Tuesday, 14 April 2009

1236 Travelling to London and Churchill's Daughter

Although this was a travelling day I could not break the recent cycle of having a little sleep after the evening meal and then working until deciding it was time to go to bed, but then stayed thinking for what seemed to be a long time and therefore used BT to wake me 9 am but it was after 9.30 when I made it and getting on for 10.30 when I got my act sufficiently together to begin to pack for a few days away.

Fortunately I had allowed myself plenty of time to sit down and check that I had packed everything needed and from the weight of the large case I thought I had. Not that I had suddenly acquired a lot of clothes or believed I would need several changes of outfits but the combination of Christmas presents, my mobile technology, some food and the three volume autobiography of George Melly. I forget two essentials, my light weight transport map of central London and train times for a major visit.

The leisurely approach meant that the plan to leave when there appeared to be no prospect of rain failed and the combination of a case which felt more like a trunk and a light drizzle ruined the start, although the approach of accepting that I would get a little wet meant that I did not generate sweat which would have involved a change of shirt on reaching Newcastle.

We have become obsessed with reducing the time of travel with the consequence that trains do not linger at stations with the consequence that as soon as passengers alight and many do as there are only a couple of trains which begin at Newcastle and there are always as been seeking to get on. My seat in fact had been occupied before me. The consequence is that everyone rushes to find space for their luggage and their seat and loses whatever good humour their journey had commenced. I was tired, quickly tired although I had not eaten the first of two prepared rolls until reaching the station at two pm, making do with a small tray of shell on prawns and coca cola. When I felt refreshed it was time for George Melly, or so I believed in good faith, but I did not proceed beyond the first page, when for the second time within a year I was stimulated to write the introduction to the book about my mother, my aunt and me, and this evening I was tempted to transfer eighteen and a half pages of a reporter's notebook to the laptop computer, although I do not do shorthand and the computer is on a desk. I did try to read more but became sleepy and after a tea which followed coffee a poor coffee at the station two and a half hours earlier I revived but not sufficient to want to read or write, and 15/20 minutes arrival I gathered coats and packed the rucksack and made my way to the other end of the carriage for my case and stood alone for a few minutes before being joined by a young woman who had with her three items of luggage. The first was a giant plastic bag which at a little distance appeared to be filled with the kind of material used by a contemporary installation artist and what could have been a packed canvas. It was she who asked for the time, commenting on the time it was taking her to get from the alighting on the train till now, to which I mentioned my journey had commenced two hours before from Newcastle. She then made two interesting revelations and I need to take great care if further enquiries prove what she said to be true.

She mentioned that for a time she had regularly made the trip to Newcastle from her home town to watch her brother who was footballer, someone who I had watched since his arrival at the club and departure and whose career I continued to follow. It was then that I felt bold enough to ask if she was a contemporary artist referring to contents of the see through plastic bag, and then she explained where she had been and the significance of the day. If she had told me the information in reverse I would not have been highly suspicious because her openness and manner reminded me of when as relatively inexperienced social worked I had travelled with a colleague across England to collect two female absconders from a remand home and had found their open behaviour far more difficult to cope with than their male counterparts.

I hoped to go on line and investigate my hunch that I had been told the truth in which instance I shall say no more, but although my lap top is wireless ready and there is instruction in the room how to connect, I suspect some additional hardware is required which will attempt to sort out before my next trip in January when with the luxury of a first class ticket I expect to be able to use on the train. This was the third conversation within the day where by my own created rules I cannot be more specific.

At Kings Cross I made my way to Information desk because I had been told that the Thames link to East Croydon had moved to St Pancras and I did not want to make the short journey if this was not so. The move takes effect on Sunday, so I will use on the Monday for my journey homeward. In the past I had used the Thames link connection to Sutton, stopping at an interim station for a connection to Wallington, but had not known there were also trains to East Croydon. At the ticket office there was another information officer to ask about the use of fast touch screens ticket machines if they did the one travel card which he showed me the one required at £6.70 adding that if I made the few minuets walk to the existing Thames link connection the cost would less and he went off to check that the amount would £3.80, and he then accompanied me to the exit to check if it was raining. It appeared not because no one was passing by with umbrellas, so I decided to risk it and of course got wet. The problem with stations, Kings Cross, Victoria and as I found, Kings Cross Thames link is that there are stairs, with escalators also when using Kings Cross Underground.
Although it was six in the evening the homeward rush hour was well under way and the train was standing room only as is made several stops until reaching London Bridge, when there was breathing space for the non stop section to East Croydon, whereas the Victoria link has a stop at the great train junction of the world at Clapham. The train then went on to Brighton but decanted more than half its population at East Croydon. It is a very short walk from here to the Travel Lodge, with reception on the first floor, my room on the seventh of I ten floors with panoramic views across Croydon to the College, the theatre concert hall, the Nestle tower and to where I worked in the motor vehicle licence section of the Finance department of the Council where I worked between the ages of eighteen and twenty. The security system which I had wondered about appears to be good with electronic card access to the lift as well as to individual rooms. One reason for using the giant case is that it has a lock not the kind to prevent a professional thief but sufficient to deter the curiosity of a cleaner. I will take my lap top and camera with me on my travels over the next three days( ho ho ho)

