The two remaining days of my short visit to London have been a mixture of good and not so good choices which worked out amazingly well when someone provided information that I had considered seeking.
Because some of the most important facts of my creation and early experience have been lost with the passing of key individuals and their failure to keep records, I am left with a sense of incompleteness. That is why of all recent Do you Think Know who You Are programmes I was glad I missed the major part of the episode this week such pain was created yet such necessity was there. Kim Cattrall is a face I know but her history was not something I wondered about and therefore it was interesting and surprising to learn that although born in the UK her mother had emigrated to Canada and that she had become more North American than British, The dark secret which affected the life of her mother and the two sisters of her mother is that their father and her grandfather had disappeared and nothing had been heard of him since her mother was a child. They did not have a photo.
The programme search revealed her grandfather had bigamously remarried and had children in Australia. Her mother and aunts who were together for the programme therefore had half brothers and sisters neither of which knew about the other. There were photographs of this new family. The programme captured that real sense of wanting to know and shock when the truth, or at last what it is now possible to find out about the truth is revealed. It affects all the life that has gone before and how one sees, thinks and behaves from that moment depending on the levels of insight, understanding and education of the individuals directly involved.
The alternating weather continued with the prospects of torrential rain throughout Wednesday but I missed the downpour while watching the latest Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. I will catch up on the film, along with the Street, Harry Patch and Millais, Hunt and co later or when I return home. On Thursday the weather opened uncertain and then became hot and sunny again.
On Wednesday I returned to Wallington, my boyhood home. Woolworths where my care mother auntie Harriet worked and which is now an Iceland store. Along by the Wetherspoon, The Whispering Moon which used to be the Odeon Cinema where I attended on Monday and Thursday evenings, the Saturday morning special children’s shows and occasionally at weekends, there is now a second Chinese restaurant and even more surprisingly one from Nepal. I remember when there was one tea room in Wallington, large houses with gardens and now there is also a Spanish restaurant, the Italian Pizza, the Irish pub and half a dozen others, as well as Franks Fish and Chips which used to supply my birth and care mothers over the last two and a half decades of their time together. Most of the large houses have become flats, many for the single person living on their own for the first time, or the first time young couple..
Lunch on Wednesday was near Mitcham at an establishment where my birth and care mothers had a memorable extended family lunch towards the end of their lives together. The established has become a Toby House Carvery and I enjoyed roast beef, roast potatoes, cauliflower, mushrooms, onions, runner beans, a spoon of apple sauce and blackcurrant jelly and gravy plus two glasses of diet Pepsi.
I nearly did not get to see the Harry Potter showing at the Empire Sutton as the little local bus which went around the islands but stopped outside the cinema broke down with a faulty rear indicator. At one point the driver said it looked as if they were not able to fix the rear indicator and it would be taken out of service so we all left and walked a quarter of a mile to another bus route, only to see the original bus zoom past a few minutes along the way. It may have been taken out of service or it may have been fixed. A 93 three year old lady explained how she came to be on the bus I and other displaced travellers eventually got on and which had been waiting at the turn around station two thirds of way between the break down and bus stop into Sutton. She found the walk very difficult and had persuaded the driver of the bus to let her sit and wait until it was time for him to move to start stop once more. The Cinema show had commenced on arrival but only as far as the trailer for the Wife of the Time Traveller.
On the journey back to Wallington from the cinema it was evident there had been a torrential downpour. Two boys between the aged ten and twelve with skate boards boarded on their own and created a major nuisance. Telling them to be quiet only made things worse. I was the train to London Bridge when I made the first of several poor decisions over the next 24 hours. I decided it would be quicker to get off at West Croydon, walk through the town and up the hill to East Croydon and get the Brighton to Bedford train to St Pancras International. This I did, then found that the short cut through the shopping centre was closed, that the local Tesco had just closed by a few minutes before and that I had missed the next train also by a couple of minutes. I made use of the loo and bought a sandwich comprising cheese and pickle, ham and lettuce which I eat slowly one half and then the rest on the train. I will never know if I had stayed on the train until London Bridge if I would have caught the same train there or the earlier one.
