, “Our family is not like that” .. evidently it was.. I am hardly ever wrong. How her private case had been broken into, how all the perhaps erotic photographs of her had been torn, how she had found, pieces of my distinctive envelopes.
The last two days the mother had revealed everything to the father, how the father had howled at her, both parents jointly demanding she gave up the “old man’ immediately, to destroy everything he had given her. How she would no longer be allowed out of the house other than to go to the university. How, if she did not submit to their demands she would be sent to a nunnery.
Drank my coke, at this final remark, amazed, a sense of unreality .. was this really 1997 ? or perhaps a time warp .. really back in the Middle Ages.. she, nevertheless eating her pizza with delicacy, not having lost her appetite, disregarding the total chaos of her now existence.
Cautiously, again asked “so you did not receive my letter and the page from my diary .. plus the very large photograph with slightly uncompromising captions.
“No” no, she had not received anything .. had received only the photos from my June trip.. she and Cynthia bathing in the lake,..wife and mistress drifting off across the wide water in the evening sunlight… knew they would make for the distant opposite shore, both so relaxed, voices concise, clear.. knew they would take the opportunity to weigh their respective positions.
Watched, as they sat languidly on the far shore in the soft light, nothing across there to disturb them, their words.. their gently confrontation.
Wished I could have heard one syllable .. could only watch.
Waited for what seemed an interminable time .. darkness starting to creep across the clear water, waited for them to start the long swim back .. they arrived quite calm, not at all breathless, still talking quietly to each other.. had hardly expected any different.. they, rather much in common.. the fact, one could have been the other’s mother……..
Pleased at this turn up.. that Andreea had been spared all my confusion.. my disbelief at all of her, what I considered, small stories, as to why she had to rush home in the early evening.. to the extent of actually following her in another taxi, feeling on that occasion she was off on an assignation… subdued when she went straight into her flat and never came out ..not for the two hours I stood there anyway!
Tried not to think of Andreea’s mothers reaction to my so personal pages to her daughter.. without doubt, even cooled through a translator, the pages would have burnt into her brain once / if realising the depths Andreea and I reached.
Stood up, looked for the waitress, paid her, paid her over the top, grateful for the interruptions..
AndreeA cautious about where to go next, did not want to go to the flat, wanted to go to the lake she decided.
Getting into the taxi there were three young, thick, Romanian hooligans glaring and gloating, looking at her. Not quite able to understand what she was doing with me… the question mark poised in their stupidity.
Went down the familiar park, to the lake, Deliberately, she walked on the edge, away from the long grass where I might put her to the ground, my body over hers, this quite obviously she did not want, quite obviously she preferred to keep me at distance for her own reasons.
Waited, waited all my life, so I could wait a little longer, waited to see what she would do, what she would say, what would happen next. We sat, looked about waiting for people to congregate about me, as people always do. She, long skirt pulled down, knees up, arms around.
Became impatient, time passed, she had to rush home, half past four in a Friday afternoon she “had to go home”, so she said, so I was supposed to believe, a prisoner in her own home.
Looked for a taxi, no taxi appeared… walked almost to Dorobanti Market before we found one. Gave her the money, door banged, she driven away. Would ring, she would ring at two o’clock. on Saturday. Taking into account that she never left the bed until midday at the least…
Just a slight sense of emptiness when she was gone, then there always is, Used to my own company, used to my own isolation,… nothing, just the usual hole, had tried to explain to her about the hole, the really big hole I have to negotiate my life about, careful not to fall in.. first discovered this with Susan.
Went for a manicure and a pedicure. Having a manicure interested Andreea, a man caring about his nails!…
Said to the woman, she, massaging my foot - ‘better than sex” She laughed.
