Regarding writing and books, long given up any thoughts of having this long diatribe “published” ..in the old terms..
When I first started writing, maybe thirty years ago, publishers were people who were treated with respect, as with the police, doctors, so many other institutions, most institutions are now a subject of mockery, when the Metropolitan police pay a black man $800 a day to “Teach” them how to behave towards the so called “minorities: then respect starts to cave in.. Respect…. a word which is no longer in the English heritage, as so many others. ………….Bravery, distinctly out.
Only very recently was a farmer jailed for life for shooting and wounding only, a persistent burglar. Insult to injury, this same criminal sits on the board deciding the farmer’s fate……… Alice in wonderland !!
Consideration, initiative, honor, such words no longer politically correct. Within fifty years, the country has changed beyond recognition, the past swept away faster than the rest of history put together, people themselves have changed.. the people today who attempt to recreate the past .. even just so far back as the war, fail, because they have had no experience, no conception of those times and cannot see that men were men then.. not simply pressurized, plastic, obedient numbers, under intense, constant, photographic surveillance, as they now are. …
A remarkable government achievement through planned manipulation and control…by the most insidious means….
Far exceeding anything George Orwell could have stretched his imagination to.
Hardly feel political with the old fervor, evident even to the biggest fool that whatever government, whatever faces are up front ..it will make not the slightest difference to the individual in the street .. Government now means “control “ whatever the implied political bias may be.
Unlike most , I have been in the position to simply sit and watch , at times with some amazement, some incredulity at the gullibility of people, exploited quite blatantly by those who call themselves politicians, I could give such beings another label, endless labels, starting with, egotists driven by greed.
Regardless, the masses still struggle on, still hounded by sex, money, and the propagation of the species, still toil to a dubious end, those that have work.
People still get “married” , not with the same conviction in the West, as in my time, then, a point between birth and death, now it is one occasion to get married , another occasion to get divorced, the female with one eye on the net gain. A domestic industry , if you like. Somewhere in the middle are the “children” .
Sit here now, alone, listen to the barking dogs, the stringent car alarms, sound of tires bouncing on cobblestones, the frequent squeal of brakes and the occasional bang of metal against metal. Hardly have to go down the winding spiral stair case and step outside to see the shouting, gesticulating, harassed, pressurized, population, going so very hurriedly about its business on this Tuesday morning. Not even have to close my eyes, can see it all quite clearly, the brilliant sunlight, high overhead, concrete just starting to warm up after the cool night air. ..Bucharest , in full swing.
The pressure not quite off Peter, even now. Still make my appearances in London, still chained in the unrelenting, hot steel box, but only very briefly, hardly feel capable of prolonged exposure to that any longer.. hardly wish to simply die at the steering wheel as my friends have done. Very recently one died quietly in a traffic jam on the corner of Piccadilly and Stratton Street, another found dead in his cab at the Royal Oak … thought he was asleep. Endless faces who have slipped away silently, unnoticed.. alone.. Empty chairs at the long tables , or strange, young, perhaps eager, new faces, showing their new, shiny badges.
Se afișează postările cu eticheta cab drivers. Afișați toate postările
Se afișează postările cu eticheta cab drivers. Afișați toate postările
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.
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.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Glenna's Demise
Susan’s mother, who invariably opened the street door dressed as if expecting the Queen for afternoon tea, became almost “friendly” towards Peter for want of a better word…. She saw the transformation in her daughter, saw the boy becoming bigger and bouncier. Talk of letting Susan have the child back providing it was taken to the mother’s house. the mother very keen on this arrangement, she having the most attractive bungalow, slap in the middle of town.. worth a cock eyed fortune. The past, apparently forgotten, the Sun shone… only the dark shadow of Glenna who by now getting very up tight, she seeing which way the tide was running, it culminated in rather a surprise for Peter.
I had this, or I have? perhaps I still have, not quite sure ? yes, have this affinity for young women, as so many other men, if they but dare admitt it. Glenna completely aware of this. To compliment my penchant, she had the ability to chat these creatures, charm them out of the trees.. not quite mesmerize them…follow her like the pied piper, maybe.
Glenna lived at the YMCA Tottenham Court Road, wonderful gymnasium. Would sit, drink my coffee and watch her contortions, tricks, jumping up and down, running round and round, she incredibly athletic, not a ounce of fat on her.
