1772 Kate Humble and her ancestors

I should, given the quantity and nature of things to do, put writing aside but I was greatly affected by Who do you think you last night which featured a TV presenter Kate Humble whose programmes I do not recall watching. It was revealed that Kate has not one but three remarkable ancestors, all men, two of them grand parents and one a great great grand parent. This seems an unfair distribution. But then the distributions of life experience are unfair and not random

Kate presented herself in this programme as self assured, vivacious, open, lovable and adventurous devoted to nature and to animals. Before being introduced to her mother and father I assumed she was privately educated and with a comfortable to wealthy middle class background. She met her father in the garden of the local pub and her mother in home to discuss their respective ancestors and both confirmed my first assumption. They were both interesting people in their own right about whom I wished to know more about.

Kate admits she was part of a family who did not discuss their emotions and personal experiences and that although she knew something about her two male grand parents in fact she knew little of them and was concerned less she discovered they had done remarkable things and would spend the rest of her life wishing she could live up to them. That this was signalled at the commencement of the programme suggested what was to follow rather than something different.

The first remarkable individual was her paternal grandfather who was a distinguished second World War Test pilot and before then a flamboyant air show performer who owned his own aircraft and whose work both as a performer and Test Pilot is well recorded and admired. There several hints of his being something of a ladies man and photographs indicated a Hollywood appearance and personality. It was another example of grandchildren finding admirers and fans of their ancestors among the specialist public while they were unaware of their the fame of the individual.

He had trained as a mining engineer whose father had been the major owner of a Northumberland coalfield and this led to an interest in his background and to the discovery that his grandfather/father had been a mine viewer, originally put down and hewer although the two roles could not be further apart. The hewer is the individual who goes into the bowels of the earth to bring out the coal and which in the era of the ancestor involved families including children as young as 11 years. The Viewer and Assistant Viewer of which her ancestors was one were the managers and assistant managers of the pit employed by the owners. It is assumed that whereas the mine owners need not have direct mining experience or technical knowledge the Viewers would. I would like to know more but cannot devote the time.

Moreover her relative had been one of those in charge of the New Hartley pit in Northumberland which suffered the most terrible of disasters and which changed the way mines were established thereafter.

The New Hartley mine is South of Blythe and I had seen the village signposted on my recent trip to the area but had no knowledge of the shocking history. The village is now part of North Tyneside with North Shields regarded the principal town of the area outside of Newcastle at the time. 204 men and boys, nine in one family, with some 600 dependents died because the pumping mechanism broke and fell down the main shaft sealing it for several days until sufficient of the fallen mental could be raised for the bodies to be brought to the surface. Only 25 men remained in the surrounding villages. The inquest found that it had been an accident and that the managers had acted courageously. He ancestor had left the industry and opened a drapery store in County Durham at Seaham. One wonders to day if the management would have been so regarded, The disaster led to Parliament deciding that all pits had to have two shafts in future.

Although the ancestor left mining, although as his son or one of his grand son became a coal field owner confirms that the family had wealth and position. As with the Test pilot one felt considerable editing about the men had been undertaken by the programme and their legal and other advisers to the families involved. More on this later.

Attention was then directed to her maternal grandfather who she knew as a quiet man sitting in a corner with a pint and tobacco. He was known to have been World War Two air crew in bombers and to have been shot down a few months after he met and married her grandmother. He made several escapes before the family believed he had been moved to Colditz when in fact he was sent to Stalag Luff Three, as famous as Colditz because of the Great Escape and the Wooden Horse. The Great Escape film with Steve McQueen and a host of others actors masks the story of 50 men executed because they escaped at the same time from a camp designed to prevent escapes, with only three reaching freedom and the rest some 23 were returned or sent to other camps including three to Colditz. Some 600 men were involved in the construction of three tunnels with 200 planning to escape in Harry, the tunnel which was not discovered. From the journal record book of her grandfather it is established that he had a role in planning the escape and may have been one of those waiting to depart when the escape was discovered. This is because at the back of the book there was a brief note of significance in that it is known that the valuables of the executed men were auctioned among the prisoner so that they would not fall into the hands of the Germans and the money raised set aside to be given to the dependents after the war. There were ten thousand officers in the camp and of those executed 21 were from the UK, 16 from the Commonwealth and the rest other Europeans. The three who successfully escaped were Norwegian and Dutch.

This morning I looked up Kate Humble on the Internet (born 1968 and therefore 41, she comes across as younger) and discovered that her site has been withdrawn for updating. Wikipedia is both revealing and secretive. The site says nothing about her parents and if she has brothers and sisters for example.

After leaving school where she describes herself as a poor student she travelled through Africa from cape Town to Cairo working her way. She then established herself as an explorer and writer. For the past ten years she become an A list TV presenter involved in some 40 programmes. The article mentioned that she is married having moved from Chiswick to Wales, that she has not had the inclination to have children and that she is a private nudist all which make a colourful and interesting character in her own right.

There are vast blanks in the story of her ancestors and herself which the new website or website changes might address or possibly information is being removed which is no longer wished to retained now that the extent of public attention on her life has increased. This is an excellent example of the point I have had made several times that it is possible to individuals to lead public lives but to retain degrees of privacy and to control the extent to which examination of aspects of their history does not adversely affect the lives of relatives who wish to retain their privacy.
On one hand people like me would love to know lots more about Kate and family because of the completer finisher instincts which require the fullest possible information picture before coming to conclusions. On the hand there are others only too willing to exploit any negative or dark aspects for their own interest, often occupational and financial without regard for the potential impact on individuals and their families. It is a difficult balance, more difficult for someone naturally open and honest. The broadsheet media has an important role to play in holding the balance.

The programme is one of the best of all the series to-date because it generated viewer interest in the lives of three men and in particular the wider role of test pilots during World War 2 with one in four losing their lives, in the nature of coal mining in Victoria times through to the creation of the National Coal Board, and in the ingenuity and bravery of those who became prisoners of war.

As the war came to an end the Germans moved the prisoners from their camps as they retreated from the advancing enemy, using the prisoner as Shields from air attacks. Kate travelled by car the 800 kilometres from the Stalag to Lubeck where they were held until the town was surrendered to the allies. They were expected to march 30 kilometres a day in freezing weather conditions with no food until possible something in the evenings. They became like automatons. At one stop Kate was joined by a survivor from the camp and march who found the return difficult as it reminded of the darkest moment of his life. They had tried to do their best he said with genuine modesty a living reminder of the great debt present generations have, Kate mother mentioned that when her father returned her parents were strangers who did not recognise each other. She was four and half years old when they met for the first time. There is one good family biography, an autobiography, and films to come within the story of he Humbles and Carters.

I realised I needed a blood test for my health check appointment next week and this involved a 12 hour fast. The Hospital now charge £1.20 for the privilege of parking. This meant I did not have the change for the car parking at Asda. I left a note at the window and bought the rolls and pastries for the cricket changing a £20 note at the DIY check out and then after getting the car park cricket went tot he bank to pay in the cheque from Northern electric, now N power before calling in at Marks and Spencer’s for cherries, three packs of chicken pieces for £5 and two packs of crispy bacon with a pack of salmon pieces again for £5. The crispy bacon was delicious with a lunchtime salad and I could not resist eating the rest later in the afternoon. It became something of a bad food day as I had a soup and roll with the salad followed by the rest of the sweet melon and later anchovies with crackers for afternoon tea. Calling in at Wilkinson they not only had more of the blue display folders but a new supply of black. They are nearly giving away the 20 page variety at half price or two for 1 more accurately. I had gone for the washing up pads where a large packs costs under £1 so I used each only for a couple of days before discarding. It was then back to the supermarket where I completed the purchase with a fresh supply of the prawns in shell, salami and Greek olives with feta cheese. I forgot to reclaim the £1 parking charge so had to go back up to the customer services counter. The assistant was upset because previously she had been shouted out.

Back home after the meal I rang regarding the camera and it was ready on the 15th which surprising because it could have been returned before the London trip and would be released now after I had asked it to be held until the 28th. I am still convinced the hold up was because I had he renewed subscription as this seemed pointless until it was confirmed the charger could be replaced.

Rain held up the Test match and everything pointed to no play to day but everything was being done to start the match so that the spectators had something for their time and money, although one felt the authorities were anxious because of the loss of revenue if there was no play and refunds made. Play commenced around five and Australia after winning the toss and with a new opening pair and much pride to salvage scored freely on the notorious Warwickshire wicket made more lifeless but the latest lake creating downpour of the endless torrents this summer.

Durham have been awarded an Ashes Test for 2013, the year after the Olympics. Newcastle Managed a home draw in their friendly against Leeds after being thrashed 6.0 at Spurs, There is talk of Ashley having to rake the club into administration. There is also the story of those making a bid withdrawing it after hearing nothing further from the club. What a scandal? What a disgrace?

I watched the last Question Time of the political season with the sensible and ration Shirley Women’s possible the best Prime Minister we never had alongside the positively wicket George Galloway who formed his own party Respect, both refugees from the hierarchical infrastructure of the Labour Party. Geoff Hoon was then embarrassed and doing his best to dig himself and his Party of the ever increasing political Black hole they have dug for themselves. There was also Clive James representing us who have reached the end of our lives, possibly, so we look at things differently from you young folk brigade. There was also the young Conservative Asian Member of the House of Lords trying to put a good spin on a Conservative Front bench full of old Etonians and Oxbridge. I don’t mind this aspect of our government. I have never believed that because a large chunk of the population are political morons, they should therefore be represented in government, no more than criminals, anti monarchists, atheists and non democrats. What I do object to is that people with ability and contributions to the development of British society and prevented because of their parental and family circumstances while others gain footholds because of family and who the family knows. Apparently the latest method is for families to sponsor internships which is a fancy name for young people with the right education and background gaining practical experience in the professions and government for a year or two working for free. They then have a substantial edge when it comes to applying for vacancies which have to be advertised. Shirley Williams made the point that apart from Tony Blair recent Prime Ministers have not gone to public schools and John Major for examples was brought up in a small flat in Brixton.