I was asleep by midnight despite having dozed off several times during the film and missed at least one key explanation and solution and then only had one rising during the night waking only at 8.30. This was the longer period of such sleep within memory and reflection of all the walk and travelling undertaken. I did not need the fan on overnight. I did not watch Do you Know who you are until the closing moments but cannot remember what caught my attention instead. I checked after writing this down and remembered it was the English Football playing a 2.2 draw friendly in Holland, James Milner, previously of Newcastle, came on towards the end in his first full international performance and immediately created chances one of which led to the second and equalizing goal. The latest rumour is that the Ashley mob are selling Stephen Taylor to Everton. How Ashley appears to now hate the club.
I did not spend much time in planning my day on Thursday except to work out the location of Cadogan Concert Hall and the address of London Transport Loss Property-200 Baker Street. The lateness of the start after finishing some notes meant that choice had to be made between heading immediately for Sloane Square or the Lost Property, Having just missed the 73 bus to Victoria Station I caught the next bus, the 453 which went to Baker Street. The problem is that I had forgotten my geography again and that Baker Street involved going across North London. My mind wandered and I passed the stop continuing to Marylebone station. I have never used this station which remains the smallest and newest of the London mainline terminals, excluding the recent redevelopment of St Pancras. The trains from here serve the midlands to Stratford, Bicester, Banbury and Birmingham and also to Shropshire and Wrexham in North Wales, The station has recently increased passenger traffic from 7 to 11 million a year.
By the time I reached Baker Street I knew I would not be able to attend the loss property centre before the scheduled lunch time jazz concert at the Cadogan concert Hall so caught the first bus into central London, getting off at Oxford Circus and investing in a one way ticket on the Tube. I ought to have thought further and got a one and two zone travel card, It was the second poor judgement ,did not think clearly, decision of the day. I was to buy one later. I arrived at the Cadogan Hall just after 12 and found the large bar area prepared for trio, electric piano, base and drums, and few low level tables and twice as many high tables and stools. There were about half a dozen people in at that time. I had debated getting a sandwich and a drink from a kiosk or going along to MS but settled for a Gruyere or was it Bruyere cheese and chutney quartered sandwich without crust and a bottle of Peroni. I thought this had cost the greater part of ten pounds for the greater part of the rest of day until realising when I got back to the hotel it was under £5. This assumption spoilt my mood. For the first part of the concert I moved from the high stool to a carpeted alcove stretching my body out over the steps. It was comfortable compared to the previous position. The problem was the music, a problem which others shared so that I was one of the majority who left at the ten minute interval. The group called Curios was said to have been voted the top jazz group in some BBC poll or award. It was an ideal day for their kind of music hot and their jazz cool, but theoretical, of mind and technique, full of counterpoint and not a tune in sight. Abstract contemporary, worth listening to but later in the day, with chilled wine, but for me not then. It was not a disappointment just the wrong choice. I was hungry and scooped up almost a whole bag of fashionable crisps that a trio of executives had left, two men and woman in black outfits, brief cases, talking while the musicians played, agents, in the business in some way, not critics, I speculated? There was an older man on his own like me but who had brought his lunch as did others, who had obviously been before. They bought coffee or a drink. There was a mother with two girls around six to eight I would guess, wife and daughters of one of the musicians I wondered. There were no more than £30 people present at the beginning, perhaps a dozen after the interval, but I had gone in the sun again by then.
I went to see what was on at the Royall Court and the play Jerusalem, a take on present day England looked worth seeing. A chalked notice said the performance lasted 3 hours and ten minutes from 7.30 and included two intervals. The matinee and evening performances were sold out and I overheard an assistant tell a gentleman that if he came to between 3 to 4 he was likely to get a return seat, but this meant of the order of a three hour wait in the sun. I would go to Baker Street for the lost property, then to Leicester Piccadilly where there a dozen, at least show ticket sellers at cut price to premium.
I got a bus to Victoria train station and by the side opposite the theatre showing Wicked, the Apollo? Then the 82 noting I had to get out at Gloucester Place, this brought me to the Marylebone Road and Baker Street Station. The lost property office was on the north side of Baker Street an unimposing office where there was a counter with two women behind computers and queue lane but no queue, only me. There was a separate desk for collections and payments.
I was asked a series of detailed questions about the type of glasses and frames, make and any other identifying features, the case again seeking the most precise detail. The more refined the information the greater the ability the programme to show up possibilities. The centre covered the whole London Transport net work. The lady carried on the search for five days after my date of departure. There was nothing similar. I had failed.