She would sit with me after these exertions. follow my eyes, see where they were resting, whom they were resting upon, which particular female. Having assessed the position, she would quite casually walk over to whomever, sit down and start chatting, quite comfortably.. simple as that. Occasionally, the chosen girl would nod, go off, get dressed and we three would saunter out to the cab, drive up Tottenham Court Road, Camden Town, Holloway, Finsbury Park, Manor House, down into Darkest Hackney. Up the thirty nine steps and so all into bed. Not always so lucky.. nevertheless, something which brought a smile to my face.
Always deeply interested me to watch Glenna chat and then perform……….
She became more and more morose, believing I was about to ditch her for my new status in Bishops Stortford…..things were by now going so well up there, Susan naturally putting the pressure on Peter to pack London in, which included Glenna.. get a job down there.. Hardly saw myself working for peanuts in the country. Suited me, few nights in London, some nights in the country. Up and down the M.11. what was wrong with that…?
Glenna would come around while I was in town, cook hot peppery food and demand far more than I was able to give her in the huge bed with the plants twirling about it.
Must have been one evening, late August, fiddling about in the flat phone rang…Glenna.. she sounded unusually happy..
“Oh Hi Glen .. '' She , quite calm and collected, her soft, attractive, sultry voice, deceptively flat..
"You know the tall, half cast girl you fancied the other afternoon at the gym…” Her voice tailing off.
knew straight away who she was talking about, a right sort.. about nineteen. Peter took the bait immediately. Immediately wide awake.. “Yes” I said .. gently as I was able "she is coming to my room to see me this evening….for a drink.. are you interested ??" Tried not to fall over myself said I would…… Forgot about driving a cab…
All bathed , cleaned myself up, tried to not look too much like a saddle tramp.. Plenty of time ....time for Johns café, the gang , eggs and chips.. Thought I would sit there as I had done throughout my life… it did seem, have a chat about the interminable nothing, then amble round the corner to Great Russel street. How can that be bad for a evening's entertainment….
Pulled up outside John's, about 30 other cabs there, all straddled down the street. Pubs wide open, everyone spilling on to the pavements with the beer. A very warm evening. Lambs Conduit in its heyday.. really buzzing.
Eggs and chips, had my tea, had another tea, all the gossip, the small adventures.. hot from the crowded streets.. the loud, excited noise from the café flooding out into the street as it had always done.
I looked too near the mark.. enough to arouse some comment, the slightest thing.. the most personal details, openly discussed, thrown about the room, nothing ever missed. They said, quite loudly, more or less in unison, group mind.. group discussion “Well who have you got tonight !! No subtlety about their questioning or questions .. ‘’Not quite sure “ I parried.. “On a promise, Glenna has found something for me “ They, not quite satisfied with this, nevertheless knew it was all they would get.. Albert the knocker persisted.. ”Bet you are away with Glenna for a blow job “. Everyone had had erotic thoughts about Glenna’s lips.. where she may put them and to what degree. Her other, deeper aspect, something which had eluded them, I, hardly going to open my mouth for them to find out….
They, very basic, strangely, in some ways prudish.. Slap bang tickle.. was “Orlright” but to step beyond the prescribed bounds, raised questions on their foreheads.
When they had all gathered at the flat for my “Parties” the photographs always caused them problems ..mostly they looked , yet remained silent.. a remarkable feat for any cab driver. No I hardly felt inclined to fill them in on the other side of Glenna, or myself come to that.
Drove round to Great Russel Street. Glenna very pleased to see me.. perhaps more so than usual …. slightly nervous, perhaps…effusive… Suddenly she locked the door.. Immediately felt as if I were locked in a tiger’s cage, such was the tense atmosphere.
Had been locked in other females flats before.. this particular occasion, realized rather too late I had swallowed the bait, Glenna having Peter precisely where she wanted him, for whatever reason was bugging her..
In a moment of indecision went to the window, thought I would get out of that.. looked down, about seventeen floors beneath me.. so no way was I getting out of any windows, that was for sure.. Thought, well now I have to face whatever it is.
Then she went for me.. flying fists. Here we go again … she a very strong woman. Pleased it was her fists, not a knife. Led with my left and gave her a short right which put her down but not quite out, out, out long enough for me to escape into one of the six lifts. Went up, then halfway down , up again, thought, this is good, up, down.. straight into the arms of Glenna. So now had it on my heels away.. decided not to make for the cab, if she finds that she will simply sit in it, perhaps forever..
Could run quite well in those days. Glenna ran after me, the security man ran after the both of us thinking she was chasing a intruder.. a good evenings entertainment you may think. Soon out of breath. Glenna caught Peter, the security man caught us both. when he realized we more than knew each other, he ambled off muttering.