I also enjoyed the latest New Tricks, the series about aging policemen resurrected to examine long standing unsolved serious crimes. Although the main story usually has flaws sometimes significant ones such as in this episode where a bullied wife uses the opportunity of someone who takes her car and possibly commits suicide to enable her daughter to stay in the UK, to fake her own death and live with the man she loves, bringing up the child of the husband as their own and then goes into a public place in the area of where the husband works and lives. People can do stupid things like that but the majority would take every step to prevent discovery. On touch I liked was that a vicar having disclosed that he knew that a character was running a sweat shop with illegal’s migrants, he was given the opportunity to warn them that the Home Office was being informed so hey were able to disappear. Another was the Albanian migrant worker who pretend to be Polish to fit into the present popular belief that the overwhelming majority of Polish workers are all dedicated and efficient, which they are, while Albanians have in their midst gangsters who are providing girls for Europeans Brothels, organising illegal migrations and the supply of illegal substances

1272 Lost The Facts and the Fiction

On February 2nd 2003 I received a telephone call to say that my aunt Harriet had died. I had stayed several hours with her the previous evening in the side room where she had been moved so the news was not unexpected and I was already up dressed, breakfasted and ready to recommence the vigil. She was the tenth of seven sisters and four brothers to die and the only one where the circumstances were such as to merit personal investigation and official enquiries that continue to this day. At the time the thought of such enquiries or that they would continue for so long were further from my mind. There were two considerations. The first was what to say to my mother who was at the stage in the illness of severe memory loss with psychosis that she could be upset by what was said to her, only to forget what was said the following instant. From that date until her death, Harriet was always with her friends in other parts of the same building in which my mother had become resident, and was then subsequently moved to, so that I could visit more regularly. She was never satisfied with this explanation and constantly asked staff the whereabouts of her sister, although during the last years or so, she mentioned her less and staff said that although her speech became more and more indistinct, it was sometimes evident to them that she was asking about me.
　
She may not have known who I was, sometimes I was her father, one her brothers, sometimes I was the child of one of her sisters, but as a consequence of the admission of my aunt to hospital and my mother to residential care on the previous January 9th, for the first time in over six decades my mother introduced to me as her son when she spoke to members of staff. It was part of her attempt to cling to memory and for days, weeks and months after admission she would recite the names of her brothers and sisters as a way of trying not to forget them.
　
The second cause for thought that morning as I sat with her was to make a mental list of the things which would need to be done, from advising her relatives in Gibraltar, the USA and various parts of England, to issues such as burial and cremation, services and locations. It was while I was sitting there thinking about her life and these things that what medical and nursing staff said to me filled me with unemotional anger, as what they said, was contradictory, and brought into sharp focus concerns which had mounted over the past three weeks about the circumstances which led to the hospital admission against her expressed wishes. Medical and nursing staff in hospital in the community at best were making things up, although it quickly became evident that some lied. Proving this was so would be difficult and one had to ask if doing so would be worth the price which would have to be paid. As time elapsed the question of conspiracy to pervert the course of justice became an additional concern and remains so to this day.
　
The rest of my Saturday, five years later, was a mixture of activity, some productive, but I went to bed dissatisfied because of other matters. The circumstances of the death of my aunt is always with me, as is everything else that has happened in my life, including my knowledge of family and general history and what has happened and is happening to others, who lives have been and are less fortunate and more fortunate, or similar I have stopped everything else and given what happened to my aunt undivided attention during February through to May 2003 when her ashes were taken to Gibraltar for a mass and burial services, when the casket was placed in the tomb where her parents were once buried, in a cemetery immediately under the great Rock, close to the sea, by the airport. Then again when I received the two reports from the second level complaints system later that year and then prepared, with help, to attend separate meetings with the Community and Hospital Health Trust and the Social Services Local Authority. Then again when I made submissions to the Parliamentary and Health Ombudsman and the Local Authority Ombudsman for advice, following which I appealed the findings of the second level complaints procedure and agreed to participate in a second level Local Authority complaint investigation. It was following the result of the second level local authority investigation, the moving of my mother to a residential home in this area, and the consequential need to close her home and sort out her possessions, that the decision was taken to abandon the formal complaint procedure because I believed the truth would not emerge, and tried to concentrate instead on getting the appropriate authorities to ensure that the matters where it had been agreed changes needed to me made were appropriate, were implemented and that their effectiveness was monitored. It was only at this point at the end of 2004 and the early part of 2005 that I was made aware that the Health service complaint system has been radically changed and that the new system would enable one enquiry to be made covering all health authorities and individuals involved, and that from the autumn of 2005 it would be possible for a joint investigation involving the new Social Services Inspection and complaints agency as well as the new Health Services Commission. The problem was that my complaints had commenced under the old system and included formal reference to the Parliamentary and Health Services Ombudsman, who indicated that my referral had moved from the queue awaiting consideration to allocation to a preliminary investigation officer and I was unclear to me how the new system would in relation to the rest of the system, because in addition to the Parliamentary and Health Ombudsman and their system and the new Health Commission replacing the old complaints system, there were continuing separate inspection units and monitory bodies for the health service and the separate Local authority Ombudsman system. It was not until the summer of 2005 that the Health Ombudsman announced the appointment of an investigator and suggested how my overall complaint that the death of my aunt had been premature and preventable and that the response of Community and Hospital medical and nursing officers was contradictory, incompatible should be broken down into issues. It was unfortunate that the decision to proceed arrived at the point when I was moving from my ten roomed house on a quarter acre site when I had lived for close on thirty years to a similar sized house, but without the grounds, and doing so on my own, and that the move included the completed parts and outstanding materials for my contemporary art work installation, and involved over 400 boxes.
　
It was not until a year later that I received the draft reports for comment on matters of fact and devoted several weeks to going through the draft line by line to ensure that I could not subsequently be accused of not having raised issues, however trivial, as well as the substantial matters. It was just before Christmas 2006 that the reports to the Government Health Minister arrived and I was confronted with reports which failed to deal with the substantive issues, failed to include significant and available evidence, and had drawn conclusions which were questionable and where other findings could and should have been drawn. It took a couple of months to work out the best way forward and to submit an appeal against the methodology and the findings. It took time for the Ombudsman to agree that a valid case had been made and for the appeal to be allocated and investigated. For at time I received monthly notifications advising why the appeal was taking so long to consider and then as Winter approached was advised that the decision had been taken to move the appeal from the first level to the second and higher level, and I received the first of the apologies letters for continuing delay as further investigations continued. Another such letter is anticipated in the coming week. A four draw filing cabinet is now full with the papers. However it is only one of ten such cabinets to put into perspectives this matter among the many others where the details are confidential, and may well remain so.
　
In the morning I concentrated on some writing and some correspondence, enjoying two tolls with lettuce, a red salad pepper and salami filling and then enjoyed the last three episodes of series three Lost. In addition to the substantive questions such as are the castaways dead, because according to one newcomer who parachuted on the island when her helicopter crashed into the sea, their plane had been discovered with all the passengers dead, there is the question, has Charlie died to bring rescue to the others?
　
The parachuted lass comes from Manchester England, the same city as Charlie, the former band member and, heroin addict who learns to kick the habit on the Island despite finding a crashed plane filled with the stuff hidden in statues of the Madonna. Charlie has established a relationship with Clare and her child born on the island where the other inhabitant are childless because all pregnant women die before giving birth. Unlike the film Children of Men, where everyone woman becomes sterile, except, despite the best efforts of a fertility doctor, only those who reach the island already pregnant. Hence the success of Clare and the interest the older Islanders have taken in her. Charlie learns that there was a memorial service for him and a best selling record produced In Memoriam. However this does not mean that they are in fact dead and could mean a government/organisational cover story to hide the existence of the island from the general public.
　
As series three progressed the new development is the ability of some individuals to see the future as well as reliving their past. Three years ago about the same time as the fertility doctor is brought to the island by submarine, Desmond is shipwrecked on his Yacht race to impress the father of Penelope. He spends he greater part of that time as does Locke subsequently entering a code every 108 minutes which prevents polarity reversing and ending not just the island but the continuation of planet earth. However he recovers his yacht, joins the survivors, attempts to leave the island, fails rejoin the survivors, and begins to have flashes in which he sees the death of Charlie. At first he takes action to prevent the death, but then he leads Charlie into one situation only changing his mind at the last minute, because he believes the venture will lead him to have contact with Penelope who unbeknown to him has used her wealth to mount an ongoing search to find what had happened to him. Then he experiences another future in which the death of Charlie enables the other survivors to be rescued, including Clare and her baby. Desmond attempts to take the place of Charlie in a mission to enable contact to be made with a ship from which the parachuted lass from Manchester has originated and provide them with the information to penetrated the Island's visibility and communication shield, We have previously learnt in the series there is one route which enabled the submarine to leave and return to the Island and which is also the course which one survivor, Michael and his son are told to take as a reward for tricking four leading characters into the hands of those who appear to control the Island and live protected on the other side and with the ability to also move to an adjacent Island.
　
In addition to the ability of Desmond to experience future flashes, the series concludes with the leader of the survivors having flashes of a future in which we know that he and Kate escape, that they are given golden travel passes by the airline and that he has been spending his weekends taking flights over the area where the Island was located in the hope of another crash as he believes they should never have left.
　
This is what the leader of the Others, Ben has been tying to explain, that they should not make contact with the ship because far from coming to rescue the survivors they will come to kill everyone on the island. However because he has proven himself to be a liar and killer, Ben is not listened to and contact has been made. However we also know that although the impression is given that this is a rescue mission organised by Penelope in search of Desmond, it is not.
　
We have also learnt that Ben answers to someone else, a non human being representing the interests of the island and those living there. The series had developed into a power struggle between Locke who does not want to leave the Island one of two survivors who have come to this position, one has cured cancer, previously incurable, and Locke was in a wheel chair bring thrown out of window by his alleged conman father. Locke has a significance to the Island because he seems to have great power, and in the first series we know that he has director contact with a supernatural being on the island, and whereas he has been cured and the apart from the fertility issue the other islands appear to be free of major illnesses and recovery abilities, Ben does not recover quickly from the surgery to save his life. In the series we learn that Ben was also brought to Island as a child with his father by the organisation conducting research, after his mother dies in premature childbirth and where his father blames his son as part of his disappointment and frustration that the job on the Island is only a general factotum workman. Because of this Ben makes contacts with the other inhabitants of the island and plots with them to take over, which involves killing his father and the other through the use of gas. All the bodies are placed in a open grave, Locke realising that his condition could revert to be a mental and physical cripple, destroy the submarine and presses Ben to know more about the Island and the controlling force. Ben sensing his power over the Others is slipping away accepts the demand of Locke to take him to meet the force, only to find that that Locke is able to communicate directly an consequently leads Locke to show him the open burial grave and to shoot him. But is Locke dead, we learn in the last episode of the series that he is not, and he appears to kill the parachutist in an attempt to stop her making contact with her ship. However the leader of the survivors Jack does so, because Locke is unable to kill him, or anyone, and it is this aspect which is part of the way in which the third series has commenced to link the main survivors together, past as well as present. Sawyer who represents the baddies, a conman who has mistakenly killed another man believing him to be the conman who tricked his mother out of money, and caused his father to kill her and then himself believing she has been unfaithful. Sawyer represents the tendency for human beings to become the thing, the person we hate most, the attraction of opposites and the more extreme we are in out lives the most likely we are to become the opposite, extreme right extreme left and vice versa, atheist advocate for a deity, abused the abuser, military man pacifist, wealthy woman a pauper.
　
Ben introduces Locke to the man, he believes is his father who conned him out of a kidney and then through him out of the window, who is on the Island as a prisoner, knowing that Ben will not be able to kill him and therefore he will be discredited in the eyes of the Others. This proves to be so but Locke discovers from the detailed files kept on all survivors that this man is also the same conman responsible for the deaths of Sawyers mother and father. Sawyer has no problem in killing this man whose body Locke takes to Ben to demonstrate his power and influence which in turn forces Bed to take Locke t meet the force and the unsuccessful attempt to kill him. The conclusion of the series also sees Ben explaining to his alleged adopted daughter that the mysterious Frenchwoman who lives alone on the island but helps the survivors from time is her mother, Juliet was aware that her daughter was alive and being raised Ben but delayed introducing herself until this moment. Ben had been trying to prevent a relationship between the girl and boy fearing she would become pregnant and die, but the boy has survived attempts to imprison and to kill him and the girls persuades him to contact and warn the survivors that her father has sent early a group to capture the pregnant survivors, if necessary killing the men and also capturing the other women, Although the survivors had advance warning of the raid through the fertility doctor who has joined Jack and they had a scheme to trap and kill the raiding party, the bringing forwards creates problems and three survivors remain behind to trigger an amended version of the trap. This only partially works and they in turn are captured by the remaining raiders and Ben pretends to have them shot in a desperate attempt to persuades Jack not to use the communication device to the ship. Just when the remaining raiders decide to kill the survivors anyway, one of the other survivors intervenes and with the help other main characters the raiders are killed and he survivors saved for the rescue. Thus all the remaining main characters are involved and survive with the exception of the fate of Charlie.
　
Whereas as Locke appears indestructible as a man who cannot kill directly, there is one agent/disciple of Ben, who we first encounter living alone having direct contact with the outside world who also appears to be indestructible as first he survives the
device preventing entry to the established village where the Others and the former Research organisation personnel lived, then he survives not one but two other situation in which he appears to have been killed, as a consequence of which he is able to ruthlessly kill, including members of his own community.
　
It is this interlinking past and present which is the main clue to unravelling the mystery of Lost, and to remember my opening words to one work on my history and that of my mother, in the beginning there was Adam and there was Eve, and then there was you and me and we are all connected through the past the present and into eternity. To which I will add and nothing is unrelated or unknown, or random and those who argue or say so are wrong.
　
Before going to bed I watched an absurd film which nevertheless reinforced my point about casual linking, A wife hires a detective to discovered why her husband has disappeared and where the first indications are that he has run off with another women, However in part because the detective is attracted to the wife and in part because he too like the survivors in Lost has flashes of things past things future he pursues the matter, first discovering that the husband did not officially exist having adopted the identity of someone else who dies as a child, He is able to piece together that the husband had parents where it appeared the father had murdered the mother and committed suicide and their two children had been taken into care one of whom became the missing husband and the other the detective. The film is otherwise rubbish with stupid detectives believing that the first of two men fount battered to death is the missing husband and probably killed in a joint operation by the wife and the detective who has become her lover, and then is responsible for the death of the husband after attempts to kill the detective and possibly his wife and falls out of the window as seen in the flashes.
　
The day was also productive in completing 11 sets of work related to Mabel, her life, birthday and death, but where the photographing will be undertaken later today, as well as further work and to enjoying the BBC programme in which tribute acts compete to gain public support in order to perform in Las Vegas. The remaining acts are brilliant with one exception which made the public decision to eliminate two difficult. Kylie Minogue obtained the lowest votes leaving the six successful participants, Dusty Springfield, Frank Sinatra, Diana Ross, Tom Jones, Lionel Ritchie and Robbie Williams to chose between Elton John and Cher. Elton gave the better performance but Cher was closer to the original and carried the vote 4 .2. Any of the seven will be worthy winners. I was also able to watch the second of Ross Kemp's active involvement reporting of the work of his father's former regiment in Afghanistan. This is a remarkable series in which Ross is moving to a higher level from all his previous wok on Eastenders, in the special ops drama and reporting on gangs and other documentary work. The programmes on Sky one repeated on Sky two which can be seen by those with digital free view. It merits showing on the BBC channels. one or two or one of the main commercial

