Peter Ridgley
Bucuresti . Friday, January 28, 2000
Seven months have passed, hardly know where, trying to compress those seven months of thought and aggravation if you like. Certainly there has been aggravation ..there have also been some rather interesting moments at the other end of the spectrum. August… decided we were rushed and needed someone to help. After a perhaps rapid succession of young ladies who only perceived the position as a place to unload their troubles, especially to myself when Cynthia was at work. Approached in Romana one wet and windy day by this rather wild looking young woman, obviously under pressure, desperate and quite nervous, then one would hardly expect to find someone sleek and composed looking for a housekeeping job. Still remember the encounter .. mainly the way she clenched her hands and screwed up the furrows between her eyes .. her hair had nothing to thank the weather for. walked on ..hardly interested, so far as I was concerned, Sir Galahad slightly stiff in the limbs, his armor rusty and the horse out to graze after the battering with the AndreeA affair, Intended no more damsels in distress to be rescued …thank you very much.
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Cynthia hung back chatting to her in the now pouring rain.. then she always had more patience in her little finger than I have in my whole body. She deciding the girl had some possibilities having made quite plain we were not interested in her obvious troubles…. if she were interested simply to work…….. ? Late August, decided needed a break.. needed some sun, sea and anything else which goes with it. Asked Cynthia to telephone our not quite so tense “housekeeper “ ask if she would like to go to Costinesti for a few days, the girl quickly concurring. The look on her face realizing Cynthia was not coming with us as the train slowly left Gara De Nord, she out on the platform, waving and smiling until we curved out of sight..
Anyway.. back to reality, almost completely closed the door on England, that tiny island. Escaped from that humiliation …….. from being a foreigner in my own Country. Today, in deep white snow, went to the Yugoslav embassy, offered a couple of copies of my comments on the Kosovo fiasco..
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Back in bed for the afternoon, warm here, comfortable here, well looked after.. what is my problem…? Even look forward with equanimity to my seventy first birthday.. few of my friends have made it this far.. most of them are dead ..faded away. Barry still working seven days a week....Ron from Slough, highjack by his bankrupt son and grandchildren, they will never let him escape while he is sitting on a quarter of a million. A few others hang on ..John the coat.. hardly feel he will see fifty. A few more have made it so far as the Isle of Wight.. no further.…The "judge" bought a villa in Spain, but he in deep mire over that. Barry, beautifully set up in St Albans.. at the cost of his eyesight.. Another “long day man “ A longer one on Sundays. He had incredible operations on both eyes which are hardly the topics for discussion ..Told , as everyone, to stop smoking, as everyone, he has ignored this ..still 60 a day. A blind determination to achieve precisely what ?? at whatever cost. He lives mostly other people’s lives ..knows details of mine which I have long forgotten ..often asks “How old is Mark now ? ..”twenty eight.” .”Impossible !!” he always says. ….considering he used to bounce the boy on his knee in John’s café. Believe he has finaly seen the light after my gentle hints about his “retirement…!!” Decided he also will go precisely so far as the others.. along with his lifelong friend “Deaf Terry”. .and “Isle of Wight Bill” who quite suddenly, quite recently, dropped dead at the wheel …53.. finding that driving from Ryde to London ..add to that a twelve hour shift.. is hardly a sinecure.. suicide, rather more descriptive . Their problem .. they work without really seeing a end …where they are going …unable to see the wood for the trees.. The beginnings rarely know their ends. 4
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It is 4.p.m on a Saturday evening in February.. Odd to think of these men now starting the shift through the night as I did for so very many years, odd to think I have escaped that drudgery, that penalty.. that I am sitting here so very far away ..so very far away from the clamour of Shaftsbury Avenue, the belching fumes of the endless Oxford Street busses .. Kings Road on a Saturday evening, every one in a “frightful hurry” . Immaculate "Sloane Rangers" armed with mobile phones, Channel perfume and a soft, deceptive smile. Endless gentle lies in reply to endless calls. I sit, expressionless. No need to watch them in the mirror, not the slightest interest, no way put out by their quick changes of destination, their urgency.. their complete matter of factness… No, my “Lost Horizon" achieved….But time has passed ..so long ago, would never have known where Romania was or of its existence.. Heard of the Balkans, remember how they featured in the newspapers during the war.. Hitler as others, became rather bogged down by them. Romania, foretold in my existence. When I was nine my father insisted I play the "Blue Danube" to perfection on the piano.
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Anghel Saligny bridge on the Blue Danube at Cernavoda, Romania, built 100 years ago
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Talking to a old lady some time ago, very pleasant old lady, 86 years , all her faculties firing. She came around to asking how I found Romania, or how it found me. My answer being I saw the film.. as a child in the then so splendid “Regent” picture house at the top of Well Street.. “Lost Horizon”… Said I could not recall who was in the film, she immediately came up with “Ronald Coleman” such is her brain. How, the story went, they were all in a plane lost over some high mountains in the snow, crash landing in a strange land .. I flew over the Carpathians in the snow and landed in this strange country.. fifty years behind the times, still having its own culture, its own ways, almost a gentleness after the abrasions and greed of the West. Found it wonderfully refreshing, a sense of disbelief over the simplest things long swept away in England by the impact of the aliens. …………………………………………………. ………………………………………………….
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Carpatian mountains view from Poiana Brasov
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A strange trio, odd situation perhaps,.. Glenna, Susan and myself, with Jack being fostered by a professional minder.. just up the road from Susan’s mother’s house in Bishops Stortford, we allowed to see him perhaps a couple of times a week, he apparently not at all put out, enjoying the company of the other children, the powers that be, hardly thinking Susan capable of looking after him,.. as said previously, as the father.. not even considered…then that is England, a matriarch society, a few men left who do not cling to the female skirt. There are those gone fully the other way, openly, right to the top of government and society, perhaps now a prerequisite for any serious consideration in the twenty first century, only a faint smile remaining at any mention of Lord Byron. In Romania they bang them up…in prison, discipline and values have not gone rotten here, may be a poor country, but they cling to what little they do posses.
