21.14 02.07.2007 This is the time when I begin to type the first account of four days in a different dimension of place and experience from that which has become my norm since moving my mother northward.
I have been away for only four days two of which were used mostly in travelling and yet the feeling is strong of having been away and of having new experiences which can be related to my background and therefore my work. At the commencement, I read a few pages of John Le Carre's "The Mission Song." I adore Le Carre's Smiley Spy books because of the TV productions, but the Russia House and Constant Gardener introduced me to his wider work, but the Mission Song was purchased primarily because the subject was born of Missionary Priest. It was only on the long return journey that I read the first third of the book, and was struck by a style which although focussed on unfolding events, did so by continuously relating them to childhood and to the effect of personal circumstances on work activity. There are some people who try in their work, including their MySpace, to hide or disguise who they are and what their real lives are about and like, and who yet depend on the public for their livelihood. This is not practical or desirable in a democratic society.
07.45 03.07.2007 I am now in the process of revising the first draft of my writing of my experience backdated to Friday 29th June although the four pieces, drafted on seven and half hour coach ride home are not sequential in a chronological order and begin and end with the announcement, and by doing so make the a commitment to kept without losing face with myself, that at 2.42 on 29th June I commenced to write what I hope and intend is a coherent and publishable account of my life and the life of my biological mother, and of my childhood mother, thus abandoning Fragments of Time and Fragments of Memory in their presented structured form.
These notes of my subsequent experience cover the events of what has been only my second visit to the area of childhood in three years and included the first train ride to Brighton in at least a decade and probably since childhood, my first visit to Tate Modern since the special visit to the Bruce Nauman installation, to the rebuilt Royal Festival Hall, and rebuilt national Stadium at Wembley, the first visit inside the National Theatre building for a over decade over a decade. I made a first ever walk the three miles from where I was staying at Purley Oaks, close to the busy main line station where trains to the South Coast and Gatwick Airport hurtle past at a rate of one between one minute or two in both directions, along the main road into South Croydon where there is a main line station and then along Croydon High Street with East Croydon station visible at one junction and then onto West Croydon station and on to North Croydon, a journey of between four and five miles which I the repeated in reverse direction, with a stop for a meal and the cinema in between. Overshadowing the visit was awareness of a double car bomb attack outside a nightclub in central London and a car bomb attempt at Glasgow airport, brought home vividly when at Victoria Coach station another woman and either nearly brought the terminal to a halt by reporting that a man who had been sitting by a collection of bags since at least noon when I arrived had disappeared.
The weather also dominated the experience because although the flooding had stopped by the time of the outward journey the scene as the train sped through sections of Yorkshire around Doncaster resembled those of Asian paddy fields than England's usual green and pleasant land. My journey had not progress more than a few minutes walking on Friday morning, before I took shelter beneath the awning of an open all hours convenience store, managed by local Asians, to put on the shower proofs as the first few heavy rain drops turned into a torrent.
The sub was shining again as I sat outside a café within the confines of the station with the consequence that the "house" lights were turned off. The 11.30 Newcastle to Kings Cross, London commences as an empty train but it was evident from those on the platform and the arrays of booked seat tickets as the carriages passed by that it quickly become full. I was able to enjoy a one person with two seats for only the first hour of the journey to York and by then some passengers were having to stand, and at one point I had someone rest against the luggage rack opposite my seat to its left with the consequence that every time someone made their way to the buffet kiosk or toilet I was jostled. It was the severe over crowding of the train, despite passenger being told that the train following ten minutes later might have seats available, which led to my first of several experiences of anti social behavioural disorder over the weekend and which my theme.
The luggage rack appeared much narrow than ones in older trains, and this train was the latest model advertising on every window that laptops were wireless linked from every seat, and I regretted the decision not bring mine, because of the weight and I needed to significant improve my handwriting. The luggage rack was situation next to a toilet opposite which was a standing space next to the traditional space between the doors on either side of carriage or either side of the connecting passage between the carriages. Frustrated that the luggage space had become filled before setting off at Newcastle, a shoulder height mountain of luggage had been hastily abandoned. I do know what cause the pile to collapse as I was facing the opposite direction, but it did, midway in the journey, blocking the passage way. No one moved.