1271 The Good Citizen, Eric Clapton and Lost

The day commenced with hibernation weather although here on the coast it was dark and cold with bursts of sleet which did not become settling snow. Elsewhere there were blizzards with at one point one hundred vehicles, the majority lorries trapped behind a blocked main road, so that the police and local authority services had to reach them, turn them around and take them to places of safety until the roadway could be cleared. The fear was of iced roads as temperatures dropped with the fall of night. This morning some homes in Yorkshire were without electricity and 130 vehicles remained trapped along the A66 route in Durham over the Pennines to Cumbria and Lakeland.

One outcome of staying home, battening down the hatches and keeping warm and well fed is that I was able to commence turning previous work concerning he family history of my mother and factual information available about her life, together with photographs and memorabilia about her 100th birthday into project sets, with more to do over the weekend.

I experienced an interesting play, The Good Citizen part of the UK Drama afternoon series and featuring Hugh Quarshie creating his own environmentally friendly Passport to Pimlico by declaring a piece of earth in the English Country a separate territory in which he opts out from the Government of UK. The play is a vehicle for its author to display his prejudices about how governments and the media operates although the overall way in which any government would respond to such action, especially if it has European Legal precedent, is valid. What the author does not understand is how such an operation would be conducted in practice. In the play the government and the media are too open about their methodology and involvement whereas in real life it is all done at arms length by agents who can never be traced. Another approach is to bury the truth under a plethora of possibilities with the most far fetched deliberately planted in order to discredit everything else raised, including what actually happened. In the final scene of the play a High Court Judge decides that the hero should not be detained in a psychiatric hospital because of a threat to his own life and to others, after his estranged wife has agreed to sign committal papers after being threatened to have her children removed to places of safety and being bribed with a highly paid celebrity photoshoot. The substance of the plot, the motivation of the hero and the issues which the play raises merit greater writing. Any episodes of Yes Minister and Yes Prime Minister has greater effectiveness in revealing how the Civil Services and Government Ministers have interacted in the past, and one suspects, to this day.

However it was an enjoyable hour in which I was able to also work.

I was initially disappointed that the daily catch up of series three Lost as the penultimate and final double episode of the series were to come with the new series commencing on Sunday. Then I discovered that the missing episodes are to be shown on Saturday between 1 and 4 pm with the Liverpool versus Sunderland game at 5.15 on Satanta. What a great afternoon in prospect. The sum total of series three is to confirm the belief that the island exists as an interactive dream state, a prolonged dimension between life and death in which we confront our sins and gain the opportunity to show remorse and atone or damn ourselves for eternity. I am reminded of films such as What Dreams may come and Vanilla Sky and also Groundhog Day as some individuals appear wedded to repeating bad choices, despite all the knowledge of inevitable outcomes I eat food which I know will put on weight and I put on weight so I eat more of the wrong food.