It was time to cheer myself up so I headed for Leicester Square. The bus would take me to Piccadilly. I should have gone for the one I travelled which cut through rather than went along Oxford Street. I got off and walked from Oxford to Piccadilly Circus. I had noted the Langham Hotel on the bus journey. The Langham is regarded as one of Europe’s luxury hotels and which had recently undergone an £80 million make over. It has 380 rooms and suites where you pay between £500 and £1000 a night for two with deals which include a car from London airport one way, champagne, romantic goodies or family goodies depending on the package. My room had cost £9 a night with an additional £1.50 credit card addition for the four nights.
Having made the effort and seen what was on offer I debated going to see Blood Brothers again. The most inexpensive show on offer was Pornography at the Tricycle for £10. This is a play not about sex but about the lives of people on the day of the London bombing with monologues more directed at the audience than between actors. Had I known this at the time I would have gone to experience as it sounds similar to Jerusalem. At one kiosk I overheard an enquiry check if the assistant had said the price of a show ranged from £16 to 45, No he said £60. There was a gasp. Welcome to the realities of London town.
It was then I decided to go back to the Royal Court and check confirm the position for myself and to invest in a one day zones one and 2 travel card. No I was right there were no seats and two people were already queuing in the hope there would be returns. I had a walk around the Square while I though about joining them. A man was taking a photo of his wife and daughter outside Cartier. I thought this was tempting the fates as the papers were full of the discovery that the two men filmed as they carried out the £40 million jewellery robbery and wore high class alternative face masks. I stopped at the entrance of the fine church to admire the stained glass above the altar. The Square area is small and up market and appropriate for Sloanes. I saw one tall stick thin young woman stride by with the deportment of a model. There is David Mellor Cutlery, glass and kitchen ware and I wondered if this was a branch of the reincarnated David Mellor Politician? I have always wondered about the exchange between David Mellor politician and Brian Roycroft and others at a Directors of Social Services Conference held in Durham when Peter Tritline became President and when Mellor was a leading Minister. I had been tipped off by a senior colleague of the Social Services Inspectorate that there was trouble brewing and to lay low but never found out what the fuss was all about and of course shortly afterwards he was the subject of tabloid interest and then lost his seat.
It was at this point I made what turned out to be the right decision. I would use the Travel card to return to the hotel, buying food on the way and write, perhaps read, chill out by the fan and reflect. I was disappointed with what was available that the M and S close to the arrival point of Euro tunnel Paris train and fascinated by a man from Claridges and curious who he was waiting for. This proved to be a tall and elegant aristocratic looking French Couple. I have always considered Claridges to be more up market than the Langhams. I am tempted by one of their wine dinner evenings at £170 a head, especially that featuring wines from the estate of Baron Rothschild. I rather liked the sound of the Davies Penthouse with its butler service and his and her kings size bedrooms with separate walking in dressing rooms and ensuite bathrooms, 1750 square feet, plus terrace. Of course if you need to ask the price you cannot afford to stay there.
I settled for a pack of soft rolls and Pate for the journey home, a large tub of spicy chicken wings and four pain au chocolat and then two cans of ice cold Pepsi from the local newsagent stored just before arriving at the Hotel. The cost which included the previously bought carton of Greek olives and feta cheese with two bottle of water acquired later came to £14. I needed two bottles of water with the second to take away the taste of the first which was laced with orange and mango flavouring. Yak!
I had left St Pancras and was outside Kings Cross when I remembered that I needed to post not one but two birthday cards for relatives with a birthday on the same day. I was shocked to find that Smiths at Kings Cross had been reduced in size by at least two thirds and had no cards. I remembered that Peace News had cards and found just what I considered appropriate, The opportunity was taken to have a good look around the books and pamphlets and while many titles had changed some had not over the previous fifty years. I bought one of the remaining copies of the book by Kate Hudson on the story of the post second world war Peace movement. The assistant typed up a bill for £122 instead of £12 which required a void and during the sorting out I could not resist mentioning that I had been given a temporary job over Christmas fifty years ago, The assistant mentioned Harry Mister who was indeed the individual who had taken me on after consulting Hugh Brock then the editor of Peace News. The assistant then asked if I knew someone who after fifty years and my previous visit the month before I had contemplated asking if the individual was still involved. I was given the address and telephone number. It made my day and rounded off the visit nicely. I decided that I would write. I felt the need to explain why I had changed and adopted views contrary to those that I had then as well as views which were just as strong and become more profound.
