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.
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.
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