In the evening I gave my full attention to a programme about the life of Eric Clapton the only individual to be entered into the Music Hall of Fame three times, through the Yardbirds, through Cream and as an individual soloist. Eric is illegitimate, readily admitting to sense of being an outsider throughout his life, regardless of the loving care he was shown in childhood by his grandparents believing his mother was his older sister. She was only 16 when giving birth through a Canadian serviceman eight years her senior, who after the war returned to his homeland. He only discovered the truth after his mother had married a different Canadian and returned home with his half brother and this had an adverse effect on Eric and his schoolwork. As if to try and make up for the deception his grandparents supported his attempts to play the guitar and a marimba which were given on his 13th birthday. He found learning very difficult and nearly gave up but he had a drive which matched his lifelong sadness which is apparent in much of his music

Like many young men of this era we were greatly affected by American Blues music which expressed our deepest feelings, but Clapton took the interest further than anyone, recording tracks on a Grundig tape recorder and listening and attempting to copy. I used to try and do similar on my clarinet in a cupboard in out flat much to horror of the aunties and neighbours. This was during a time when my windows were covered with Anti Apartheid, War on Want and CND posters. I gave up, he did not, he survived only one year at the Kingston School of Art but that year provided him with the freedom and sufficient self confidence to pursue his need to express himself through music and to establish friends and contacts. He commenced to busk around Kingston, Richmond and the West End. He was able to join a rhythm and blues group The Roosters, at the age of 17 years. He then spent two years with the Yardbirds, leaving before their first commercial hit, but having an established a good reputation among fellow musicians. In 1965 Eric Clapton still committed to playing blues music and hostile to adapting for popular and commercial requirements joining the legendry John Mayall and the Blues Breakers.

In 1966 Eric joined musicians of similar ability for the first time in what became one of the first world super groups Cream and where the extending solo and ensemble jamming became its trade mark. It is a feature of the work of Eric Clapton that he became the authentic rolling stone, involved for a short time in the creation of great music and then needing to move on to new work with new people. Clapton performed with Cream for 28 months, during which time Crossroads was created in honour of Robert Johnson's Crossroads, the blues guitarist acclaimed to this day as the greatest, whose records Eric put on his tape recorder and learnt to try and reproduce chord by note. In the late sixties Eric developed a friendship with George Harrison and they co wrote and played together and guested at each other's concerts. Eric organised and was the music director for the tribute concert at the Royal Albert Hall following the death of George in 2001. With Ginger Baker and Steve Winwood there was an attempt to create a second super group which appeared before 100000 people in Hyde Park in 1969 Blind Faith but it was in the early seventies with a new group Derek, Eric mispronounced and the Dominoes that he helped created what has become his best known single recorded and performance work Layla. At this time he had become infatuated with the wife of George Harrison Pattie Boyd, although she rejected his advances at the time. It was during the 1970's that Clapton readily admits that his life became dominated by drugs and alcohol. The Dominos drummer was found to be an undetected schizophrenic, murdered his mother and was confined to a mental institution where he remains today.

Patti Harrison then responded to Eric's interest and they commenced to live together, marrying in 1979, but although he controlled drug misuse he remained dependent on alcohol. Eric has always been a figure of controversy, especially when he support Enoch Powell's call for control over immigration, explaining his reasons as nothing to do with racism but concern over the tendency of the establishment to invite people to come into the country to undertake badly paid jobs which existing citizens do not wish to do because they can live just as well on state benefits and then concentrating in ghetto's to which I would add, denying until recently, full political and social participation to those who wished o do so. Although he worked primarily as a soloist he continued with collaborations with Jeff Beck and the Secret Policeman's Ball for Amnesty International with other interests included the Countryside Alliance and the Tsunami Relief Appeal, and with Phil Collins, and in more recent times Sheryl Crow (my Favourite Mistake-they remain friends). I had watched the final Phil Collins concert on film before the film on Eric Clapton. I have Phil Collins records and saw him in concert at Newcastle City Hall.

While still married to Patti Boyd he had a year long relationship with another and with whom they had a daughter, a relationship which he had kept secret from his wife, paying maintenance, and from the public until the child died in an accident in 1991. His mistress had been the Managing Director of the Sir George Martin and John Burgess recording studio on Montserrat. After the divorce with Patti Boyd, in 1999 aged 54 he met Melia aged 23 while working on an album with BB King and they married in Surrey in 2002 and have three daughters. In 2005 Cream was reformed performing in London and New York. He wrote music for many films and TV shows. Layla was played in the film Goodfellas and Opel used part of the tune in its advertising throughout the 1990's
Eric acquired some of the world's great collection, if not the greatest collection, of guitars. One of these sold at auction achieved $791,599, another $847500 dollars and a third $959,500. He used some $12 million dollars from guitar sales in 1999 and 2004 to create and maintain the Crossroads treatment and rehabilitation centre in the Caribbean. In the film shown last night he talked of retiring from performances for a time but he is now scheduled for performances in New York in February and a Hyde Park concert in the Summer, park of Hard Rock 2008.

Eric never met and knew little of his father and in 1998 wrote a song My Father's Eyes. A Canadian journalist undertook research and eventually tracked down several members of the family and from these discovered that the man had died in 1985 and that he had been a musician, piano and saxophone, and someone who could never settle. Like father, like son.

1771 Returning to normality

It was a day struggling to avoid being overwhelmed by negativity when I wanted to do anything but what I needed to do and so it is at this moment, even more so, and I attempt to cheer myself up and get myself going with a proper cooked, albeit micro waved, breakfast, having first weighed myself to established that I had not gained as a consequences of the recent trips and self indulgences.

It is 8.50 am Wednesday July 29ths after an unusual night in that I retreated to bed early for me at 10.30pm and then proceeded to wake hour by hour often feeling that I had not been back to sleep but knowing that I had after checking the clock. I cannot remember such an up and down night or one so full of dreams. Yet as I begin to make a list in my head of things to write about I know it was a more positive day than I now feel, and which highlights my failing as a would be writer unable to detach the emotions of the moment from the subjects being written about.

I am not sympathetic to the artistic temperament at the moment, reinforced by watching the second episode about the lives of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood last night on BBC TV 2. In order to watch the programme live I watched in the day room using the camping chair for comfort. My displeasure is at their complete self absorption in becoming successful artists, and having pleasures without any regard for anything or anyone else, apparently. Dante Gabriel Rossetti is portrayed as a liar and a cheat and all as young men who on the surface espousing themselves as a brotherhood found it difficult not to follow their self interest even it meant doing so at the expense of the others. I cannot believe I am writing this in such a condemnatory way given my own behaviour and attitudes over the decades. I can believe that I am writing this in such a condemnatory way.

In the first programme of the series attention was devoted to their struggles to gain recognition from the Royal Academy which was a prerequisite to earning a good living from working full time as a visual artist painter in early Victorian times, just before the Great Exhibition of 1851. As with the majority of such programmes produced under the BBC umbrella there is great attention to historical detail but little reference to what was happening in the country let alone world at large. In the first programme the Brotherhood successfully attempted to gain the attention of John Ruskin who believed in progress as opposed to Sir Joshua Reynolds who had founded the English Royal Academy and was therefore justifiably regarded himself a as custodian of “good” art accepted by his generation. The first programme also concentrated on the search and finding the right model, the young woman to also became an visual painter and a poet, Elizabeth Siddal, the only rounded and truly likeable character although Mrs Ruskin comes a good second.

In the second programme the focus is on the creation of the suicide of Ophelia by the young John Millais which made him and her famous when exhibited at the Royal Academy and he was commissioned to undertake portraits of Ruskin and his wife, and where she had nearly died from laying for hours in water which had become icy cold. The episode shows Rossetti tricking Millais to give him £50 as a compensation payment to the father of Elizabeth so that she would continue to pose for the Brotherhood when the father had only requested £30, using the balance for himself. He then commences his love affair with Elizabeth in which she appears to have been as much the instigator as himself and which led to marriage. More on the Brotherhood another day as there is much to do.

I have just enjoyed a micro over cooked breakfast of two sausages, a piece of bacon, some baked beans, two hash browns and scrambled egg in a good size portion as part of a three for £4.50 offer at Tesco from the usual price of £6 and which I obtained free, well except for the 80 pence cost of the Mail on Saturday which included £10 of Tesco vouchers, £5 of which I was able to use.

It was a good shop as either because of the season, the ongoing costs of living in a hard hit community or more likely because of the impact of the new Asda, there were some excellent general reductions in the cost of fruit and vegetables with a large cartons of grapes at £1 and a variety of melons for the same price, plus a large fresh pineapple. There were two cucumbers for £1 and giant lettuce for 80pence. I bought three chickens for £10 and but paid nearly £4 for .75 of a kilo of gammon. I also resisted by Pepsi or Coca Cola and bought two cartons of orange juice which was not made up from concentrate but has a high sugar content. I have just enjoyed a glass after doing a little work at the back with the plants most of which survived the torrential rains of recent days

The decision to go shopping yesterday in the afternoon caused a little panic as I could not find the remote for the garage/rear door and had to use the standby which is temperamental at its best. I had commenced the trip to London via the back not to advertise my departure pulling the case and then walked the back lane until out of sight and this meant taking the remote with me which I thought I had stored away in the inside of my sleeveless jacket. Several searches of clothing had failed to reveal the remote when required and I was reconciled to having to try and obtain a replacement. Later in the evening I could not resist one more search and found it in the lining of the outdoor coat which had been used on the first day but not since, packed away in the case on the return journey. This was a relief and offset the disappointment when having tried the main aerial direct to the TV the sound was good, but only lasted seconds before going silent once more. This continued later but I will keep tot he plan of watching Test and listening to commentary on radio and internet adn then report the need for repair. To night I will watch Do you know you are , possible on the TV at the top of the house in the bedroom I have not used for over a year because of the additional stairs down to the toilet

I accomplished the clothes washing and drying but must do the ironing shortly. I had wondered about an early morning walk before the forecasted rains, but the sky has already darkened. Yesterday here was no inclination to go a walking but to start to sort out this room and accumulated work for the likely visit of the TV repairers. I did the ironing in two sessions.