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For whatever reason, decided to move myself, went out and bought another old cab.. so I had two. Cornered Rodetski in the café, put it to him, he would like a ‘cheaper” cab, cheaper than he was paying, when he did pay, that is... thought could overcome his reluctance in this aspect . So, it was two cabs, Rodetski and myself…Two became three, three became five ,five became twenty two. They were good days in the trade, early eighties. I finished up with drivers no one else wanted because of their reluctance in the cash department. For whatever reason they did pay me more or less, I, running something like a club for destitute taxi drivers so far as they were all concerned. Certainly Romeford Dave regularly painted the alternator silver and said he had bought a new one, trying to charge me the $50. Certainly he, Alan and Billy Kelly would put all the money due to me in the Granby fruit machine over a period of two days and one night, they taking shifts to pull the lever.. or one would go out working to get more money to feed the insatiable machine. In a more desperate moment Alan bandaged his arm up ..not the one he pulled the fruit machine lever with, saying he had been unable to work. Wednesday night most of the fleet parked up in a long tidy line outside Walthamstow dog track, invariably the gang would all file despondently out, having done their bollocks . It meant running about on the motor bike catching up with them at their favorite hide outs.. or going into the betting shop before they did my money. Sounds like hard work.. a very friendly atmosphere ….It paid.
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Stopped doing my own repairs. found a Mr. Salih, a Turkish man and his three son’s in law…In a archway in Bethnal Green, must be several hundred railway arches doing cab repairs In that first flush, in the first year, with a few cabs, things going so well, decided top take Susan for a holiday.. by plane , disregarding her petrified looks.. it took very little to frighten Susan , she had never flown previously …charter flight to Yugoslavia on the cheap . I had not had a holiday for years, mainly because I did not work sufficiently, hardly concerned me one way or the other, there was, however, this wind of change, my last trips abroad had been those to see Mark In LA, a long time ago. Became quite determined to do something, go somewhere. Glenna rather upset at my not intending to take her along. Hardly saw myself handling the situation of a rather large black lady and a rather diminutive white one all dancing about together in Yugoslavia. So it became a matter of suitably bribing Glenna, everyone has a price…a consolation prize, if you like, Remembered my Father coming down to Stony Stratford during the war, where my mother, Doris and myself were all shoved out of the way.. He brought a couple of pairs of kippers.. my mother, who was not enamoured with country life, screamed very loudly at him, she, "not wanting his consolation prize for being stuck in a dead and alive hole!!" first of all hitting him with the kippers, then a chair and finaly the kitchen table, saw him in hasty retreat into his lorry “down the roads again” burning up the diesel to Coventry. 14
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Hardly wished Glenna to see my offering in that light, stepped carefully. Must have come up with something suitable, cannot recall what that something was . Yugoslavia appeared rather tense, everyone at the airport carrying a weapon of some kind. The weather, quite glorious, hot. Susan apparently fully recovered from the silent months. She, looking good, dancing the nights away, the local gigolo’s queuing up for her. Her birthday ….think she was 38.. The dining room held a couple of hundred people reminiscent of Butlin’s. It was alright, ordered up a birthday cake. In the evening they wheeled down this really quite huge cake, all the faces smiling and clapping.. happy birthday and all that jazz, Susan quite taken back, so was I , come to that. A very happy period, I became all romantic.. Can anyone imagine .. Peter ..Romantic..! must have had a touch of the Sun. The Churches made a big impression , far from the coldness of the C of E mob. We went in one of them ..suggested, off the top of my head that we became married there, do not know how we actually did not get married in that church, what finaly stopped us, we so carried away especially as I have never been one for churches since my escapade in Canterbury Cathedral when I was ten ..still that’s another story.. Rather a twist of fate I should get married just up the road.. ten years later…… to someone else, in a place called Romania. No, Susan and I never did quite make it…… which was perhaps fortunate. ################################ 16
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Susan’s mother, who invariably opened the street door dressed as if expecting the Queen for afternoon tea, became almost “friendly” towards Peter for want of a better word…. She saw the transformation in her daughter, saw the boy becoming bigger and bouncier. Talk of letting Susan have the child back providing it was taken to the mother’s house. the mother very keen on this arrangement, she having the most attractive bungalow, slap in the middle of town.. worth a cock eyed fortune. The past, apparently forgotten, the Sun shone… only the dark shadow of Glenna who by now getting very up tight, she seeing which way the tide was running, it culminated in rather a surprise for Peter. I had this, or I have? perhaps I still have, not quite sure ? yes, have this affinity for young women, as so many other men, if they but dare admitt it. Glenna completely aware of this. To compliment my penchant, she had the ability to chat these creatures, charm them out of the trees.. not quite mesmerize them…follow her like the pied piper, maybe. Glenna lived at the YMCA Tottenham Court Road, wonderful gymnasium. Would sit, drink my coffee and watch her contortions, tricks, jumping up and down, running round and round, she incredibly athletic, not a ounce of fat on her.
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She would sit with me after these exertions. follow my eyes, see where they were resting, whom they were resting upon, which particular female. Having assessed the position, she would quite casually walk over to whomever, sit down and start chatting, quite comfortably.. simple as that. Occasionally, the chosen girl would nod, go off, get dressed and we three would saunter out to the cab, drive up Tottenham Court Road, Camden Town, Holloway, Finsbury Park, Manor House, down into Darkest Hackney. Up the thirty nine steps and so all into bed. Not always so lucky.. nevertheless, something which brought a smile to my face. Always deeply interested me to watch Glenna chat and then perform………. She became more and more morose, believing I was about to ditch her for my new status in Bishops Stortford…..things were by now going so well up there, Susan naturally putting the pressure on Peter to pack London in, which included Glenna.. get a job down there.. Hardly saw myself working for peanuts in the country. Suited me, few nights in London, some nights in the country. Up and down the M.11. what was wrong with that…? Glenna would come around while I was in town, cook hot peppery food and demand far more than I was able to give her in the huge bed with the plants twirling about it.
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Must have been one evening, late August, fiddling about in the flat phone rang…Glenna.. she sounded unusually happy.. “Oh Hi Glen .. '' She , quite calm and collected, her soft, attractive, sultry voice, deceptively flat.. "You know the tall, half cast girl you fancied the other afternoon at the gym…” Her voice tailing off. knew straight away who she was talking about, a right sort.. about nineteen. Peter took the bait immediately. Immediately wide awake.. “Yes” I said .. gently as I was able "she is coming to my room to see me this evening….for a drink.. are you interested ??" Tried not to fall over myself said I would…… Forgot about driving a cab… All bathed , cleaned myself up, tried to not look too much like a saddle tramp.. Plenty of time ....time for Johns café, the gang , eggs and chips.. Thought I would sit there as I had done throughout my life… it did seem, have a chat about the interminable nothing, then amble round the corner to Great Russel street. How can that be bad for a evening's entertainment…. Pulled up outside John's, about 30 other cabs there, all straddled down the street. Pubs wide open, everyone spilling on to the pavements with the beer. A very warm evening. Lambs Conduit in its heyday.. really buzzing.