None of the owners of the luggage moved, nor did the three suited and well spoken young men standing adjacent. So being the oldest and least fit, the task was left to me, so I first cleared the passage putting luggage into the space between the two doors and then reassembled the pile in such a way that in fact it remained settled and safe for the rest of the journey. However to complete the foundation it was necessary to move the case of one standing young man less than six inches and he objected moaning that he had paid for a seat and did not have one. I said nothing thinking that I wished I had the power to issue an immediate ASBO Anti Social Behaviour Order or send him to the front line in Iraq. Instead I moved went ahead and fitted a case into the required space forcing his a few inches away and then place an assortment of other cases and bags on top of these. My action merited a mini round of applause from passengers in my carriage, thus confirming the basic common sense of the British people once they abandon their natural reserve and caution. Throughout the luggage experience I was conscious that any of the unchecked bags and cases could have contained a bomb, but apart from this thought I had no intention of letting a bunch of misguided God driven politicised fanatics affect my life, although, "may they rot in hell for eternity," has become a prayer which I am now saying five times a day. I know it's unchristian of me, but I do add, "Unless they admit their sins and genuinely seek redemption." IT was a day for airing prejudices and I speculated based on the conversation of the three young men that they were probably also upset with the ban on fox hunting and the band on smoking in enclosed public space which came into effect on July 1st.
The second award of an ASBO went to a woman one seat to my left in the row in front at the Diana Concert at Wembley stadium. I had been allocated four of the best seats in house, apart from those in section where Princes and their friends had seats in the mid tier to my right. The seats were nine rows from the front of the second block of seats, just off the centre of the stage in front, and a second stage to the left which had been built outreach among the A Block almost opposite the Princes and their party. In the pre-concert warm up everyone sitting on the playing surface area was ordered to stand up, clap, dance and behave like football supporters in order to impress the viewing public in 140 countries with an audience which increased to 500 million as the concert progressed. The low cost of the tickets had obviously been set to take account that we were regarded as unpaid extras in a lavish export product of Britishness, especially to the USA which was being shown interstate with the consequence that a number of well knowns Denis Hopper of Easy Rider Fame such, Kieffer Sutherland of 24 and Gillian Anderson of the X Files were flown over to make introductions
The problem which the warm up caused is that children and persons of short height seated in the arena would be unable to see and had been given no choice where they could sit, as is the normal situation in stadium arena pop and rock concerts where stands are also available. In this instance the stage was not built high enough so significant numbers could not see the performers or the large screens on either side. Fortunately there were sitting down breaks when films of Diana's charity work and interests were shown between performers, as well as the normal time taken to change arrangements for musicians and other scene settings. The theatrically of the sets, superior to most West End Musicals all put together showed the genius of Andrew Lloyd Weber and those organising the event. There were also moments when the majority of the audience sat down to enjoy a performance which required one to listen and look rather than stomp, shout and join in. Some took the opportunity to stand up and take photos with their mobiles but everyone, with one exception, took the opportunity to sit down. The exception was a mature woman and her partner who was only a few years younger than me and enjoyed himself for most of the time by caressing her ample bum. She preened and pushed forward her ample and partially exposed and well supported bosom while they both downed pints which she then thrown down on the floor. I would not dare suggest that she was intoxicated but she ignored the feeble attempts of her companion to get her to sit down where she appeared to be the only person in the seated area standing. The majority of the audience were trying to attract the array of cameras so as to be flashed on TV, although I wondered how many understood that a proportion of the cameras were sweeping over the crowd with added intensity for security reasons.
My polite request for her to sit at one point when she stood alone met with a harangue about no one having the ability to tell her what to do and even my appeal about what would the Princess have said to her fell on deaf ears. The companion then took her off for a walk and a long absence after which she was subdued and sat down frequently even when everyone else was standing. Because it was evident that she was remorseful I removed the ASBO before the end of show because of good behaviour. I have no doubt those video tapes of the antics of the couple will on the shelves of camera men and their directors from across the globe. I was once shown round a multi screen video security screen bank in an official capacity where the staff, mostly ex police and service personnel explained the antics of the general public when they think a camera is on them, and sometimes when they forget. We have more cameras in public places than anywhere else in the world.
I remain uncertain however if the worst offender merited being immediately sent to prison or was ignorant because of being a visitor and lacking English language. I arrived at the coach station at midday and about 12.30 moved to a seat where adjacent, and with his back to the ranks of coaches, a gentlemen wearing an unbuttoned fawn jacket, and receding hair line, aged late twenties early thirties, and of light brown skin, had sat surrounded by four or five cases and large open bags. He had been there were I arrived at noon.