What do I do now! she firmly had hold of me up against a wall in a back alley, could hear civilization honking and grinding it’s way into oblivion. She, really cracked up, anyone could see she was gone, then out of the blue between gasps she said “I have not had my injection!!” Thought out loud “What injection!!”
“ Oh , every three months I have to have one to keep me calm… up at the Whittigton hospital”
Lovely !! had it away again. Jumped on a bus, she jumped on behind me, jumped off, ran down the tube escalator .. Then we played that game ..on the bus, off the bus. Down the tube, up the tube. All very charming. After about a hour of this, we both surfaced on Kings Cross.
I walked, rather stumbled, into the Wimpy Bar, she tailing close behind.. Sat down, I shaking quite visibly.. my evenings entertainment…
Midnight, the clock straddled over Kings cross starting to strike.. could hear it very clearly through a lull in the traffic. The St Pancras clock, deciding it was midnight ten minutes later ..then, so long as I could remember, it always lagged behind.
Glenna and I both sat appraising the situation in silence , not a word spoken for one of those rather long, uncomfortable moments in time. Quite suddenly, quite calmly, she stood up, gathered herself together, gave me a final look, turned her back and walked out.
Never saw her again
I had this, or I have? perhaps I still have, not quite sure ? yes, have this affinity for young women, as so many other men, if they but dare admitt it. Glenna completely aware of this. To compliment my penchant, she had the ability to chat these creatures, charm them out of the trees.. not quite mesmerize them…follow her like the pied piper, maybe.
Glenna lived at the YMCA Tottenham Court Road, wonderful gymnasium. Would sit, drink my coffee and watch her contortions, tricks, jumping up and down, running round and round, she incredibly athletic, not a ounce of fat on her.
She would sit with me after these exertions. follow my eyes, see where they were resting, whom they were resting upon, which particular female. Having assessed the position, she would quite casually walk over to whomever, sit down and start chatting, quite comfortably.. simple as that. Occasionally, the chosen girl would nod, go off, get dressed and we three would saunter out to the cab, drive up Tottenham Court Road, Camden Town, Holloway, Finsbury Park, Manor House, down into Darkest Hackney. Up the thirty nine steps and so all into bed. Not always so lucky.. nevertheless, something which brought a smile to my face.
Always deeply interested me to watch Glenna chat and then perform……….
She became more and more morose, believing I was about to ditch her for my new status in Bishops Stortford…..things were by now going so well up there, Susan naturally putting the pressure on Peter to pack London in, which included Glenna.. get a job down there.. Hardly saw myself working for peanuts in the country. Suited me, few nights in London, some nights in the country. Up and down the M.11. what was wrong with that…?
Glenna would come around while I was in town, cook hot peppery food and demand far more than I was able to give her in the huge bed with the plants twirling about it.
Must have been one evening, late August, fiddling about in the flat phone rang…Glenna.. she sounded unusually happy..
“Oh Hi Glen .. '' She , quite calm and collected, her soft, attractive, sultry voice, deceptively flat..
"You know the tall, half cast girl you fancied the other afternoon at the gym…” Her voice tailing off.
knew straight away who she was talking about, a right sort.. about nineteen. Peter took the bait immediately. Immediately wide awake.. “Yes” I said .. gently as I was able "she is coming to my room to see me this evening….for a drink.. are you interested ??" Tried not to fall over myself said I would…… Forgot about driving a cab…
All bathed , cleaned myself up, tried to not look too much like a saddle tramp.. Plenty of time ....time for Johns café, the gang , eggs and chips.. Thought I would sit there as I had done throughout my life… it did seem, have a chat about the interminable nothing, then amble round the corner to Great Russel street. How can that be bad for a evening's entertainment….
Pulled up outside John's, about 30 other cabs there, all straddled down the street. Pubs wide open, everyone spilling on to the pavements with the beer. A very warm evening. Lambs Conduit in its heyday.. really buzzing.
Eggs and chips, had my tea, had another tea, all the gossip, the small adventures.. hot from the crowded streets.. the loud, excited noise from the café flooding out into the street as it had always done.
I looked too near the mark.. enough to arouse some comment, the slightest thing.. the most personal details, openly discussed, thrown about the room, nothing ever missed. They said, quite loudly, more or less in unison, group mind.. group discussion “Well who have you got tonight !! No subtlety about their questioning or questions .. ‘’Not quite sure “ I parried.. “On a promise, Glenna has found something for me “ They, not quite satisfied with this, nevertheless knew it was all they would get.. Albert the knocker persisted.. ”Bet you are away with Glenna for a blow job “. Everyone had had erotic thoughts about Glenna’s lips.. where she may put them and to what degree. Her other, deeper aspect, something which had eluded them, I, hardly going to open my mouth for them to find out….