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Eggs and chips, had my tea, had another tea, all the gossip, the small adventures.. hot from the crowded streets.. the loud, excited noise from the café flooding out into the street as it had always done. I looked too near the mark.. enough to arouse some comment, the slightest thing.. the most personal details, openly discussed, thrown about the room, nothing ever missed. They said, quite loudly, more or less in unison, group mind.. group discussion “Well who have you got tonight !! No subtlety about their questioning or questions .. ‘’Not quite sure “ I parried.. “On a promise, Glenna has found something for me “ They, not quite satisfied with this, nevertheless knew it was all they would get.. Albert the knocker persisted.. ”Bet you are away with Glenna for a blow job “. Everyone had had erotic thoughts about Glenna’s lips.. where she may put them and to what degree. Her other, deeper aspect, something which had eluded them, I, hardly going to open my mouth for them to find out…. They, very basic, strangely, in some ways prudish.. Slap bang tickle.. was “Orlright” but to step beyond the prescribed bounds, raised questions on their foreheads. When they had all gathered at the flat for my “Parties” the photographs always caused them problems ..mostly they looked , yet remained silent.. a remarkable feat for any cab driver. No I hardly felt inclined to fill them in on the other side of Glenna, or myself come to that. 21
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Drove round to Great Russel Street. Glenna very pleased to see me.. perhaps more so than usual …. slightly nervous, perhaps…effusive… Suddenly she locked the door.. Immediately felt as if I were locked in a tiger’s cage, such was the tense atmosphere. Had been locked in other females flats before.. this particular occasion, realized rather too late I had swallowed the bait, Glenna having Peter precisely where she wanted him, for whatever reason was bugging her.. In a moment of indecision went to the window, thought I would get out of that.. looked down, about seventeen floors beneath me.. so no way was I getting out of any windows, that was for sure.. Thought, well now I have to face whatever it is. Then she went for me.. flying fists. Here we go again … she a very strong woman. Pleased it was her fists, not a knife. Led with my left and gave her a short right which put her down but not quite out, out, out long enough for me to escape into one of the six lifts. Went up, then halfway down , up again, thought, this is good, up, down.. straight into the arms of Glenna. So now had it on my heels away.. decided not to make for the cab, if she finds that she will simply sit in it, perhaps forever.. Could run quite well in those days. Glenna ran after me, the security man ran after the both of us thinking she was chasing a intruder.. a good evenings entertainment you may think. Soon out of breath. Glenna caught Peter, the security man caught us both. when he realized we more than knew each other, he ambled off muttering. 23
What do I do now! she firmly had hold of me up against a wall in a back alley, could hear civilization honking and grinding it’s way into oblivion. She, really cracked up, anyone could see she was gone, then out of the blue between gasps she said “I have not had my injection!!” Thought out loud “What injection!!” “ Oh , every three months I have to have one to keep me calm… up at the Whittigton hospital” Lovely !! had it away again. Jumped on a bus, she jumped on behind me, jumped off, ran down the tube escalator .. Then we played that game ..on the bus, off the bus. Down the tube, up the tube. All very charming. After about a hour of this, we both surfaced on Kings Cross. I walked, rather stumbled, into the Wimpy Bar, she tailing close behind.. Sat down, I shaking quite visibly.. my evenings entertainment… Midnight, the clock straddled over Kings cross starting to strike.. could hear it very clearly through a lull in the traffic. The St Pancras clock, deciding it was midnight ten minutes later ..then, so long as I could remember, it always lagged behind. Glenna and I both sat appraising the situation in silence , not a word spoken for one of those rather long, uncomfortable moments in time. Quite suddenly, quite calmly, she stood up, gathered herself together, gave me a final look, turned her back and walked out. Never saw her again 24
Bucharest Tuesday, February 29, 2000 ….2:46 .p.m.
A very warm day….. sitting here looking at the words. Out and about this morning with Cynthia. Aura left us at the University, deciding she had better show her face, although she should have been there at eight a.m. What is her problem? Not quite realizing she is off the hook, no longer having to fear falling by the wayside. . back to the cow shed and the village, tried to impress this on her, hardly the case even before we met. Young, intelligent, attractive woman who has never failed a exam, never had any help or hand outs, having worked her way to the front via scholarships and her own efforts. The trouble, being lack of confidence and naturally, finance, her scholarship allowance being 700.000 lei a month ( $ 38) with the threat of, if failing even one exam, loosing that princely sum. No good looking to her parents, (Her mother earns less than $2 a day in the fields..12 hours….. You want to believe it. Aura's wrist is permanently damaged after wielding a scythe in the fields from dawn to dusk …….from the age of ten.) The experience of her early existence, drained and intimidated Aura in many respects, still having to struggle, to find some occupation, even cleaning, the strain showing quite clearly that day we all inadvertently met in the rain.
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Rather a different person now. . having been through the Peter process.. Sir Galahad evidently still not quite dead, slightly stiff perhaps, nevertheless, with some reluctance, still charging at windmills…… Sitting here, now 3.a.m. after a long day of doing nothing, always been my time, ever since Jennifer. Used to pick up Mark the from school at 3.30.p.m. and her from Churchill's club at 3.30.a.m. Usually ring Aura about this time if she is at her home.. has become used to me, always saying very softly, “ Oh Peter why don't you sleep!” surprised, always surprised at my ringing her, as if she does not bare consideration ... reticent … hardly the word.
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Bucharest.. Thursday, March 30, 2000………3:19.p.m.