About 12.40 as two coaches for my destination route drove up, I stood in the narrow area between the glass fronted and glass waiting area and a crush type barrier to prevent customers moving onto the area used by coaches they as they swung round towards the exit. I stood on one side of the door and a lady stood on the other, and she attracted my attention and that of the nearest attendants that the man had disappeared leaving the bags unattended, despite at least three reminders from the public address system that this should not happen. The attendants contacted control while we provided information on his appearance and then length of time he had been sitting before the disappearance, and fortunately he arrived back before the station was cleared. He was suitable reprimanded, but looked bemused and lack comprehension of the gravity of the situation in which he had placed him and us in. The incident however broke the ice on the coach which was explained to the additional passengers who joined the coach along the route. Everyone was also impressed by the number of police, some armed, and who were visible on streets of London.
On the Sunday morning I had debated travelling to Wembley by bus from Victoria Station as has custom in previous years when visiting the old stadium. However on making my way to the information boards my attention was diverted by the arrival of two police dogs, their handlers, and half other police who surrounded a family car parked between the taxi lane and the bus lanes. It had a sleek solid storage box on its roof. It may have been a test event but I decided to reverse tracks and made my way to the congested circle and district line because the Victoria and other line using the station was closed from planned maintenance over the weekend.
The fourth candidate for an ASBO was myself because at 12.30-12.45 am, after the concert, my entrance card to the Inn keepers lodge building did not work, and the two staff who observed in the bar area ignored my knocking and ringing of the bell. I therefore banged with increasing ferocity until the duty manager responded with an apologetic explanation that my card had been only authorised for two nights and not for the complimentary third.
I now turn to lighter experiences where some might nevertheless consider an ASBO is merited. On the Saturday morning I had obtained a seat with a small table on the train from Purley Oaks to Victoria, a journey of some thirty to forty minutes and on the first part of the journey I crouched over the table, writing, with the opposite seats vacant. I took no immediate notice of the appearance of the passenger who sat down on reaching East Croydon, two stops later, but decided to sit back out of politeness and immediately struggled to restrain a gasp. The lady was attractive, with flowing curly fair shoulder length hair, she wore and open jacket below which appears to be a top, cut low below bust level, and with a bare chest width which revealed braless breast to below the nipple level, although these were not visible frontal but would have been from a side view. It was evident to her, and to me that it was evident to her that I had taken a prolonged look at the show to which there was an unabashed smile and defiant refusal to alter her dress. I resisted the temptation to engage her in conversation as I had a full day and night of activity arranged. We were then outside Victoria for what appeared to be a long time and as the train moved onto a platform the driver guard announced that there would be a delay before the doors opened. I incorrectly assumed this was added security following the two attempts to detonate car bombs outside a nightclub with up to 1700 young people inside.
The woman then buttoned up the jacket which hid the spectacle beneath and made for the door while I remained seated contemplating prolonged delay. (The following morning I learnt that the announcement refers to a standard delay for 5 to 10 seconds to prevent passengers alighting from a slow moving train which used to be custom for those late for work or wanting to go to the front of the taxi queue). As I exited the station for the underground I observed the same women going into Boots which was to one side with a coffee house and a record store in between. That I thought was the end of this encounter with feminine liberation and reinforcement that I was not longer regarded as a sexual being and therefore of interest or a threat.
On Monday morning I arrived at the station just after 11am and decided on a mug of tea at the café adjacent to Boots, having first bought a couple of newspapers to read reports of the concert and the attempted terrorist attack on Glasgow airport. I drank the tea, read both papers, wrote some notes and then decided to buy lunch, opting for Boots rather than the M and S available a few yards away because the previous morning in addition to a delicious prawn pasta salad, I had been unable resist a strawberry jam cream scone and a box of chocolate mints. There was a woman ahead of me the queue after I selected a sandwich, drink and treat deal for £3.20 and my attention was focussed on her basket which was full of 3 for 2 vitamins offers, possible thirty to forty items which led to speculation that she was some kind if vitamin addict. There was a delay while the assistant clarified with a manger who some items did not register for the offer and the manager explained that they were excluded because of size (quantity) and the woman decided to exchange these for others and towards me, and yes it was the same woman in the same jacket buttoned and I have no idea if she recognised me as I did her. Now of all the gin joints in the world you walk into mine! I have therefore no means of knowing if the unbuttoned spectacle was the same as before but it did occur that that she had been somewhere with someone over the weekend, had noted the offer on the Saturday morning visit to the store and was stocking up for herself and family,, friends, half of Croydon, if she lived there, before returning home. I also had worked out that the spectacle had been deliberate and she had tested out my reactions before unleashing herself on the greater wide world, because as I made my way to catch the train for Brighton on Saturday evening, I and about 100 other passing passengers stopped in our tracks to observe someone over six feet tall wearing the briefest of mini skirts and the longest of suspenders and as my companions larger in the evening suggested the biological sex identity of the creature was open to question. It was at this point that I learnt it was Pride Saturday.