From there, drifted down to the factory, Cynthia doesn’t finish work until eight o’clock at night. As always, as ever, energetic, smiling, knew where I had been, disregarding it completely. She rushed about. Decided to go back to my bed, the bed I had in London, which I had to store for a year because it wouldn’t fit in my new flat, the bed, the green bed without the twirling tentacles of my plan…
Hackney to Hilton
Still, have it on internet.. this quite satisfied with… wondering where the words will reach. Cynthia maintains I never have wanted to sell it, always slightly dubious as to which way other people, strangers, will manipulate it to other ends. As it is, can sit here in Bucuresti and take a long look at England, never able to accept that which successive governments forced upon us, unable, unwilling to accept that I ….
“Must learn to live with Black People”
England, an island now consider having lost itself, this irreparable damage, all within the last fifty years, its cohesion, culture, seriously threatened. Someone remarking, rather lucidly,
“England has a identity crisis.” … Ancient English Kings turning in their graves .
My solution, for the declining, politically correct, rigidly controlled, by hard, hatchet faced, feminists, the “Head in the Sand” attitude of a weakened, floundering, matriarch England… a land of “spin doctors “..whatever this may mean, imply. A strange, weird, “Minister Without Portfolio” with quite apparent unlimited power, used from the shadows. No, my only possible solution, is to leave .. never able to come to terms with the underlying reality.. the underlying apprehension …
………. the fear .
“Why is it that no one has stood up and spoken out against this drift ?” .
Aware one or two people have ‘dared’ …only to be pulled down, shouted down .. indeed, mostly by the ferocious howls of ‘racist’ from black faced members of The English Parliament who so clearly see the inherent threat to their , perhaps tenuous position….. So be it
Sit here and smile, thank Mrs. Thatcher.. Dear God, thank her for giving me the opportunity to escape, although she did not quite see it like that.. assumed I would buy my council flat, which I did and vote Tory, which I did not.. never having been guilty of voting, only in this present case, sitting here, looking out, my wide view encompassing the rather better part of Bucuresti.. the Athenaeum.. The Hilton Hotel..
Once wrote, back in darkest Hackney
“Hackney to the Hilton Hotel ?..one million miles.!!.”
Have lived to travel that distance.
Yes, I voted …with both feet.
Not imperative to have read book one, although this rests firmly on it.
As with that volume, there is not a beginning, middle end, rather a kalaidascope of time, people and places.
Thought I would have more to say about this so long projected start, the final count down, my long flight from Hackney, from Clapton Common.. a nightmare ago.
Even now, Hackney beckons, whispers, its open, running sores of seething humanity still quite vivid in my mind.
The “Swan” opposite, as on so many other Friday nights, all 1,642 of them, …..10.45 p.m. the establishment fully wound up.. hot, beat of heavy sounds, fresh from the jungle.
Loud, occasionall shreiks reaching from the street below, girls, unable to contain their orgasms any longer.
********************************************
“Must learn to live with Black People”
England, an island now consider having lost itself, this irreparable damage, all within the last fifty years, its cohesion, culture, seriously threatened. Someone remarking, rather lucidly,
“England has a identity crisis.” … Ancient English Kings turning in their graves .
My solution, for the declining, politically correct, rigidly controlled, by hard, hatchet faced, feminists, the “Head in the Sand” attitude of a weakened, floundering, matriarch England… a land of “spin doctors “..whatever this may mean, imply. A strange, weird, “Minister Without Portfolio” with quite apparent unlimited power, used from the shadows. No, my only possible solution, is to leave .. never able to come to terms with the underlying reality.. the underlying apprehension …
………. the fear .
“Why is it that no one has stood up and spoken out against this drift ?” .
Aware one or two people have ‘dared’ …only to be pulled down, shouted down .. indeed, mostly by the ferocious howls of ‘racist’ from black faced members of The English Parliament who so clearly see the inherent threat to their , perhaps tenuous position….. So be it
Sit here and smile, thank Mrs. Thatcher.. Dear God, thank her for giving me the opportunity to escape, although she did not quite see it like that.. assumed I would buy my council flat, which I did and vote Tory, which I did not.. never having been guilty of voting, only in this present case, sitting here, looking out, my wide view encompassing the rather better part of Bucuresti.. the Athenaeum.. The Hilton Hotel..