Have been back from England eight days, the experience there left me stressed and exhausted. Hardly wish to repeat myself, to write-down the same comments, criticisms of that country. Initially, the first few days, quite happy in my little black cab chugging about the streets, gradually became aware the streets were full of Romanian gypsies. The situation regarding immigration is apparently totally out of control, the people with their feet on the ground are very intimidated, humiliated and rather angry. One Romanian, begging woman, discretion to the wind, threw a duchess to the floor outside Harrods, of all conceivable places.. (if I had done likewise they would have locked me up in the Tower of London and thrown the key away.) To exacerbate this, a underground train driver was attacked with knives, mob handed, for warning his passengers to beware of the gypsies . The next day there was not one to be seen on the streets of London, however, banishing these people, out of sight, out of mind.. hardly solves the problem. It is admitted officially that 400,000 people, the majority, from Istanbul to Delhi, are entering Europe annually, the real figure is possibly four times that number. 29
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Never known, not since the days of Enoch Powell, such outrage amongst the working class, they having to pay very large increases in taxation for this influx of seeping, insidious humanity, who are sucking up every financial advantage, every council home available, totally in disdain of the indigenous population. As said in previous books, the situation now simply needs only a spark to ignite a inferno. This has always been a dot on the card from my observations. Previous governments, this government, Jack Straw in particular, now confronted point blank with a problem created entirely by themselves, the out come of their determination to subjugate the working and middle classes, which has been achieved. Jack Straw, as a young man, saw and seized a opportunity, rose to power by standing on the backs of black people, gay people and minority groups, standing firm on their "rights" disregarding entirely the wishes, the thoughts of his own race , as if they were of no consequence. Throughout history there have been such men . His attitude, even when confronted by the unrest in the country now, is unchanged, his only answer is to make even more stringent laws to stifle any outcry against his fanaticism The mere whiff of the wrong "attitude" regarding black people, the slightest hint of the so called "racism" and it is imprisonment.... banged up. The all powerful "race relations syndrome" will make absolutely certain of that, as it has done with the concept of free speech, the Union Jack.. and most other aspects of English culture 31
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To be White English in the year 2000, is anachronism.
an
Imperative that one is "Politically Correct" Imperative that one "Learns to live with black people" as I was told by a perhaps intimidating, very big, very black man …a "visitor " to my home from Hackney Town Hall, that bastion of all things black. The witch hunts of mediaeval ages were a tea party compared with the happenings of now, it may be a mad hatters so far as people of Europe are concerned, for them it is also fast becoming a nightmare, each rising tide bringing with it the flotsam of the World's disenchanted. The Black vote is now vast and of vast consequence to the Labour party, also the answer as to why its eyes are completely closed to the inevitable, why there can be no attempt to stem the influx, why there is no consideration of the future .. there is none.
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Those from the Indian sub continent soon realized that capitalism's insatiable demand for "Cheap" labour and it's determination to smash the Trade Unions, could be twisted round to their own advantage. This endless horde now control every post office, every corner shop, every petrol station and have infiltrated into all the lower echelons of government and the highest positions in "Society" creeping insidiously, determinedly, ever towards full control of the levers of Power and Capital . The fingers of finance, about to be badly burnt, as they were when assisting Adolf Hitler in his re building of Germany with the aid of forced slave labour. History has a habit of repeating itself There is no visible, apparent concern at this position from the powers that be. No discussion of the subject allowed. Truth hidden behind the words "Racist" "Human Rights".. "Political correctness", the big three deceptions of the last half century. Nothing of this metamorphose escapes out from the heavily manipulated "media". The situation.. totally accepted. …. It would seem. Now, no escaping World Domination by Muslims. Chechnya, Indonesia, Serbia and the forty years work they have put into undermining Europe. Remarkably, actively helped by Europeans Cannot recall any period in history when a group of countries blindly participated in their own demise ..out of greed and self interest. 34
Western civilization now full of obedient, plastic people, soft, frightened, tremulous. Unable, unwilling, to see the sharp axe of reality poised high above their heads. The invading armies of the night meet with no resistance, hidden by a endless plethora of comforting, mindless, deeply deceptive, television, kind thoughts and gentle words. England, all of England, will be fully controlled from Delhi before the year 2020.. for now, its tentacles grip tight the central swathe… Birmingham, Manchester, Sheffield, Coventry, Nottingham, Leicester, Luton, Leeds, Slough, and all the London Boroughs . Then it will be …. "Oh, good morning driver, lovely day…please take us to Westminster Mosque.." ……….Not, Westminster Abbey. As wrote years ago……. ."if I were a young man, with a young family, would send my children to a Muslim school in order to make it easier for them when the transition does come." When the British controlled India it only required 5000 people.. Varying estimates of Indians in this country now ……between two and three million.
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31st. March. 2000.
Time drifts on. In three days I will be 71 years old. Yesterday, had a fight with my, girlfriend aged 22, the first major one we've had…so far. She here this morning in the brilliant Sunlight, on her knees in tears and supplication, The experience left me stressed and coughing. Shuffled up to the shops in my carpet slippers to find Cynthia , told her to deal with the situation, which she did quietly and calmly….. Only when Aura refused to leave did I become aggressive, reverting to being a "Cab Driver".. my own survival. Aura had run true to form as other female faces in my life, had built her up, she, turned round and tried to kick me for whatever reason women have, missed and fell flat on her face, after throwing the street door keys at me as if they were a engagement ring. This morning ….. a totally different Aura. Not the strength to go back to her outstretched arms, gently wipe the tears away……..Something had conceivably, happened to her while I was in London, rolling round the ragged streets.. perhaps the fact her girl friend has hit the Jackpot with a Swiss gentleman in so far as he has given her $12000 in the bank and $2000 in her hand, so I am told. Same story as Thailand.. but men are stupid everywhere when it comes to buying the kaleidoscope of "love…" when it comes to between the legs.. young, hot, long, legs.
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This, one does not mind, understands, but it really screws it up for the minority, the more sane, controlled characters, when others are so anxious, so eager, so in such a rush to pay so much for so few moments placation of a vague, relentless desire, need, want… To have and to hold another being, regardless of the shallow uncertainty, the perhaps coldness of the brief encounter, the escape from the daily drudgery ..the implacable wife, the demanding, remorseless children, the walking the dog, away from the house, the home… the endless repetition of nothing. Aura, maybe, impressed.. all this indicated affluence, this sudden, incredible wealth, in her terms, obtained so easily…apparently. Simply some attentive listening required, a encouraging smile, short skirt, crossed, long legs…. This relentless urge in men, so easily exploited. This sudden realization of life, changed my simple country girl.. opened her eyes wide to distinct other possibilities.. besides nine to five… Maybe . As said so many times.. " No man will ever know what a woman is thinking, what she is conniving" So what is new ?? wrote the same story, almost word for word, different context in Book 1.. 30 years ago. :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
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Saturday, April 15, 2000……..1:25 PM.