The weather forecasters have admitted the promised barbecue summer is now swamped by torrential rains for the greater part of August. This may be a mixed blessing otherwise I would devote the three weeks that I am here to cricket watching and going out in the sun, but I would be fitter. The weather office explained later on the evening news programme that their statement that it was on for a barbecue summer meant there was a 65% chance. Unfortunately this meant 35% chance that it would not. He added that we had not reached August but he was not convincing given that August is usually wetter that July. I remember that the two long holidays in Scotland of three weeks and two rained almost every day. And not just the sudden and brief shower by that continuous rain with low lying clouds creating an emotional dampness and gloom as well as the physical wet. I watched someone retracing the Wainwright Coast to Coast hike through the Lakes, going in September because of the August rain only to find the rain extended into the ninth month.

The delivery of the red lever arch files took place yesterday together with the free cheap digital video camera which relies just on memory cards, but I will leave seeing if this will photo documents and my work cards after I have undertaken some key tasks..
I did work through the material from the trip but have left until later today or tomorrow the making up into a volume. I did this late afternoon after registering the Blog volumes created over the second half of the month. As with the visits to Yorkshire and Nottingham, two volumes and as total of six sets were completed and ready to be photographed. I achieve 100 additional sets during the month which is remarkable given that I was on travels for two weeks. This compares with only 20 the previous month. The explanation si that I allowed a mountain of individual card to accumulated and then created the volumes si that the average for the two months is around sixty to sixty five

I had a mackerel salad yesterday evening and again at lunchtime. have enjoyed one piece of fish with tined veg at lunch times. I also enjoyed one of the cartons of grapes on each day together with the expensive cherries although at £2 are favourable priced compared to those at Marks and Spencer’s and the £5 a pound being charged by stall holders in Oxford Street. In addition there was a tin of pudding yesterday and half a sweet melon today. I had a beef mince hot pot this evening to which I added the remainder of the vegetables used with one piece of fish yesterday.

I watched Cash in the attic while ironing, the programme in which families sell of precious and hopefully valuable items usually inherited, acquired as gifts or no longer considered significant and are therefore sold off, sometimes for a holiday, to contribute to family members leaving home or for some special event including charitable causes. There is usually a reminder that going to auction involves VAT, dealer’s commission and other charges which can reduce the total price gained by 30% thus making direct sale to a dealer not as poor an option as sometimes may appear to be the situation and which is the subject of separate programme Dickinson’s Deals. Cash in Attic has been going for a decade with Angela Rippon and Gloria Hunniford recent presenters. In this programme a family of parents, son, daughter and son in law wanted to raise £1500 for a holiday together in the Lake District before the daughter moved to New Zealand. Alas they only raised £500 as a number of items failed to reach within 10% of the valuation. A feature of the programme is that the outcome of the money raised is then shown, in this instance a holiday. What surprises me is that participants are not paid fees for appearing on the programme.

The sound on Deezer.com has become low so I switched to AOL radio and the Big band station. I particularly enjoyed

Buddy Bragman -It dont mean a thing if it has not got swing
Fletcher Henderson- Grand Terrace Swing
Artie Shaw- The Chant
Cootie Williams trumpet featured on San Juan Hill Duke Ellington, and
Will Bradley Three Ring Rag Out. There were lots of familiar tunes and names creating an afternoon of nostalgia.

The downpour did not arrive until later afternoon and was not as bad as recently or elsewhere. Shots of the cricket grounds where the 20 20 quarter finals were to be played revealed they had become lakes. The forecast is better tomorrow but there is a question mark about the Test starting on time. Now for the TV in the other room, avoiding that I was checked mated at chess after gaining over 40 wins at level four in succession. What was I saying about people so absorbed they become oblivious to the plight of the majority?

1770 The Party is over for July

The party is over, well for July at least, which is just as well as the funds rapidly diminish. The return began well waking early, I shall miss my extra large disability room in
the centre of Croydon. I feel that my trip has been useful as well a enjoyable, despite the disappointment of Sussex losing the Friends Provident Trophy and the three Jazz bands missing the opportunity for a great launch party which the audience could have shared. I did not commence to pack or get myself ready to meet the day until nine and although there was plenty of time I commenced to haul the case up the incline to East Croydon station just after 10pm. I was looking forward to the train trip, the enthusiasm for relaxed coach travel waning for another year as was pulling the large case. The ticket machine was negotiated and I made no effort to go for the St Pancras International train which was at a platform when I looked at the arrivals board but did not leave for another minute or two. I then found that there were trains every 15 minutes in both directions at this time of day, amazing. There was time for a Starbucks coffee.

The train was non stop top London Bridge and then only three or four further stops before the International. There was a family, at least they and the appearance of a family who had been on holiday in the sun, boarding the train at Gatwick and also heading for the International and a main line station- parents in their late forties with three teenage girls, all overweight, with pink cases and one a pink sombrero of the type often worn by a hen party on the razzle dazzle. The parents were left with the cases until requesting help from the girls.

Most passengers with cases headed for the moving staircase so I followed on. At the top I could not release a trolley and a staff member saw I was having difficulties and needed a special key and several attempts before one was released, having advised at his request that I wanted to take the luggage over to Kings Cross. Making way through the International Mall with announcements in French and English there was an end seat vacant in the central area so I parked the trolley and eat the chicken pieces and cherries, bringing the remains home with me, having forgotten they were in the bag until finding a rubbish bin. I had passed the remains of the meal the previous evening to the cleaner at the lodge who checked that I was leaving Lodge completing my visit around 10 am but on the train I was reluctant to add to the burden of one women was small personal bag over her shoulder who spent the journey going backwards and forwards filling several see through sacks with rubbish, piling them up by doorways as the journey progressed. She also cleaned out the toilets before reaching Newcastle. A new system is now in operation by the beleaguered National express railways with three ticket checkers forming a line on the platform after the Leeds train departed and the announcement made that the adjacent train was the 12.30 for Newcastle stopping at Durham, Darlington, York, Northallerton, Doncaster and one other stop after Kings Cross or was it two! No ticket collectors came during the journey although there was at least one staff member available for advice and the refreshment trolley passed by at least twice.

The rain stopped as I approached the crossing of the road between the two stations and the sun came out briefly. I then found a seat close to the departures and arrival’s board waiting for the noon train to Newcastle and Scotland to depart and moving to work out the likely platform just before the 12.10 Leeds train was on its way. My first reaction was the I had been allocated an old carriage as on either side there were compartments with seats of some style however I came to the conclusion that the old fashioned styling was intentional as there was a super loo of the type with a circular door and the need to press two buttons to close and then lock the slow moving door. The arm rests were fixed parts of the seats, but they were comfortable and there was a mobile phone charging unit as well as a computer electricity plug. I was set on reading Sons and Lovers. The seat next to me remained vacant for the whole journey.

I did read a substantial number of pages reaching the point of his interest with the young woman fro the farm, Miriam, based as much of the book on his early experience and accurate depictions of his parents brothers and sisters, death of his older brother and going to work at the surgical appliance and good’s factory, I enjoyed the remaining pain aux raisin with a purchased coffee and then a packet of crisps.

I did pay some attention to the other passengers with pride of place going to the mother of young Freddie. She and another young woman had two push chairs, lots of luggage also pink and five children between them. Freddie was being treated as adult despite his reluctance to get in his push chair. At the departing station she was met by an man much older than herself and she gave him an exceptionally long and passionate matrimonial kiss. He also greeted the children in a manner which also suggested he was not their father and before arriving at the station she called their father asking him to take them so she could begin her holiday. I wanted to know more about this situation.

There was a lot of young people, many with back packs getting off the train at York and also many people getting on the train for the minutes journey to Newcastle. Surely the university was already down? I wanted to know more.

The lift at Newcastle Central Station was out of order and the information assistant on Newcastle station he Metro was nothing to do with them. Someone from the Metro came to my aid hearing clung of the case as I took down the flights of steps one step at a time. The second lift to the platform level was working. Getting on to the train people of all ages rushed to get the available seats regardless of my predicament getting the case over the wide gap and the notices about giving up seats to the elderly, disabled and to mothers.

At some point an older man tackled someone who had put their foot on the seat drawing his attention tot he notice asking for this not to be done. The culprit asked if the man worked for the train company or the police. The other man commented that he bet his house was tip. He was invited to visit the house. Did I detect menace in the voice. I was facing the opposite direction when the incident happened and two men left at Hebburn station leaving a third reaching for his mobile phone.

I have forgotten to mention that the Labour Party had a resounding loss at Norwich with the young conservative woman aged 27 winning and becoming the youngest member of the present Parliament. It emerged that Labour had only investigated five of the number over the expenses scandal and all had been told they would not stand again at the General election. It looks as if Sir Jeremy Beecham was in charge. Selection of the five appears to have been made the Chief Whip and Part secretary but one cannot imagine that the Prime Minister did not have a say so. Local people were supporters of the man to be deselected given his contribution over the past decade. There is some surprise that the Conservatives are doing so well and not the Greens who had hopes or the Liberal democrats.

I watched the Foreign Secretary address an audience in Nato explaining British political strategy in Afghanistan. It is the first time I heard a full speech by him and he came across better than the usual sound bites which usually lack gravitas. Only later when catching up on the last Prime Minister’s Question time before the Summer Parliamentary recess did I appreciate the issues of Britain’s continuing role in Afghanistan and the relationship with Pakistan had been the subject of the exchange between the Labour and Tory political leaders. I thought Mr Miliband’s exposition of the complexity, the interactivity and the need for a prolonged thorough programme of political and social activity was the best heard on the subject and only served to reinforced the questionable value of P.M.Q’s.