Once wrote, back in darkest Hackney
“Hackney to the Hilton Hotel ?..one million miles.!!.”
Have lived to travel that distance.
Yes, I voted …with both feet.
Not imperative to have read book one, although this rests firmly on it.
As with that volume, there is not a beginning, middle end, rather a kalaidascope of time, people and places.
Thought I would have more to say about this so long projected start, the final count down, my long flight from Hackney, from Clapton Common.. a nightmare ago.
Even now, Hackney beckons, whispers, its open, running sores of seething humanity still quite vivid in my mind.
The “Swan” opposite, as on so many other Friday nights, all 1,642 of them, …..10.45 p.m. the establishment fully wound up.. hot, beat of heavy sounds, fresh from the jungle.
Loud, occasionall shreiks reaching from the street below, girls, unable to contain their orgasms any longer.
********************************************
January 1996
Sit here now, four o'clock, a warm, wet January morning, alone as always, as ever. A certain sadness engulfs me, so many female faces strewn across my life. Without exception, all demanded the intangible. All demanded more than I have ever been capable of giving, without exception, none ever gave me anything or offered anything in return, other than the obvious, maybe, even this, a reluctance. Cynthia certainly raised my hopes, anticipating, apparently, my every thought, my every move, never able to do enough for me, but she, unable to sustain the fabrication, inevitably crashing out under the pressure. My refusal to be as other men ... my lack of acquiescence. I had warned her, she knew this manuscript off by heart, never really wanted to listen ... too intent on her own objectives. The 'Marriage' had lasted Eight Weeks, twenty days altogether***.
Find myself looking towards Pattaya once more ... Never been very far from my mind, although knowing every facet, every crack in the pavement, every smell on the street ... The exotic bird singing to me each morning in the clear azure warm skies ... The small bunch of bright flowers each morning, my offering to Buddha.
Right at the very back of all this present turmoil, always, perhaps, have the notion of one day, may pack my bits and pieces... disappear, lose myself in the obscurity, mystery, of Thailand.
***or so I thought then... It's now 2010. Cyn still here with me.
Find myself looking towards Pattaya once more ... Never been very far from my mind, although knowing every facet, every crack in the pavement, every smell on the street ... The exotic bird singing to me each morning in the clear azure warm skies ... The small bunch of bright flowers each morning, my offering to Buddha.
Right at the very back of all this present turmoil, always, perhaps, have the notion of one day, may pack my bits and pieces... disappear, lose myself in the obscurity, mystery, of Thailand.
***or so I thought then... It's now 2010. Cyn still here with me.
The Candle Lit Wedding
The morning finally arrived, "The" morning, so far as Cynthia was concerned, the one she had waited through all past eternity for.
A great deal of activity... in Protopopescu Str. No 9. Not allowed to see bride.. people rushing in every direction.. not quite Harrods on a Friday evening.
My sister, a couple of Cynthia's children, myself, bundled in a Taxi to the Church.. still snowing.
Commotion at the church.. Evidently was or had been a funeral in progress.. A great deal of shouting and consternation ..definitely the bride to be allowed no where near .. had to wait when she finally did arrive with her entourage, wait a hundred yards away, outside the gates.. in the soft snow... while the dead were, to the accompaniment of loud claxons and wailing, slowly carted off.
Noticed a huge Pink monster slowly come to a halt beyond the distant gates. At first thinking an advertising hoard on wheels.. Then realised it was "The Tram" such a splendid thing, a resurrection, complete with Balloons and "Just Married".. in English.. fluttering all over it.
No further time, a crowd slowly walking down the long path towards the Church, Cynthia in full flowing bridal dress, not her Grandmothers this time, flanked by her sister and a young boy, each carrying the most enormous candle I had ever seen, the candles wreathed in bright flowers.. For a moment wondered if in the right department. Bernie's wedding in Northern Thailand had not been anything like .. such splendour, surely, could not have anything to do with me.. Cynthia looked so different.