Because some of the most important facts of my creation and early experience have been lost with the passing of key individuals and their failure to keep records, I am left with a sense of incompleteness. That is why of all recent Do you Think Know who You Are programmes I was glad I missed the major part of the episode this week such pain was created yet such necessity was there. Kim Cattrall is a face I know but her history was not something I wondered about and therefore it was interesting and surprising to learn that although born in the UK her mother had emigrated to Canada and that she had become more North American than British, The dark secret which affected the life of her mother and the two sisters of her mother is that their father and her grandfather had disappeared and nothing had been heard of him since her mother was a child. They did not have a photo.
The programme search revealed her grandfather had bigamously remarried and had children in Australia. Her mother and aunts who were together for the programme therefore had half brothers and sisters neither of which knew about the other. There were photographs of this new family. The programme captured that real sense of wanting to know and shock when the truth, or at last what it is now possible to find out about the truth is revealed. It affects all the life that has gone before and how one sees, thinks and behaves from that moment depending on the levels of insight, understanding and education of the individuals directly involved.
The alternating weather continued with the prospects of torrential rain throughout Wednesday but I missed the downpour while watching the latest Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. I will catch up on the film, along with the Street, Harry Patch and Millais, Hunt and co later or when I return home. On Thursday the weather opened uncertain and then became hot and sunny again.
On Wednesday I returned to Wallington, my boyhood home. Woolworths where my care mother auntie Harriet worked and which is now an Iceland store. Along by the Wetherspoon, The Whispering Moon which used to be the Odeon Cinema where I attended on Monday and Thursday evenings, the Saturday morning special children’s shows and occasionally at weekends, there is now a second Chinese restaurant and even more surprisingly one from Nepal. I remember when there was one tea room in Wallington, large houses with gardens and now there is also a Spanish restaurant, the Italian Pizza, the Irish pub and half a dozen others, as well as Franks Fish and Chips which used to supply my birth and care mothers over the last two and a half decades of their time together. Most of the large houses have become flats, many for the single person living on their own for the first time, or the first time young couple..
Lunch on Wednesday was near Mitcham at an establishment where my birth and care mothers had a memorable extended family lunch towards the end of their lives together. The established has become a Toby House Carvery and I enjoyed roast beef, roast potatoes, cauliflower, mushrooms, onions, runner beans, a spoon of apple sauce and blackcurrant jelly and gravy plus two glasses of diet Pepsi.
I nearly did not get to see the Harry Potter showing at the Empire Sutton as the little local bus which went around the islands but stopped outside the cinema broke down with a faulty rear indicator. At one point the driver said it looked as if they were not able to fix the rear indicator and it would be taken out of service so we all left and walked a quarter of a mile to another bus route, only to see the original bus zoom past a few minutes along the way. It may have been taken out of service or it may have been fixed. A 93 three year old lady explained how she came to be on the bus I and other displaced travellers eventually got on and which had been waiting at the turn around station two thirds of way between the break down and bus stop into Sutton. She found the walk very difficult and had persuaded the driver of the bus to let her sit and wait until it was time for him to move to start stop once more. The Cinema show had commenced on arrival but only as far as the trailer for the Wife of the Time Traveller.
On the journey back to Wallington from the cinema it was evident there had been a torrential downpour. Two boys between the aged ten and twelve with skate boards boarded on their own and created a major nuisance. Telling them to be quiet only made things worse. I was the train to London Bridge when I made the first of several poor decisions over the next 24 hours. I decided it would be quicker to get off at West Croydon, walk through the town and up the hill to East Croydon and get the Brighton to Bedford train to St Pancras International. This I did, then found that the short cut through the shopping centre was closed, that the local Tesco had just closed by a few minutes before and that I had missed the next train also by a couple of minutes. I made use of the loo and bought a sandwich comprising cheese and pickle, ham and lettuce which I eat slowly one half and then the rest on the train. I will never know if I had stayed on the train until London Bridge if I would have caught the same train there or the earlier one.