Back home it was time to make an account

The cost of the Coach to London was £20,70 (£20.70) return although I chose to take the train back to get home for the quarter final of the 20 20 competition. I was sent two copies of the coach ticket, the cost of the Travel Lodge accommodation at the Royal Scott Kings Cross for three nights was £58.50 (78.50). The two day stay at Croydon Travel Lodge was only £18 (96.50) The Taxi to the Royal Scott plus rip came to £23 (119.50) and the taxi from St Pancras International to London Bridge was £16 (135.50) The train home cost £36.95 for the single journey (172.45) The fare to the 02 and back was £5.60 (178.05), From London Bridge to Croydon on Saturday and return on Monday was 2x £4.40 (186.85) Thus accommodation and travel for five nights, six days. £31 a day

The cost of the ticket for the Friends Provident Final at Lords was £52 (52) plus programme £5 (57) and the O2 Indigo Jazz concert £30.05 (87.05). Cinema Ticket for the Informers £6 (£93.05). 280.90

For food and drinks I did not keep records other than receipts so much is from memory. Service station bottle water £1.20 (1.20);Coffee Tillisi £1.50 ( 2.70), Water Trocadero £.20 (3.90) Three Peroni Beers O2 £7.20 (11.10) Diet Coke Travel Lodge Croydon £1 (12.10) J20 Sunday £2.25 (14.35). Cabernet Sauvignon quarter bottle £2.25 (16.60) Coffee Sat morning £1.80 (18.40) Coffee Lords £1.50 (19.90) Diet Coke Lords £2 (21.90) Cherry Diet Coke London Bridge £1 (22.90) Coffee train home £ 1.80 (24.70) Coffee Starbucks Croydon Station £1.80 (26.50) 307.40

Two MS Chicken Pieces and Olives £5. 4 Pain aux Raisin £1.90 (6.90) Cherries £3.49 (10.39) Breakfast at Travel Lodge £7.50 £17.89. McChicken Meal £3.80 (21.69) Cherries £3.39 (25.08) Spicy Chicken wings £3.65 (28.73.) Crisps £1 (29.73) (sandwich Crisps and Danish £3.80 (33.85) Bacon and Egg Roll £4 (37.85). Pan au chocolat £.85 (38.7) 345,40 plus flannels £3.82 total £349.22) approximately £58 a day.

I returned to find the Television sound behaving erratically and then dying. I had rushed back for the cricket and had to watch with the interne commentary on the computer. Kent won the toss and had an excellent start getting 50 runs of the first five overs. Durham then fought back and when Kent only managed 150 having looked like getting 180, the game appeared to swing in Durham’s favour however the Durham batting collapsed, especially Warner got off the plane from Oz to join in the game only to be out for a zero. What a waste of money. It was a humiliating defeat. On the bright side Sussex beat Warwickshire under the lights, making up for the debacles on Saturday. The crowd were disappointed with the fall of wickets and a score of 150 fearing the worst again, but this time bowlers triumphed and Warwickshire never looked liked getting close to the total required.

I was too tired to go out for milk and food so had soup with crackers, some fish and some pudding rice with some olives left over as a starter. I felt something of a chill and took a good ration of Scotch as a defence. The was a horrible long list of things waiting to be done. The party was over.

1769 The multi racial capital of the world

The day began and ended with good food and in between there were bus rides which provided considerable insight into the changing life of the capital city where I believe that the next national census will confirm that the majority are no longer of all white origin or with British born parents, beyond grand parents.

I could not resist the buffet break at the Travel Lodge and enjoyed a bowl of grapefruit segments and two helpings of the cooked dishes with four sausages, two or was it three large slices of bacon, scrambled eggs, some tomatoes and mushrooms, with two cups of coffee and then a third with a croissant and jam. I took my time and unlike some did not overdo the toast, croissants and such like. There was no fruit available or Danish pastries and while I might have enjoyed some grapes, the pastries would have been for later. There were muffins which have become popular with the children.

On return late afternoon I called in at Marks and Spencer’s West Croydon where for five pounds there was a special offer of two cartons of chicken pieces and a carton of olives. There were other combinations on offer of three items five pounds, including cold meats and cooked fish. I also bought some cherries, pains aux raisin and a quarter bottle of cabernet sauvignon. This covered food for the evening and for lunch on the train home. I also made two cups of tea and purchased some ice cold coke from the machine along the corridor.

I had no plans for the day and the weather was better than anticipated I decided to opt for bus rides and for the city centre than the countryside. I walked along the quiet streets to the West Croydon bus station. I chided a man who was stopping people to ask for help and this included a young woman coming in our direction who looked most afraid when he told her he had been in hospital for ten years. I encouraged her to move on while I explained to him why whatever his circumstances he should not approach strangers in this way, especially young women and counselled him to go for help to the nearest hospital or police station. I was tempted to ensure that he did this but again resisted taking further action. There was no direct daytime bus to central London so I caught one to Brixton station. This took a route different to the main road which I had sometimes used when travelling by car North Croydon, Thornton Heath, Norbury, Streatham with its Common, and then Brixton. Over recent years my preference has been for the route which goes to Tooting and Mitcham, then Beddington when heading for Wallington or Croydon via Thornton Heath. They all have their traffic blackspots and one has to allow an hour and more whereas the train journey is under 40 minutes to Wallington and can be half this time to East Croydon. In the morning we travelled more on a residential route which where the traffic was less but long, hot and tiring, nevertheless. As it happens the journey back, on a different bus route travelled the traditional way along the main shopping streets with their hundreds up hundreds of restaurants and traditional public houses.


From Brixton to Oxford Street and back the buses followed different routes, one the taking Stockwell Road to the new bus station before the Vauxhall Bridge and passing by the former Middlesex House onto Victoria station, passing the rear of Buckingham Palace and Marble Arch and the first part off Oxford Street before turning Northward. The second bus commenced on the same side of Oxford Street as on arrival and then went down Regent Street at Oxford Circus, along Whitehall to the Westminster Bridge, and the Imperial War Museum in Lambeth before passing close to Kennington Oval then Stockwell and the Brixton Road passing the Police station, the centre for Operation swamp the stop and search of West Indian Black youths in 1980 and which led to a spontaneous riot in which 300 people were injured, shops and cars set ablaze, consequence of racial discrimination and poverty among the primarily black West Indian community and which was reflected strongly in the local police force, and which took another two decades to be fully recognised and effectively tackled. There was further rioting in 1985 when police armed in riot gear raided a house and accidentally shot the mother of the man they were seeking.

As with Parliament, and the military services, the police and professions such as the law, there is significant under representation of non whites and women in general in terms of the demographic reality. All a decade of Labour has done is to increase the gulf between rich and poor and diminish the opportunities for social mobility.

During the past 25 years the demography has changed beyond recognition as the West Indian community is only one of the racial and cultural groups dominating south London which I know best, but applies to all other areas of the capital.

White people were only one in ten to twenty on the four buses and then the language spoken was not primarily English. In fact English was only spoken by one white family and the West Indians, who were divided between those in casual clothes and those in their best Sunday outfits with suits, shirts and ties for the men and colourful hats for the ladies as well as suits and best dresses. There were more Africans than I have experienced before and more from the Far East. There were fewer from central Europe. There were more Muslims than anticipated.

The most noticeable aspect is that everyone appeared to be at ease with everyone else and the care and attention given to children, including by men was a joy to behold. One white woman offered her seat to an elderly Blackman and there was some evidence of great recognition of age although some non whites took seats for aged, inform and mothers with young children regardless. All four buses became crowded, yet push chairs and luggage did not raise problems. The streets are packed with buses and along oxford Street, with taxis. One problem in central London is that the route through the capital which one can take without paying the congestion charge is understandably a crawl during the times when the charges apply.


Most people travelled for only part of the journey. Three African women with two children one a baby who was fed with loving attention travelled almost all the way from Croydon to Brixton. One of the rare English conversations was a great delight as a son with his teenage daughter was taking his mother to Victoria Coach station because of the absence of the relevant underground line for weekend works. My interest began when father drew the attention of the daughter to the O2 Academy as we left Brixton High street. She had mentioned the Disciples which I thought being Sunday was the religious context rather than a long standing Brixton Reggae movement. My impression was that the mother lived in Cheltenham and had recently taken to coming up on day trips to attend matinee performances and was considering doing this more often. The son was insistent that they should arrange something special for a forthcoming birthday while mother did not want speeches, did not wanted a fuss and wanted family and all the children rather than friends. The son said it was for her to chose who would be there but he was not promising about speeches and he wanted to arrange caterers. My impression is that he was a recent arrival in the area and ideally would have liked somewhere even more central, with Soho mentioned. Most of the other conversations I could not understand and there was less using of the phone than expected although still quite a lot.

On Friday I had made a similar type of journey, this time going across westward passing the new Covent Garden Market along the way to Clapham and Lewisham. A black woman had said hullo to a white young woman who was struggling to manage her three young children, struggling in the sense of managing three youngsters, one in a buggy, on and off a bus when it starts to rain. The black woman asked about the child who had been in hospital. It had rained so hard that it was impossible to cross from one side of the road at Clapham by the station. These travels brought out the vastness of the capital with its hundreds of local communities.

At the last census in 2001 30% of the 8 million Londoners. over two million, were born outside the UK, and to which had to be added, those born here with parents and grandparents born form outside the UK nations. There are 300 languages spoken and over 50 communities with 10000 or more people from other nations gathered together. I believe the 2011 census will astound the nation with the extent of change during the past decade.

I did stop for a J20 in a deserted pub just off Oxford Street in part of Soho as I had existed from Marks and Spencer’s by mistake at the rear. I had hone into the stored remembering that I need to replace face and hand towels as my existing pair and become tattered. One tourist family had entered checked the menu and departed. Fish and chips were on offer for £9 while a little away along there was a specialist fish and chips seller with take away for £5 and eat in for £6. Oxford Street was busy but not as busy as on weekend days and Saturdays. I could not help noticing an Arab clothing store with a man and two female assistants standing outside when I arrived and when returned from my walkabout standing outside on the pavement with no customers inside despite a 50% reduction sale.