From no where I had hit the front.. everyone pushing me forward whispering the S.P.. to approach Cynthia and kiss her...such a crush ..so many people...
Obviously, on my travels had slipped, fallen into another time, another dimension, unlike anything ever previously known.
Could never visualise my kissing any woman in public.. or at all.. Here in this surrealism.. Fallen into a white Hole, a dream, a white dream, everything a flowing white. Could see my sister ..smiling, a face amongst all the other white faces.. Slowly pushed inside the dark Church, an atmosphere like those I had the temerity to visit on previous occasions. in my other life... a candle lit, incense laden, heaviness.. Carmen.. Naples, the tiny, silent, deserted Church, hidden in the crevices of Capri.. not the stiff formalism attached to the English version of Christianity.
A choir, somewhere singing as if their lives depended upon it.
The priest, Father, whatever, obviously enjoying himself in his Golden robes, placed a crown upon Cynthia's head and mine.. quite definitely asleep.. nevertheless, after a hour of Kissing Cynthia, kissing the walls, kissing the books, Crossing myself, drinking wine from the proffered cup.. really wanted to go home, to my Yellow room with the Green tendrils entwined about me, could see Doris reading my thoughts.. her face agitated.
Had not the power to walk away from that situation, so remote, so unreal...
So far from Hackney.
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A great deal of activity... in Protopopescu Str. No 9. Not allowed to see bride.. people rushing in every direction.. not quite Harrods on a Friday evening.
My sister, a couple of Cynthia's children, myself, bundled in a Taxi to the Church.. still snowing.
Commotion at the church.. Evidently was or had been a funeral in progress.. A great deal of shouting and consternation ..definitely the bride to be allowed no where near .. had to wait when she finally did arrive with her entourage, wait a hundred yards away, outside the gates.. in the soft snow... while the dead were, to the accompaniment of loud claxons and wailing, slowly carted off.
Noticed a huge Pink monster slowly come to a halt beyond the distant gates. At first thinking an advertising hoard on wheels.. Then realised it was "The Tram" such a splendid thing, a resurrection, complete with Balloons and "Just Married".. in English.. fluttering all over it.
No further time, a crowd slowly walking down the long path towards the Church, Cynthia in full flowing bridal dress, not her Grandmothers this time, flanked by her sister and a young boy, each carrying the most enormous candle I had ever seen, the candles wreathed in bright flowers.. For a moment wondered if in the right department. Bernie's wedding in Northern Thailand had not been anything like .. such splendour, surely, could not have anything to do with me.. Cynthia looked so different.
From no where I had hit the front.. everyone pushing me forward whispering the S.P.. to approach Cynthia and kiss her...such a crush ..so many people...
Obviously, on my travels had slipped, fallen into another time, another dimension, unlike anything ever previously known.
Could never visualise my kissing any woman in public.. or at all.. Here in this surrealism.. Fallen into a white Hole, a dream, a white dream, everything a flowing white. Could see my sister ..smiling, a face amongst all the other white faces.. Slowly pushed inside the dark Church, an atmosphere like those I had the temerity to visit on previous occasions. in my other life... a candle lit, incense laden, heaviness.. Carmen.. Naples, the tiny, silent, deserted Church, hidden in the crevices of Capri.. not the stiff formalism attached to the English version of Christianity.
A choir, somewhere singing as if their lives depended upon it.
The priest, Father, whatever, obviously enjoying himself in his Golden robes, placed a crown upon Cynthia's head and mine.. quite definitely asleep.. nevertheless, after a hour of Kissing Cynthia, kissing the walls, kissing the books, Crossing myself, drinking wine from the proffered cup.. really wanted to go home, to my Yellow room with the Green tendrils entwined about me, could see Doris reading my thoughts.. her face agitated.
Had not the power to walk away from that situation, so remote, so unreal...
So far from Hackney.
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