Arriving just after seven and demolishing the other roll, a puff pastry mince pie, some grapes and a pear and a cup of tea there was no inclination to go the pictures as intended and the attempt to find out about wireless without being on line was set aside to watch a programme about the wife of Randolph Churchill which included the surprisingly candid comments of their son Winston. The programme was called Churchill's daughter although she was of course his daughter in law.

The programme and the their son and statements by the daughter in law provided a picture of Randolph as a risk taking gambler who in the war lost three year's salary on his way to Egypt and who liked alcohol too much. However even he found the behaviour of his wife too rich as she established herself as confident to her father in law and embryonic courtesan to the rich and famous. It is said that with Churchill's blessing and while still married to his son she became mistress of the leading American in the land and therefore provided Churchill with a unique perspective of the American viewpoint throughout the war from pillow talk. After which there was nothing stopping her although period in Paris and France led to a premature departure.

Young Winston admitted that he never had a mother in the conventional sense and was thrust into the adult world from the age of nine year, expected to accompany her on functions with other adults when she did not have a personal male escort, this included taking her to dances. It was when she met and married the aging and exceptionally wealthy Averill Harriman that her fortunes changed in more ways than the obvious although she quickly controlled the ongoing links with his own family with hers, so that one relative wistfully commented that whereas he was accustomed to receiving expensive gifts, that Christmas he was given a tie and Winston junior was given an aeroplane, a real one.

However it was not her acquisitive and high spending lifestyle which brought her international recognition but her fund raising and social skills led her to become the dominating influence in the Democratic party, and to discover, nurture and financially back Bill Clinton into the White House. Bill then called upon her to ask what she wanted as a reward and he overlooked career diplomats and fellow politicians to make her the American Ambassador in Paris. As the second programme on the working life of Queen Elizabeth demonstrated she has a special relationship with the Governor Generals of former territories and Ambassadors of friends and foes.

I digress to remember the night spent on a vigil outside the Russian Embassy, the sitting down outside of South Africa House and the use made of the American Embassy lending library of books and records. There was also the day I was invited to lunch with Ambassador of a country in Africa, who at Ruskin I had lent my Correspondence course on the English Language and Literature and given my half baked views on the nature of the English Civil service as the strength of democracy, only to find out afterwards that he had been the secretary of the civil service union of his country. Alas I was required to present a report to a court on the day of the lunch and had to cancel and did not receive a further invitation as a consequence.

Churchill's daughter died from a stroke after swimming a number of length the day after returning from a hectic visit to celebrate the birthday of a grandchild, having enjoyed a fox hunt jumping gates between fields. The president of France contacted her son Winston to say he had intended to award her France's highest award which he would now do so posthumously, whereupon President Clinton laid on airforce one and gave her a state funeral. Only within the last week did I discover that David Cameron is descended from the courtesan to a King which confirms the nature of wealth and political power and the opportunities available to young women with the right social education and understanding of men. It was said in the programme that when she hosted a political social event, such as a fund raiser she was skilled in taking the men to oneside, one by one, to explain her requirements of them, but to restrict the time with each individual not to arouse the concern of wives or to generate gossip which had commenced when the whole of social London knew of her special relationship with Churchill and with the American Ambassador.

Six months have passed since my last trip of any kind for the Concert marking ten years since the death of Princess Diana, I have yet to go through the DVD again and to see if during the six hours of performers and crowd interaction they came close to where I was sitting. There is still the sense of adventure before and on the day of a trip. There is great advantage in taking the car except for the travelling. Travelling by train is excellent but then there is the problem of the luggage. Little did I know how much the issue of travelling was to be a feature of this trip.

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