I did watch the last part of D Day the sixth of June and the last part of the Comancheros having gone to sleep in between. I listened to Keane some Bach Concertos for piano and cello, Duffy’s Rockferry and some Billie Holiday. I decided not to pack and going to bed I pulled the alarm chord instead of that for turning off he bathroom light and within seconds a member of staff called in and showed me how to switch off the alarm. It has obviously happened before, many times, but I felt a fool again.

1768 It was not about the cricket

It quickly became a challenging day after a brilliant start. I was awake, packed, feeling good and all well before seven. It was warm but cloudy although the atmosphere suggested sunshine was on the way. I stopped with my case on a deserted road apart from occasional vehicles to cross over and post the letter I had brought with me. I also noted the name of the coffee shop where I sat at a street table on my first morning-the Tassili.

Better still having reach the west side of Kings Cross here was a bay with three or four luggage trolleys on the street and I took one for £1 and saved a lot of puff for the rest of the way along the front of the station, crossing over the road and then down the side to the entrance to national and suburban St Pancras where I was the only approaching the left luggage at ten minutes past seven. I was asked to open the case when disclosing that it contained lap top to check that it was not on and there were not other electronics. I joked that I had taken the battery out of the clock for similar reasons.

It was time for coffee and pan au chocolat at Starbucks. I could not open the top of the coffee and a young Asian woman, part of party of other who looked younger came over to assist although for a moment I misunderstood my intentions and thought she had mistaken mine for hers. She was successful in opening but spilt hot coffee over her hand such was the force required to open for the sugar. I thanked her apologising for the spill.

Close by there were some comfy armchairs and I selected the last one with a table and settled to enjoy both. A young woman was reading from another armchair at another table, also on her own. Then a grey haired woman who I judged about sixty came and asked if she could use the table for her coffee having sat at a third armchair a little to the side. Her accent was American. At first I continued to finish the coffee which was very good- also an Americano. I could not resist saying to her are you from the United State. She apologised for her country I said it was one of the great nations of the world and like Britain it had its shortcomings. I was soon telling why this was a special day, a pilgrimage of a kind and she was enthralled with the story I told her. It was becoming a better day by the moment. The omens for the cricket were encouraging.

Then she told me part of her story. She was with a tour /family party from the USA, arriving midweek, I mentioned the weather forecast of an exceptional good day. She was visiting as a present from her son who logically would be around forty: she did not mention being with her own partner or the son with his family. They were scheduled to travel to Paris for a couple of days and then return for a few more days to England. It was a trip of a lifetime or should have been. The son had developed all the symptoms of what she was convinced was the Swine Flu. She had been in contact with the American Library who had advised to get a thermometer. The Boots chemist nearby was said to have a new supply in the morning. The opening hours were from seven but of course on a Saturday it was later eight. It was approaching eight. I was anxious about being in her presence and about her son and their holiday and the likelihood of being put in quarantine. I did not want to cause alarm but she appeared unaware of the sudden doubling of cases from 50000 to 100000 Mail on Saturday which had advertised £20 of vouchers at Tesco’s . When I returned the chemist had opened and she was at the counter explainer her predicament. I hoped she in good hands and I continued on day the edge having been removed, but only to a degree. It reminded that if the media was correct in up to 100000 households there was panic and severe anxiety.

I made my way out of the station crossing over the road to catch a bus to Baker Street station when I believed I would be able to catch a bus to Lords. I had to walk a little way to a road at right angles because of the one way system where there was choice of four or five buses although not the first as I joked with two other men who were on the same trail with over the shoulder bags of a substantial nature. One checked with the bus driver when the next arrived and he said it was about a five walk away. It was more than that although not more than ten at a good walking pace.

There are only a couple of shops in the area and the local tobacconist newsagents local store only had a couple of packets of sandwiches available although sandwiches were advertised. I bought I small carton of Pringles’ crisps and a Danish pastry.

I was once again at the home of cricket the most import cricket venue in the world agreed by every player from every country throughout the ages. The ground was ready for a full house, or almost. The gates were opened within seconds of arrival and a security steward looked into every compartment of my shoulder bag which I had to open and then a male steward did a body check by hand. The sun was out and it was a very fine morning with a live group playing by the nets which were adjacent to a large screen like Wimbledon and the food and drink area. I enjoyed a bacon and egg role with some Brown sauce and then had another coffee. One stall would be selling Veuve Cliquot champagne. Another was selling beer, Pimms and sane brand champagne for £35 a half bottle around £ 65 for bottle and over £100 for a magnum. There was a smaller stall selling rum.

Before going for second breakfast I had found a bench next to band and looked at the excellent value programme which cost £5. Given the cost of the ticket and accommodation this was going to be a £100 expenditure day.

Around ten am I made my way to allocated seat in the Grand Stand which sides on to the playing area. I missed the fact that there two lifts at either end of the stand and made by way up the stairs where at each level, there were three, a steward checked and placed a blue wrist band tight over my right hand on which was written Grand upper tier. I could put my ticket except to find my seat. The grant part is the price and that one has access to two bars and a restaurant, but not toilets on this day which were being kept for the hospitality boxes. The stewards, waiters and lift staff called everyone sir and well dressed and groomed. My seat was in the middle of a row between aisles and at the back. Next time I must ring rather than used the internet and ask about the location. It was bird’s eye view, not good. I would move if possible. Concern about the height viewing level was shared by others.

Sussex won the toss at 10.30 and elected to bat on what said to be a good wicket. The Hampshire captain admitted he would have dome the same. Those around me were divided between the two teams. I explained to one neighbour my neutrality as a Surrey man who became a Durham member who adopted Sussex along with Nottingham, was supporting Sussex although had sympathy for Hampshire who Durham had beaten two years ago and given Hampshire Members a bad day to remember.

The game was effectively over within the first hour as both Sussex openers were effective and the aging Dominic Cork brilliant taking the first three Sussex openers including England’s Pryor for 39, 30 30 and 39. When the fourth wicket fell at 43 and the fifth at 77 you knew it was already over and that the team managed to make 219 for 9 in the 50 overs was due to Captain Mike Yardy who made 92 and everyone gave him an outstanding ovation when he was eventually out.

Hampshire in contrast did lose their first wicket until their total was 93. They won by six wickets with over 9 overs to spare. It was one sided from almost the first ball and everyone except the most partisan of the Hampshire supporters had wanted an exciting and close game. It was not.

After the opening debacle I had waited another half an hour before going down to the toilet after discovering the lift and then queuing for a diet coke for close on twenty minutes as the bar men took their time as a matter of policy. Rather than return to my seat I notice one spare a couple rooms from the front on the aisle and checking it did not belong to someone who had popped out. It was a very different view still too far away for my liking but justifying the price. I only had the seat for half an hour when the tickets holder arrived causing a return of others to their seats. I found another a little way back and found myself among a party of about five men of mixed ages with lots of food and drink, whose language was inappropriate for a mixed and young audience. The view was great but the company awful. I felt sorry for those seats were around them and retreated back to my original seat for the last overs of the innings. I should have then taken my bag with me as I found there was a choice of seats at the back of the lower Compton Stand behind the bowlers arm. However here are two draw backs. The first is that one is more in the shade than the covered ground stand and on a different day it would have cold. I had such an experience at a test match there once before. The main draw back is that one cannot see the scoreboards and these days the two replay screens. To make up for this there is small notice board where the number of the batsmen is given in red lights plus their totals together with the overall total and wickets fallen. This service is OK but with a little investment it could be a lot better. I stayed there until the first drinks break of the second innings and collected by bad advising neighbours of where I was going and the availability of other seats.

The second advantage in addition to being able to watch cricket on a similar basis to that at Durham is that I had chosen the stand with Sussex supporters and I learned to sing, I am up to win the cup for Sussex by the sea. There were few opportunities to burst into the song though. With what was only five overs before the loss I needed a comfort break and found several hundred people sitting on the grass and watching the big screen. I decided I would not stay for the bus rush and made my way out of the ground when there was a few minute wait for a bus to Baker Street and then around the corner for a bus to the British Library and across to St Pancras where I would find a trolley after getting a ticket. As I let Lords I noted two black long legged young lasses in the briefest of hot pants one of whom insisted on handing me a card despite my saying I am too old for whatever it is. She said but you will be very welcome. It was a VIP entry pass to the Spearmint Rhino Gentleman’s Club in Tottenham Court Road. I knew just the group who would be interested.

Then Disaster. There were no trains to London Bridge weekends from St Pancras and the stated bus service was not operating. I could go by Tube which involved a long passage way and stairs or catch an ordinary bus from outside of Kings Cross. I found a trolled but decided to invest in a taxi as I crossed over the road between the mainline stations. I guessed that the roads to and through the city would be quieter than across the West End to Victoria. This proved to be so and the basic fare was £13.60 plus tip. There was a choice of trains for East Croydon and I decided on a drank and made the only bad decision of the trip. I selected a diet cherry flavoured coke by mistake. It was vile. After arriving at the Travel and adjusting to my room I went out to McDonalds around the corner for a McChicken meal and a diet coke unflavoured by the cherry. My room is set aside for someone in a wheel chair. It has three windows each with control to open and open and close the curtains. There is room for a married couple and half a dozen children such is the space about three times the size of a normal room. I loved the walk in shower with flip down stool.

I have enjoyed listening to Duffy’s Rock ferry Album twice. Last night while writing I enjoyed Dire Straits, Acker Bilk and Chris Barber.

I did it Mabel rest in peace. Pity about the result.

1767 Kings Cross Regeneration and the degenerate

It is after 9 pm and I am in Croydon on a Saturday evening. Instead of writing about my day I want to go back to the night of arrival on Wednesday and rediscovering the area of London that is Kings Cross, my visit to Houseman’s and home of Peace News, of my experience at the cinema on Thursday afternoon, and of a quiet Friday.