I have no commercial interest in promoting Victoria station as place to sit on the first floor Veranda of Wetherpoons', or at the outside coffee lounge previously mentioned or on one of the group of six seats close to the main arrival and departures board, as I decided to use another half hour before transferring to wait at the coach station on Monday morning. Next to me was an elderly woman with walking stick who firm and penetrating stare had caused the previous young woman occupant to abandon the seat. The woman clutched the biggest bunch of the biggest deep red roses I have ever seen, purchased I believe from an adjacent florist at outrageous price by her husband, who gesture nearly tempted me to offer my seat to him although we were of the same generation and I was still shattered from the exertions of previous days to the extent that my feet hurt to walk. He uttered the gasp I had restrained on the Saturday morning and she chided him because our attention was directed at two gorgeous glamorous young women in extraordinary high heels wearing skimpy black cocktail dresses heading for the South Coast extension platforms in the Victoria coach station side of the train station. One was also wearing a mini dress which off her beautiful longlegs to their full advantage. They both had walked of the latest cover of Vogue magazine and brought the station to a standstill. About a dozen yards behind them was a bouncer looking young man with a headpiece microphone but whether he was directing the ladies or part of station security I know not. I was too tired to make any effort to satisfy my curiosity. I had also done my good deed for the day because sitting opposite me from East Croydon where two Chinese speaking and looking women, one I guess the mother was wearing a great hat suitable for Ascot and the other the daughter was pointing out places of interest on a tourist map. As we approached Clapham junction they made to get up and then realising we had not reached the terminal sat down and asked the young man sitting next to me how many stations there were before Victoria, in very hesitant English. He had attracted my attention because of the large cardboard box brought into the compartment on his shoulder. As we approached Victoria, the daughter enquired of him if it was possible to walk to Buckingham Palace and he is a mid European accent suggested the underground although he could not immediately say which station
This was my invitation to parade my knowledge and with my pocket underground map and my note book I explained the two options of the Circle line to St James Park or the Victoria Line and walking through either park to the Mall. I then was able to explain that they could use their one day travel card which the mother showed me and I then led them to the entrance of the Victoria line w
hen the route through Green Park to the Mall was the most direct. It was my good deed for the day because I had my bags with me and my feet hurt.
There is one more ASBO to award before commencing my piece on cosmopolitan greater London and watching the worse obnoxious film of my life, by mistake. However I also need to mention one other example of the elderly deciding to do their thing and putting the behaviour of the present young into perspective. On Saturday lunchtime I decided on lunch at the National Theatre, a small baguette of cheese onion pickle and a bottle of still water, in order to be entertained by two Argentinean Tango musicians Carlos Quillici and Xavier Fiortmarti in a performance sponsored by Sir Harry and Lady Djanogly. I can not say that this was the couple about a decade older than me that provided the additional entertainment of performing the Tango on their own, on the makeshift dance floor adjacent to the stage in the cafeteria restaurant, but it would be a nice touch if they were. Certainly there was more sophistication than the Octopussian couple at the Diana concert!
On the Saturday I caught the last train from Brighton to London and this increased my haul of ASBO' awarding by a further three. I did not consider the six lively young women, one who claimed to be seventeen, on their way to Gatwick for a holiday in Southern pain, and who attempted to persuade one young man to assist her with her luggage on arrival, but which he wisely refused fearing the train would depart without him. I had no doubt that their combined predatory skills would be an effective force and it was evident they were not taking the trip for the sights, sea and sand, but for shopping and sex.
I also excluded the mature educated, sophisticated and worldly couple who it appeared had met earlier in the day and were returning to London after some conference or event, and who had attracted my attention when discussing the various places they had visited and wished to visit including Casablanca, "of all the gin joints in the world" and Tangier which my mother had visited shortly before coming to England in 1938. I was tempted to award the male an ASB0 when in an attempt to impress the lady who had something to do with fine wine, he mentioned the Cognac he had drunk at a recent dinner and which was price at £102. She admitted she did not Cognac. Both were clearly uncomfortable by the antics of three young men who attempted to entertain the girls with exaggerated displays of being Gay although there pretend penetration noises performances did merit the ASB0 award if it was still Pride Day. The last word went to the train driver who advised everyone who wished to do take their last puff of a cigarette on a station platform when we reached Three Bridges, while waiting for a linking connection. I nearly reminded a sixth form attired young man who joined a subsequent train at South Croydon for the one stop to Purley Oaks for smoking n the platform at about twenty minutes past midnight, but it was just as well as I did not because in fact the ban did not commence until 6 am.
No comments:
Post a Comment