Very hot
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If it were not for the barking dogs of Bucharest which are driving me to some distraction, peace stretches quite tight over Beller. Sit here in the Sun in great splendor, has to be better than grinding round the wretched streets in a black tin box , has to be.. My small "Verandah, a large vodka and orange, My smart garden chairs cushions, sun shade ..this must, has to be, better than Clapton Common, splendid isolation. Cynthia having toddled off to do some building work, the only woman ever known to carry about with her a hammer, screw driver, nails, around in her pockets, she most efficient in that aspect , most aspects if one takes time to consider it . Sit here quite naked, sun beats gently down, Thailand without the drama's, demands and expense.. so what is my problem?? unable to think of any particular one at the moment, only the always present , at the back, right at the back of my mind, this urgency to finish that which I have to say ..wish to say, regarding my existence, my experience on Planet Earth, not quite going to say "What has it all been about !! " , most people poise that question at some point in their lives.. I have wondered, many times , my slight contention, conclusion, being that it has something to do with space, space probes, especially "Voyager One". Anyway, wandering off as usual. The problem is time, time to settle the account, time running out quickly, slipping away as the tide beneath Southend Pier, insidiously, silently, leaving nothing but vast acres of black mud. ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: 41
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A morning.
Belgian friend of mine finaly left here this
In the course of the previous 24hrs, he disposed of his secretary, general dogs body, sleeping partner, a most charming, intelligent young woman of nineteen, sent her home, put her on the train. From that moment, yesterday lunch time, with Aura and I sitting here with him.. seeing quite clearly thriough his quite insensitive manouvre , as the young, tearful lady most certainly did, he wanting the opportunity to partake of "greener fields" before flying home to his old woman and the dog, He never stopped calling in his quest , the whole of Romania…simply to find someone else to sleep with for the one remaining night. Have not seen such a performance with a man since my days of Thailand, however, he did take us to lunch, more as a gesture towards Aura whom he could barely stop from touching, her long legs inches from him. We went in a stretched limousine, to a rather smart restaurant overlooking the lake at Herastrau park, he, still on the telephone and smoking inordinately. Looked at me, looked at Aura, still having the greatest difficulty in keeping his hands off. For nothing he had already given her a most expensive piece of facial make up, Aura being Aura, immediately priced it, concluding it was about a million Lei.. Big money in Bucharest. He smiled uncertainly, I smiled back. Aura slowly, deliberately, recrossed her legs at him. 43
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Not too much sympathy for a man who wants a woman, but too intolerant of them basically, too full of himself, completely without any conception of the patience/kindness required. I finaly said "Well maybe you had better talk to Cynthia.." The master of all ceremonies, can conjure up people out of a hat. Rang her, asked if she could, would help a man in his desperation, tried not to let the smile come out with the words.. he needs someone to sleep with…tonight.. now, immediately, instantly.. Cynthia being Cynthia said without any hesitation .."of course". Walked along by the lake waiting for the car, Aura and I hand in hand ,such a glorious afternoon, felt about eighteen years old. My friend looked at us, he had hardly recovered from the fact of my age, always imagined I was the same as he.. early fifties.. Here was this old man, this ancient mariner with this quite "beautiful woman".. his remark.. strolling, totally entwined, she, quite obviously loved him, quite obviously having his interest only, quite obviously her calculator switched off. No, there is something many other men have never learnt.. other, simple ways besides the Swiss man's $12000, my friend's $100 notes, a lap top computer and mobile phone. "The" price he is willing to pay for "love", to dispel his impatience, his urgency, his deep sense of isolation, to dispel that ultimately, he is ..we are…… alone. 45
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Quite existence
sad,
nevertheless
the
reality
of
this
Why Pattaya is so washed out now. All the young ladies, completely and utterly after the Big Buck and only that … the gentle kindness, the soft smile of my time out there….. gone forever. Drifted round to Cynthia's placed of work. Lo and behold, she had come up with Lisa, nineteen years old, the age the man specified. A attractive country girl with a sharp metropolitan outlook, living, so far as I could see, entirely on her wits, a credit to her. Unfortunately it did happen to be the young lady's time of the month.. what can be said.? He? .. he ignored this aspect of life and pressed relentlessly ever onwards, pursuing her round my apartment, such as it is, hid myself on the computer. Cyn and Aura went off somewhere, leaving him to watch her trying to clean herself up.. no limits so far as he was evidently concerned, no 'decorum' as my father would have said. After a couple of hours he had evidently given up, she departing, smiling , no doubt having had a prize of some consideration, her little twist was to ask me, in all innocence, quite casually in front of him, when I would be available to do some nude photography of her.. She quite impressed with my collection of the past. hanging about the walls. His face rather fell at this riposte, he having to fly out, not allowed, no time to be a voyeur. 47
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The drama, far from finished, the moment Lisa wound her way down the stairs, it was phone out, ringing a lady whom he had never met, only on the Net.. she living on the Black sea, Constanta, three hours by train and it was now five p.m. After some gentle talk by our friend, never a clue as the pressure, the desperation hidden .. Yes he would meet her, a blind date at Gard Du North railway station, 9.30.p.m. which he did, I having to accompany him, he pacing up and down the concourse, still smoking like a chimney ,now looking considerably the worse for wear, both worried and haggard. It had been for him, a long, frustrating, very hot day. For my part, in my nakedness, had achieved quite a good colour all over, disregarding the spot of skin cancer I had picked up in Stevenage, a fall out from the Chernobyl fiasco'. After innumerable looks at his watch he impatiently rang her on his mobile, she answered standing next to him, thought this amusing.. contact in the twenty first century.. not waiting outside the Pavilion picture house Mare street in the pouring rain .Turned out, she, a very handsome looking woman, about twenty two, all the right things in all the right places. Not had sex since her husband was killed in a car smash twelve months previous, so it turned out. Evidently my friends' persistence had paid off rather well. The lady looking naturally nervous also quite tired having just left work after a 48 hour shift at a internet café, 280 hrs a month for $62 less tax.. can't be bad???.
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After the excitement and the train journey, not fully awake. In McDonalds where we all trooped, difficult for her to remain with eyelids open.. Her brother had come as a chaperone or whatever, both speaking excellent English. All three looked at each other in expectation. Decided would prefer to go home and go to bed, which I did, leaving them to it. Midnight, thereabouts, knock at the door, they needed a cork screw. Two bottles of Vino without a corkscrew. Peter being obliging which he can occasionally be … The brother, having been, no doubt, suitably reimbursed, had caught the midnight train back. My friend and the young lady sat in the almost silent evening on the terrace, even the dogs had shut up. Stars glittered , a cool, comfortable night. Now it had finaly come to the crunch, my man had gone almost into reverse. Now no rush to put this young lady in the huge brass bed which only creaked if people were really carried away.. wondered if it would creak later, she could hardly keep her eyes open, poor cow . Left them to it. This morning they emerged at 9.a..m she looking rather delicious "Like a strawberry waiting to be licked" My comment to Cynthia, A very brief, almost transparent bright green dressing gown. I sufficiently impressed to somewhat surreptitiously give her our phone number.