I arrived at the Kings Cross Travel Lodge late and by taxi. I remembered little of my previous stay and the first surprise is that the corridors, the doorways and the rooms have been given an uplift by adding a mahogany décor. However I also noticed that there was no chair so that one had to sit uncomfortably at the end of the bed to use the lap top on work on the bed which was also uncomfortable. I was told by reception that there were no chairs in the rooms but I was able to take one of the lighter ones from the dining room bar lounge and this made a significant difference.

I have stayed at Travel Lodges for at least three decades and it was on my most recent visit that I encountered a coach party, for a wedding, suggested by the attire and attention to hair and make up of the ladies, the suit and ties of the men. The former Royal Scot Hotel Travel Lodge has a desk for groups. One implication of this is late arrivals and early starts. On my previous visit I had an outside room and there was some street noise late into the night. This time the room looked into a triangular courtyard with access for Taxis and some private vehicles. It is a feature of those using this kind of establishment to stand talking in the yard so everyone can hear and to continue to do so in corridors whatever the time of day or night and then to place do not disturb notices up on their doors. Fortunately I was tired on the three nights of my stay from travelling and from activity and was able to sleep well.

I must mention the contrast with my present room which is on the first floor or close to the reception area and care bar, but there is no noise. I have been allocated a room used by those wheel chair disabilities. It is a giant room with no one but three large windows. The king size bed takes up less than a quarter of the space. The bathroom toilet area is equally spacious with a walking shower. The clothes wardrobe and other facilities have been designed for those who spend most of their time in a wheel chair.

It was only as I left the motel on Thursday morning that I remembered my location on the King Cross Road. It is about ten minutes from the station. Between the Lodge and the station there are perhaps twenty places to buy snacks, breakfasts and other meals. There are media businesses and the Poor Drama School for would be actors and actresses. It was also a notorious area for drug use and prostitution. During my walk to the Travel Lodge after midnight on Thursday evening there were indications on drug peddling and this morning around seven there were two women who had been together but then went in different directions who I may have misjudged their profession but I think not. However the area is set to become the greatest land travel centre in the UK due for phased completion in time for the Olympic Games. There are three major stations within half a half and two separated on by one road. Kings Cross station serves Scotland and the North East of England. The fabric of the station has been allowed to deteriorate for many years. Now there is a vast army of workers set to transform in the same way as St Pancras International, National, and Suburban.

St Pancras has been transformed but work is still going on at the from to create apartments and a hotel. The Penthouse is going for £10million. There is now a joint Underground station serving the two main lines and with links also to Euston so that five of the eight main Underground lines across the capital are covered.

St Pancras has become the central London station for Channel Tunnel Trains and the main thoroughfare of shops and restaurants is now fully functions. The trains operate from the first floor level and at one end there are trains to the Midlands. Below stairs so to speak at the far end the International is the new development with a large wide concourse with access from the main roads at either side of the station and a separate taxi service from that serving Kings Cross. Marks and Spencer’s, Boots and Smiths have large station area stores here together with a range of coffee shops and a Sushi bar. There is the latest left luggage centre where this morning the case had to be opened to confirm that the lap top was not on and to identify any other electric devices. At Lords this morning every compartment of my shoulder bag was opened and checked and I was given a full body search. At the 02 centre all hand luggage including bags are scan checked and the latest hand held body scanner is used. Euston station which is relatively modern serves the West Midlands and the North West and Glasgow Scotland. There is also a large area behind the two adjacent stations of former industrial use described as brown land which is being developed.

Along the main road between the three stations is the comparative new British Library Building. Several decades ago the former senior solicitor South Shields, and subsequent chief solicitor South Tyneside became a member of the NALGO national executive and helped acquire their headquarters building. Now a purpose designed new headquarters for UNISON, the former NALGO and NUPE unions is at an advance stage next to Euston Station. There are a dozen or more bus services going east wards to the City of London, into the central areas of the West End and over Thames Bridges into South London, and westward to Paddington which serves Oxfordshire and the West Country. There are buses going into North London and buses direct to Victoria and London Bridge stations.

There are inexpensive hotels such as Travel Lodge with three in the immediate area, Premier Lodge and Novotel as well for the Youth Hostel Association. There are also several internationally known restaurant along one side of the main road fronting the three main line stations. It will be appreciated that the authorities have and continue to take action remove the criminal and sordid aspects of parts of this area.

During the past thirty five years I rarely went outside Kings Cross Station except to walk the short distance along to the separate Kings Cross London station which has now moved to the far end of St Pancras International. However in the late autumn of 1959 I was offered a temporary packing Christmas cards and assisting in the Houseman’s bookshop, which led to joining the weekly sending of copies of Peace News to subscribers and making the acquaintance of Peace activists

On my first outing on Thursday I went along the Caledonian Road and Houseman‘s was just opening so I decided to return later on the visit. I checked the left luggage facilities at Kings Cross and St Pancras and then realised I had failed to shave. On the way back to the travel lodge I had called in and found the store celebrating its 50th year only having opened earlier in the year when I had been given the temporary job. Peace News continues to be published but on a monthly basis rather than weekly.

The Trocadero in Shaftesbury Avenue between Piccadilly Circus and Leicester Square has seen better days and at present is an odd combination of a tourist fleece market on the lower floor, amusement arcade fun fare at the top and Cineworld Shaftesbury with standard releases and some international at a reasonable price of £6 concession for the heartland of the West End.

For a period of two years when visiting my mother in residential care at Sutton I took out an London monthly subscription to Cineworld, sometimes seeing two films on one day of my visits to see her. My last visit was to see the second Che Guevara film. I was attracted to seeing the Informers because of Billy Bob Thornton, Kim Bassinger, Winona Ryder and Mickey Rourke.

After arriving with 15 mins to go and finding I was the only customers I was then surrounded mainly by men, with one youngish woman on her own and one couple. The opening was puzzling with a series of disconnected scenes and it was only afterwards in the Cineworld magazine that I noted the headline of Greed, sex, drugs and violence in 80s LA and that the film is based on, on the Bret Easton Ellis first novel of the same name and covers the loosely connected lives of seven super rich morally challenged Hollywood players in one week in 1983.

This an awful film, unoriginal and suggests that the film rock pop industry of Hollywood is corrupt, criminal and contemptible.

Billy Bob plays a Hollywood Mogul who has left his wife, Kim B, for a TV front woman, Winona R, and then negotiates a return to his wife Kim B to avoid the costs of his divorce and the growing seriousness of Winona who is messing up her professional life. He then wants to take up again with W R when he sees her at restaurant where he is dining with his two adult children. The daughter wants her brother to stop the situation having had to support her mother when he left and knows any getting together will be short term. Little does she know how short term. Kim B is no saint herself with a young stud who does the pool and who she keeps his interests with picking up his tabs. She tells him no more with family reunion although the daughter or was it some speaks out that the parents might become a couple again but never a family. KB success out the situation and agrees to go to a Benefits where errant husband plans to meet up with WR once more in order to take a closer look at the woman and then tells Billy Bob to pack his bags for good.

A Hollywood based rock group are called informers where the lead singer is on drugs and is found in bed with underage teenagers, boy and girl and in the book rapes a chamber maid. He has an accident in the bathroom and has people looking after him. The band is on tour in Japan.

I worked out that the hotel receptionist was bought up by a paedophile in the desert who he may have captured when only a boy. The man turns wanting a place to stay while he does some profitable work. The man has an underage girl with him who look out of her mind on drugs. He kidnaps a to order boy off the streets who he keeps at the home of the hotel receptionist until someone calls for the package. The receptionist pretends he does not know what the paedophile gang leader is talking about when he calls and as the man has already been paid he insists they all escape back into the desert or be killed. He insists the boy has to be killed and the receptionist fakes this to let him go.

I think Mickey Rourke plays Peter a young man forced to have a holiday with his estranged father. Father appears to have little difficult in picking up two Bimbos in search of good time adventure less than half his age and about the same as his son, but the son is not interested. Instead he takes an interest in someone he recognises and brings her to dinner to meet father. However she and father disapprove of his smoking and manner sop he goes off in a huff, the girl decides it is best not to stay, son tells father they have nothing to talk about and their relationship, whatever it was in not repairable.

A young man has become emotionally attached to a girl who has some disease and who is sleeping around in a situation where there are threesomes and foursomes between bisexuals. The girl appears to be dying on the beach refusing to admit to her sickness and get help. There appears to be attempted links. Which failed to recognise or understand and afterwards it was evident that some preparation for the experience might have saved concern that I was dim and failing to see what everyone else could. The problem with the film is the sum of the parts equals the sum of the parts. At best it is a voyeur’s film for film voyeurs. I did not regret the payment or the passage of time as there appeared to be nothing else to see other than Harry Potter which I had in mind for Sunday, especially if I was tired and the weather was bad.

I did watch Chicago again late night which has some catchy tunes and is an indictment of the preoccupation with celebrity, especially criminal celebrity, and on Saturday Coach Carter which is an indictment of the USA system in which black young people are encouraged into sport rather than into college in areas of worst segregation and poverty. Who is this film aimed at well black kids living in ghetto poverty I guess but which only underline to the parents with money and nonce that they need to move into different neighbourhoods so their kids get a better than 1 % chance of avoiding crime, drugs, prostitution and the hand out.

This reminds that having mentioned Soho sleaze past and present as I left Lords yesterday heading for the bus to Baker Street, my path was blocked by two tall starling beautiful black young women in tight hot pants who gave me a card saying I would be very welcome before I had time to make my usual comment about being too old for the disco or whatever they were selling. It was a VIP pass for the Tottenham Court Road Spearmint Rhino Gentleman’s Club. I kept as a souvenir of an interesting day which I will write about next.