I was asleep by midnight despite having dozed off several times during the film and missed at least one key explanation and solution and then only had one rising during the night waking only at 8.30. This was the longer period of such sleep within memory and reflection of all the walk and travelling undertaken. I did not need the fan on overnight. I did not watch Do you Know who you are until the closing moments but cannot remember what caught my attention instead. I checked after writing this down and remembered it was the English Football playing a 2.2 draw friendly in Holland, James Milner, previously of Newcastle, came on towards the end in his first full international performance and immediately created chances one of which led to the second and equalizing goal. The latest rumour is that the Ashley mob are selling Stephen Taylor to Everton. How Ashley appears to now hate the club.
I did not spend much time in planning my day on Thursday except to work out the location of Cadogan Concert Hall and the address of London Transport Loss Property-200 Baker Street. The lateness of the start after finishing some notes meant that choice had to be made between heading immediately for Sloane Square or the Lost Property, Having just missed the 73 bus to Victoria Station I caught the next bus, the 453 which went to Baker Street. The problem is that I had forgotten my geography again and that Baker Street involved going across North London. My mind wandered and I passed the stop continuing to Marylebone station. I have never used this station which remains the smallest and newest of the London mainline terminals, excluding the recent redevelopment of St Pancras. The trains from here serve the midlands to Stratford, Bicester, Banbury and Birmingham and also to Shropshire and Wrexham in North Wales, The station has recently increased passenger traffic from 7 to 11 million a year.
By the time I reached Baker Street I knew I would not be able to attend the loss property centre before the scheduled lunch time jazz concert at the Cadogan concert Hall so caught the first bus into central London, getting off at Oxford Circus and investing in a one way ticket on the Tube. I ought to have thought further and got a one and two zone travel card, It was the second poor judgement ,did not think clearly, decision of the day. I was to buy one later. I arrived at the Cadogan Hall just after 12 and found the large bar area prepared for trio, electric piano, base and drums, and few low level tables and twice as many high tables and stools. There were about half a dozen people in at that time. I had debated getting a sandwich and a drink from a kiosk or going along to MS but settled for a Gruyere or was it Bruyere cheese and chutney quartered sandwich without crust and a bottle of Peroni. I thought this had cost the greater part of ten pounds for the greater part of the rest of day until realising when I got back to the hotel it was under £5. This assumption spoilt my mood. For the first part of the concert I moved from the high stool to a carpeted alcove stretching my body out over the steps. It was comfortable compared to the previous position. The problem was the music, a problem which others shared so that I was one of the majority who left at the ten minute interval. The group called Curios was said to have been voted the top jazz group in some BBC poll or award. It was an ideal day for their kind of music hot and their jazz cool, but theoretical, of mind and technique, full of counterpoint and not a tune in sight. Abstract contemporary, worth listening to but later in the day, with chilled wine, but for me not then. It was not a disappointment just the wrong choice. I was hungry and scooped up almost a whole bag of fashionable crisps that a trio of executives had left, two men and woman in black outfits, brief cases, talking while the musicians played, agents, in the business in some way, not critics, I speculated? There was an older man on his own like me but who had brought his lunch as did others, who had obviously been before. They bought coffee or a drink. There was a mother with two girls around six to eight I would guess, wife and daughters of one of the musicians I wondered. There were no more than £30 people present at the beginning, perhaps a dozen after the interval, but I had gone in the sun again by then.
I went to see what was on at the Royall Court and the play Jerusalem, a take on present day England looked worth seeing. A chalked notice said the performance lasted 3 hours and ten minutes from 7.30 and included two intervals. The matinee and evening performances were sold out and I overheard an assistant tell a gentleman that if he came to between 3 to 4 he was likely to get a return seat, but this meant of the order of a three hour wait in the sun. I would go to Baker Street for the lost property, then to Leicester Piccadilly where there a dozen, at least show ticket sellers at cut price to premium.
I got a bus to Victoria train station and by the side opposite the theatre showing Wicked, the Apollo? Then the 82 noting I had to get out at Gloucester Place, this brought me to the Marylebone Road and Baker Street Station. The lost property office was on the north side of Baker Street an unimposing office where there was a counter with two women behind computers and queue lane but no queue, only me. There was a separate desk for collections and payments.
I was asked a series of detailed questions about the type of glasses and frames, make and any other identifying features, the case again seeking the most precise detail. The more refined the information the greater the ability the programme to show up possibilities. The centre covered the whole London Transport net work. The lady carried on the search for five days after my date of departure. There was nothing similar. I had failed.