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But she was "Off" without any doubt.. obviously quite disenchanted with our man. "No thank you" to breakfast.. Simply wanting to escape, if that is the word, which she did within twenty minutes. He smiled at the situation, attempting to bluff it out, saying, without the slightest conviction "She loves me really.". thought, "please yourself". No sooner had she wound herself down the spiral staircase, the cab door slammed, than our man had whipped his mobile out and begging one of his local reserves to escort him to Otopeni airport. Well what can I say about that? Entertaining if you like, the man is at least human, generous. His performance, his sex drive, quite remarkable, so comparatively late in life. He went away to his wife and dog, perhaps belatedly , perhaps somewhat sadly.. alone, with regret, leaving the lovely ladies of Romania, looking at me, my life style in the Sun, waited on like King Farouk. Knowing I was not going to go jetting off, continually checking the GSM global position finder which he carries about in his pocket and has it on the table in front of him when sitting down, possibly worried the World will move without his knowledge. Concerned, one morning, that our position in space had moved thirty metres!! Aura, very quick thinking woman she is, asks, when my hands start to wander, asks if I need a position finder ? should she maybe buy me one for Xmas……
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So he departed, ruefully, if you like, as when men leave Pattaya, leave the girls, leave other men with them ..by the pool in the iridescent sunlight, the soft laughter, the tinkle of glasses, the clatter of coffee cups, the splash of clear, warm water. Shook my hand, climbed into the cab …..drove away, gone. Cynthia gone, I left alone in peace. Silence, other than for the barking dogs. ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
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Another preamble over.. time to press ever onwards.. With the departure of Glenna, now so very long ago, turned my full attention to Susan, the child and the business. Numerous alarms and excursions. Susan "dissatisfied" with the flat bought in Leytonstone.. she now wished to move back to Bishops Stortford of course.. near " her mother". After much running too and fro, after making a considerable profit on the property, enough to buy a somewhat tumble down cottage, long garden in the back, long garden in the front, ideal for the child, which by now she had been given full control. On the face of it ..the "appearance " of it, things were going quiet well, Peter, of course, dutifully set to work to straighten the place out, did that which was required of him, drove up and down the M.11, went to work. During this period my eldest son and his wife made contact.. his wife and Susan were a "win double" a perfect match, even down to their ages, even down to the clothes, the taste in them …They fell immediately together ..a mutual hatred of Peter, but not immediately apparent to myself. My business doing very well making money …the criteria, engrossed. No problems other than those expected. Gradually became apparent Susan's coffee mornings with her friends were taking some precedent over myself and the slight help she did perhaps give me, by now Jack started Kindergarten, Susan playing mother with a capital "M". Coffee in turns at each mothers' house, a cosy, lethal arrangement, the feature in their lives, when they discussed everything and everyone when they tore everything and everyone apart, evidently including myself. 56
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I, oblivious of this initially, quite obsessed with the necessities, getting them…trying to be all the things I really was not, yet, I , for whatever reason, tried hard to fit.. to be normal…put out of my mind the obvious, obvious would never fit anywhere, however much having taken it upon myself to try. Ignored the building processes I had been through previous, starting with Virginia and Desaumarez street.. forty years before. Before, in a far off, strange land, called Australia, this had been a disaster, what made me struggle in the belief England, Hertfordshire in particular, would be any different? ……..I hardly knew. Quite happy in my misguided thought, Susan "adjusting" herself with her friends, where she belonged, where she belonged finaly. Not seeing the inherent danger, threat to my self. Most men, the man next to me, all too engrossed putting things together financially.. too engrossed to see what does go on behind their backs while they are going to work , working , returning. While they are thinking, while they are wearing themselves out…….. no time, too see. Nothing more lethal in society than a group of females, especially females who have conceived the progeny, have taken it to school, females who are young, females who have a certain look on their faces, a dissatisfaction irrespective of whatever they do have.. dissatisfaction with their lives, their husbands, this dissatisfaction pours out , released if you like, the pent up emotions, the real or imaginary frustrations. Mostly these ladies have everything, mostly they want more… something else… 58
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Peter being Peter, pressed ever onwards, growing the roses up the front of the house. Within three years they had reached the roof, a feature ..people slowed their cars down to look. I, quite absorbed in the garden, in the child ..any thoughts regarding asking myself what exactly I was doing, where exactly I was going……. My Turkish man quite affable, helpful, my account for the fleet maintenance covered his total overheads he smiled ebulliently at this thought ..at myself…. everyone ….. quite happy In all this intense movement , "turmoil", if you like, rather a good word for most men's efforts, if only they were but aware of it, Susan and the other ladies going their own sweet way. Considered she had a good life in so far as could be ascertained, understood, so far as any man understands any woman. She would come up to London for the weekends, see her friends, her mother having the child, wander about Camden market.. all the things all the people do. Time slipped by, Jack now four years old, I had built up quite a large fleet of taxi cabs. Run here, run there on the motor bike, chase here, chase there more appropriate, always something too do. The M.11 on a Yamaha 650 does not take long to devour. Became deeper and deeper enmeshed in life, in living, yet some time taken out to realise Susan had drawn away from me in many respects, not enough time to ask why, what was going on. 60
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She became cold, cold as the upstairs bedrooms, they, at times, at freezing point, I wanted to put heating up there but she "preferred it as it was.." not wishing me to get too hot in any direction, conceivably…so I froze. On occasions, the depths of winter, unable to stand it any longer, would get up after midnight, get in the cab, start it up with enough reverberations to wake the now dead, drive through the deserted, ice/mist covered roads, back to civilization, to Clapton Common, to the flat which was never cold, take hot bath and go to bed, end of another day……. As other men, ignored the situation, preferring it to asking why? to risk breaking down everything I had built up over the years. As other men, acquiescent, not ask too many questions, remain silent on the subject ..the women fully aware, knowing they hold all the trump cards. Compressed and starting to show it. Susan, as the other ladies, remained sanguine, had their coffee mornings after their men had departed into the chaos, into the miasmal distance, after the perfunctory kiss on the cheek, after the waving hands of the children. Ten a.m. in Hertfordshire, the children taken safely to school, the only sounds are the whisperings, occasional soft laughter, the clatter of crockery, the ladies now sitting, ensconced, cigarettes poised…… ..ready. 62
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Radu Beller Sunday, May 14, 2000…….4:57 PM
Been a very hot day, did precisely nothing, Cyn went to Church and returned sometime late this afternoon, suited me, her disappearing with her friends. Woke this morning very early, knew it would be a nothing day, wished I could skip this particular twenty four hours, make it Monday morning as , perhaps , so many other people, find Sundays a drag. Okay back in London.. about this time get in the cab, drift down to the Royal Oak see all the surviving faces, have my tea, have my chat, go out ..drift down Edgware road in the evening sunlight, see who is who, what is what, wait for the first nonchalantly waving hand, usually a couple of young, smart Arabs, wanting the short ride down to the Hilton, a start to the evenings work, they mostly give over the odds. Beginning to see quite clearly, my period of Clapton Common and the Cab trade was not the horror story I always believed it to be. .not after having so much empty time to simply sit and watch other people's lives from the inside, after being on the outside all those years, crawling in the gutters, which cannot be disputed, no more than that.