They, very basic, strangely, in some ways prudish.. Slap bang tickle.. was “Orlright” but to step beyond the prescribed bounds, raised questions on their foreheads.
When they had all gathered at the flat for my “Parties” the photographs always caused them problems ..mostly they looked , yet remained silent.. a remarkable feat for any cab driver. No I hardly felt inclined to fill them in on the other side of Glenna, or myself come to that.
Drove round to Great Russel Street. Glenna very pleased to see me.. perhaps more so than usual …. slightly nervous, perhaps…effusive… Suddenly she locked the door.. Immediately felt as if I were locked in a tiger’s cage, such was the tense atmosphere.
Had been locked in other females flats before.. this particular occasion, realized rather too late I had swallowed the bait, Glenna having Peter precisely where she wanted him, for whatever reason was bugging her..
In a moment of indecision went to the window, thought I would get out of that.. looked down, about seventeen floors beneath me.. so no way was I getting out of any windows, that was for sure.. Thought, well now I have to face whatever it is.
Then she went for me.. flying fists. Here we go again … she a very strong woman. Pleased it was her fists, not a knife. Led with my left and gave her a short right which put her down but not quite out, out, out long enough for me to escape into one of the six lifts. Went up, then halfway down , up again, thought, this is good, up, down.. straight into the arms of Glenna. So now had it on my heels away.. decided not to make for the cab, if she finds that she will simply sit in it, perhaps forever..
Could run quite well in those days. Glenna ran after me, the security man ran after the both of us thinking she was chasing a intruder.. a good evenings entertainment you may think. Soon out of breath. Glenna caught Peter, the security man caught us both. when he realized we more than knew each other, he ambled off muttering.
What do I do now! she firmly had hold of me up against a wall in a back alley, could hear civilization honking and grinding it’s way into oblivion. She, really cracked up, anyone could see she was gone, then out of the blue between gasps she said “I have not had my injection!!” Thought out loud “What injection!!”
“ Oh , every three months I have to have one to keep me calm… up at the Whittigton hospital”
Lovely !! had it away again. Jumped on a bus, she jumped on behind me, jumped off, ran down the tube escalator .. Then we played that game ..on the bus, off the bus. Down the tube, up the tube. All very charming. After about a hour of this, we both surfaced on Kings Cross.
I walked, rather stumbled, into the Wimpy Bar, she tailing close behind.. Sat down, I shaking quite visibly.. my evenings entertainment…
Midnight, the clock straddled over Kings cross starting to strike.. could hear it very clearly through a lull in the traffic. The St Pancras clock, deciding it was midnight ten minutes later ..then, so long as I could remember, it always lagged behind.
Glenna and I both sat appraising the situation in silence , not a word spoken for one of those rather long, uncomfortable moments in time. Quite suddenly, quite calmly, she stood up, gathered herself together, gave me a final look, turned her back and walked out.
Never saw her again
...my friends and I
Back in bed for the afternoon, warm here, comfortable here, well looked after.. what is my problem…? Even look forward with equanimity to my seventy first birthday.. few of my friends have made it this far.. most of them are dead ..faded away. Barry still working seven days a week....Ron from Slough, highjack by his bankrupt son and grandchildren, they will never let him escape while he is sitting on a quarter of a million. A few others hang on ..John the coat.. hardly feel he will see fifty. A few more have made it so far as the Isle of Wight.. no further.…The "judge" bought a villa in Spain, but he in deep mire over that. Barry, beautifully set up in St Albans.. at the cost of his eyesight.. Another “long day man “ A longer one on Sundays. He had incredible operations on both eyes which are hardly the topics for discussion ..Told , as everyone, to stop smoking, as everyone, he has ignored this ..still 60 a day. A blind determination to achieve precisely what ?? at whatever cost. He lives mostly other people’s lives ..knows details of mine which I have long forgotten ..often asks “How old is Mark now ? ..”twenty eight.” .”Impossible !!” he always says. ….considering he used to bounce the boy on his knee in John’s café. Believe he has finaly seen the light after my gentle hints about his “retirement…!!” Decided he also will go precisely so far as the others.. along with his lifelong friend “Deaf Terry”. .and “Isle of Wight Bill” who quite suddenly, quite recently, dropped dead at the wheel …53.. finding that driving from Ryde to London ..add to that a twelve hour shift.. is hardly a sinecure.. suicide, rather more descriptive . Their problem .. they work without really seeing a end …where they are going …unable to see the wood for the trees.. The beginnings rarely know their ends.
Abonați-vă la:
Postări (Atom)