It was time to cheer myself up so I headed for Leicester Square. The bus would take me to Piccadilly. I should have gone for the one I travelled which cut through rather than went along Oxford Street. I got off and walked from Oxford to Piccadilly Circus. I had noted the Langham Hotel on the bus journey. The Langham is regarded as one of Europe’s luxury hotels and which had recently undergone an £80 million make over. It has 380 rooms and suites where you pay between £500 and £1000 a night for two with deals which include a car from London airport one way, champagne, romantic goodies or family goodies depending on the package. My room had cost £9 a night with an additional £1.50 credit card addition for the four nights.
Having made the effort and seen what was on offer I debated going to see Blood Brothers again. The most inexpensive show on offer was Pornography at the Tricycle for £10. This is a play not about sex but about the lives of people on the day of the London bombing with monologues more directed at the audience than between actors. Had I known this at the time I would have gone to experience as it sounds similar to Jerusalem. At one kiosk I overheard an enquiry check if the assistant had said the price of a show ranged from £16 to 45, No he said £60. There was a gasp. Welcome to the realities of London town.
It was then I decided to go back to the Royal Court and check confirm the position for myself and to invest in a one day zones one and 2 travel card. No I was right there were no seats and two people were already queuing in the hope there would be returns. I had a walk around the Square while I though about joining them. A man was taking a photo of his wife and daughter outside Cartier. I thought this was tempting the fates as the papers were full of the discovery that the two men filmed as they carried out the £40 million jewellery robbery and wore high class alternative face masks. I stopped at the entrance of the fine church to admire the stained glass above the altar. The Square area is small and up market and appropriate for Sloanes. I saw one tall stick thin young woman stride by with the deportment of a model. There is David Mellor Cutlery, glass and kitchen ware and I wondered if this was a branch of the reincarnated David Mellor Politician? I have always wondered about the exchange between David Mellor politician and Brian Roycroft and others at a Directors of Social Services Conference held in Durham when Peter Tritline became President and when Mellor was a leading Minister. I had been tipped off by a senior colleague of the Social Services Inspectorate that there was trouble brewing and to lay low but never found out what the fuss was all about and of course shortly afterwards he was the subject of tabloid interest and then lost his seat.
It was at this point I made what turned out to be the right decision. I would use the Travel card to return to the hotel, buying food on the way and write, perhaps read, chill out by the fan and reflect. I was disappointed with what was available that the M and S close to the arrival point of Euro tunnel Paris train and fascinated by a man from Claridges and curious who he was waiting for. This proved to be a tall and elegant aristocratic looking French Couple. I have always considered Claridges to be more up market than the Langhams. I am tempted by one of their wine dinner evenings at £170 a head, especially that featuring wines from the estate of Baron Rothschild. I rather liked the sound of the Davies Penthouse with its butler service and his and her kings size bedrooms with separate walking in dressing rooms and ensuite bathrooms, 1750 square feet, plus terrace. Of course if you need to ask the price you cannot afford to stay there.
I settled for a pack of soft rolls and Pate for the journey home, a large tub of spicy chicken wings and four pain au chocolat and then two cans of ice cold Pepsi from the local newsagent stored just before arriving at the Hotel. The cost which included the previously bought carton of Greek olives and feta cheese with two bottle of water acquired later came to £14. I needed two bottles of water with the second to take away the taste of the first which was laced with orange and mango flavouring. Yak!
I had left St Pancras and was outside Kings Cross when I remembered that I needed to post not one but two birthday cards for relatives with a birthday on the same day. I was shocked to find that Smiths at Kings Cross had been reduced in size by at least two thirds and had no cards. I remembered that Peace News had cards and found just what I considered appropriate, The opportunity was taken to have a good look around the books and pamphlets and while many titles had changed some had not over the previous fifty years. I bought one of the remaining copies of the book by Kate Hudson on the story of the post second world war Peace movement. The assistant typed up a bill for £122 instead of £12 which required a void and during the sorting out I could not resist mentioning that I had been given a temporary job over Christmas fifty years ago, The assistant mentioned Harry Mister who was indeed the individual who had taken me on after consulting Hugh Brock then the editor of Peace News. The assistant then asked if I knew someone who after fifty years and my previous visit the month before I had contemplated asking if the individual was still involved. I was given the address and telephone number. It made my day and rounded off the visit nicely. I decided that I would write. I felt the need to explain why I had changed and adopted views contrary to those that I had then as well as views which were just as strong and become more profound.
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