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Now time ticks interminably.. my initial reaction to this morning was to get on a plane and go home.. do a long Sunday with Barry.. the day he goes to town in a very big way.. forget the other six. Sunday for him is a fifteen hrs.. every Sunday.. written elsewhere about him, how the life has left its mark on him his eyesight.. Work and its consequences can be more appealing to simply sitting about as King Farouk, as I do…not quite rotting away, because I do find plenty to occupy myself with ..it would be easy simply to let go as Cyntia would like …do nothing, turn into a cabbage.. her looking after every, my slightest whim and need...I becoming simply a nothing... Have not lived for so long to let that happen, If I am going to die, wish to die either in the arms of two or three young women, or at the wheel, probably round Russel square. Not as one of my friends, still driving at eighty two, driving home late one night to Brighton, if you don’t mind, he pulled over for a sleep.. the cab and himself squashed like box of tomatoes by a heavy lorry ..the driver fallen asleep ..my friend never knew what hit him .. a good way to go It possibly sound extreme but being "retired' is akin to living in a padded cell, regardless of glimpses of life here I have portrayed. As also said, there are very many men who would like to be in my position.. anyway…… will "shut up" as Aura always demands of me…afraid I may start shouting ..she becoming tremulous……
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Had rather a interesting confrontation with that young woman a couple of days ago.. A particularly hot evening, about 4.p.m. Glorious… Never been to Aura's home, abode.. where she stayed, where she supervised these other young ladies, the house belonging to some Germans, they quite pleased to have Aura run it for them . Often, over the long period of time I have know Aura, had heard stories, yet always kept discreetly away from the premises, hardly worried me. Have been kept away from, shall we perhaps say, better places, a mere detail in the arrangement she and I had. This particular afternoon started thinking, little else too do, Cyntia having triggered the idea of popping round previously, she being rather cute at indirectly wynding people up. Made me think, maybe I should drop by, see what does transpire, what does go on, if anything. Peter put his shorts on, his "Pattaya" singlet, his gold braided "Tottenham" supporters hat, bare feet other than for sandals .. black glasses.. Dresses for the beach, apparently. Quite brown now ..all over.. dressed in almost nothing. Looked good, felt up to the occasion, which I knew it was going to be.
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Called the cab, showed him the bit of paper, useless trying to pronounce these streets. Personally, like Bucharest cabs ..taking your life in your hands every second of the way, the overriding factors being it is extremely cheap and I am not driving… A change for me to sit in the back seat, which I always do. So, sat in the back seat, put my feet up, made myself quite comfortable, hung tightly on to the handrail above the door, lucky this time there was one.. usually they are broken off, the doors actually closed fully.. Not the faintest echo of the Public carriage office and the Hackney carriage rules and regulations.. quite refreshing The Taxi inspectors at Penton street would have a group heart attack if they saw this lot of rotting metal hurtling about the boulevards. Set out on our journey through the pot holes, through the trams, the buses, veering through the cars the hooting and the honking.. the mad rush to oblivion. The driver successfully fought his way through, as they all do, James Bond fashion, regardless of my asking him to take it easy, I, in no particular hurry. My few words of Romanian.. totally ignored .. Foot down, hand on the horn. This piece of protracted excitement, travelling across town, cost me just over a pound sterling, gave him a couple of bob on top, he, most grateful .
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Arrived, the driver did the business at the door ringing, evidently the wrong bell, as there was no answer. Thought, well I will hang about, nothing else too do.. he left leaving me posing on the doorstep in my very brief attire. Waited about half an hour. Aura had mentioned having a Nun stay with her, I always fancied a drop of nun.. "Nun for you and nun for me"… how the story goes.. Wondered what manner of Nun she was.. complete with a mobile phone and a penchant for Jack Daniel's whisky, must be interesting.. Lo and Behold.. along comes a nun in full rig, she not knowing me from bar of soap, I standing in front of the street door, she opened it, followed her in, gave me a funny look, followed her to the lift, gave me another funny look, muttered something, muttered a few words back, pointing upwards towards God, which no doubt consoled her.. Stepped out the same landing as herself, now she quite worried this naked man, in her terms, perhaps pursuing her, maybe believing her luck had changed, who knows what a nun thinks?? When I stood by the same door as she, she became very worried, anyway the door was opened. .there was someone there, as said, the cab driver had rung the wrong bell. Consternation ! Aura not there. .her friend whom I assumed was the girl friend of the Swiss man I heard so very much about, who had received so much money, she gave me a strange look, the nun gave me a strange look…
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Asked for Aura, said she was not there, said I would wait and gave every indication of doing so indefinitely. With that they invited me in into a strange room, in a time warp, furniture at least fifty years old.. clearly nothing had been touched.. neat and tidy.. Large terrace which I went and sat on.. A drink materialized.. the usual 90 % proof stuff.. firewater nothing less. .quite usual in Romania. Had a few sips, knowing full well they would tip Aura off on the mobile phone I had given her. Peter was there ..never fear.. They disappeared, I sat, looking at the landscape. Eventually recovering their composure, Aura no doubt informing them I would not bite.. invited me in, another drink. Now quite comfortable.. few drinks, chatting the birds.. Peter's forte.. Asked the girl, in all innocence, about her "Swiss" man. She came back "What Swiss man !?" Here we go.. Peter thought ..strange.. "You are Auras' friend.. the one she has Known since childhood??" Yes, she was, however, her boy friend, she insisted, was a "Turk" Rather the other end of the spectrum.." Oh…!"
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Never said anything more. The nun disappeared. She had been hit by a car, quite seriously damaging her eye.. so very dangerous cars in Bucharest.. no compensation, peanuts.. about all.. Sat there, almost naked as far as these ladies were so obviously concerned . Did have my heavy silver bracelet with the names of all my known children, which offset the inclination of looking at me as if I were some hooligan. Aura made her breathless, dramatic appearance just as I was getting into the swing of things . To say she was giving me black looks in no way described her demeanor. If she had a knife she would , I say without hesitation, have stabbed me that instant, that split second in time, when our eyes met. She removed, somewhat brusquely, my dark glasses in order to get a much better look at me, maybe believing looks could kill. Peter refusing to be ruffled by this display on her part and put the glasses, quite deliberately back on his face. Apparent the last person she wanted to see in that apartment was Peter. I had already jumped to that obvious conclusion .. enjoying the situation immensely..
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From the "Off" known, for whatever reason, Peter had to be kept under wraps , however , here he was, bold, bold as a bowler hat on a Bradford millionaire, sitting quite comfortably, pumping her friend… Still of the opinion Aura's previous.. a Greek.. was still lurking around in his BMW. Well, we shall see now.. kids stuff….. we know. Enjoyed it, which is the criterion in my life now… whether or not anything amuses me and it does take rather a lot to do so. Quite casually, started the ball rolling with ….. "Where is the young lady ..your friend whom you have told me so very much about.. the one who has the "Swiss Man " the man who gives her $12.000 as if it were mere bagatelle!!! That was it ! she suddenly broke down into sobs and gasps, all the belligerence and venom, turning to water. Collapsed within herself ..said she had lied.. I said "Fucking sure you have" my voice beginning to gain momentum. I usually speak too softly for most people. Said to her "Had this situation long before you were born, before your mother was born," so I came straight out with it asking "So where's the geezer!!"
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"I do not have any other men" this reply through the tears.. "So why are you crying your eyes out.." Now really starting to shout and I can do so extremely loudly, loud enough for people to come out on their verandahs, no discretion here, no twitching net curtains "Crying because I lied to you" "Well, you would not be the first woman to do that or quite conceivably, the last" Most women lie to Peter, quite a common characteristic for females to lie, even the most devoutly religious ones ..as found to my cost. It is part of the female . "So why did you concoct such a elaborate story which continued for months?? " I don't know" she said lamely As Raluca, she went very strange just before sticking the knife in and stole a apartment from me. On the face of it I had obviously driven Aura mad as have done with the other female faces. All the women ever encountered have cracked in one way or the other.. so it must be Peter. Know I am no good. No! will not go to heaven.
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When it comes to women, they simply cannot handle it, must be something about me.. not playing by the rules.. By now, quite a audience, said to Fanny "if you do not tell me now, this instant what is going on and stop sniveling, I will shout louder.." We had taken the situation out to the edge of the terrace. Glorious evening, people becoming quite engrossed in this clearly mad foreigner.. this ancient old man shouting at the young woman. As my mother, the more she was told to "Shut Up" the louder she shouted, she never gave a toss for anyone. Only the Blacks eventually intimidated and humiliated her, broke her, as so many other old ladies. Why should I shut up?? have looked after the girl as if she were wife, mistress, princess, daughter, …..granddaughter, which she could be.. simply not the slightest grounds for fucking me about ..story of Peter. Had every right to know what is going on in the young woman's life, away from myself, when she did not show, feel I am not unreasonable . By now the girl like a piece of wet rag, all her arrogance, independence, determination if you like, ebbed away as quickly as the tide on Maldon Flats.
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Said to her 'Going to stay here until the Greek shows up, like a good fight.. not had one for ages' "I have no Greek.. he is in England "she insisted.. "How do I know that?? you are capable of telling me anything which comes into your head ..which you think may fit your plan. Yes, I do know what you told me about the Greek, you also told me your girlfriend had a Swiss boyfriend…giving her $12000 a time.…" Had to rub it in, anyway the little drama had dragged on for about two hours, I getting tired and bored, had my evenings entertainment. Tried to wynd the situation down. "Hardly know what to say in these cases, never know what there is too say, what can be said?.. No answer on this Planet, do not ask me for one. As most females, you, consciously or otherwise, revel in being a enigma, a mystery.. What are you all about!? ..why tell me such intricate stories..? hardly run away with the idea you are different from any other woman, because you are not" Started to consider my situation.. how many 71 year old men have 23 year old birds?? With that thought decided to ease off further, poor bitch..
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Why concern myself why? Why she came out with such a fanny of a story, so much conviction attached to it. Thought of one or two other stories I had been told by other female faces, told with so much earnestness, so much conviction. I shut up. No longer interested, very tired.. needed a drink, needed to go back to the comparative sanity of Cynthia, someone who so far has not gone quite off her rocker, has come pretty close to it on occasions. She possess this fierce determination to hold on to Peter and evidently her sanity at all costs, do not know why, disregarding his wanderings, his misplaced attitudes, his lack of respect for society and the people in it, herself on occasions. All this she totally ignores, acts at times, as if Aura is part of the family, other times, she is slightly more the other way. Whatever, the situation, so far as she is concerned… Nothing too much trouble.. twenty four hours a day.. every day. Naturally, now wanting to return to Cynthia on my weary horse, weary of charging at windmills, needing the comfort of a "Home" . By now the situation had subsided, Aura going down in the lift with me, I also thinking more practically… of her beautiful naked body in bed and the way she can use it….
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She told the cab driver the directions, plenty on my mind without attempting the Romanian language. Saw I had recovered, now more pliable, looking at her breasts, falling the way all women wish all men to fall ..hostage to their charms, their mystery, aware I had not taken too much real interest in her little lies, saw also, her own position had completely changed, the "Cat out of the bag".. having to admit the truth to her friends. God knows what fanny, what fairy stories she had told them about the "Englishman". Probably I was "Prince Charming", twenty four years old, had three camels and two Mercedes, for all I know.. All out in the open now .. she working her way through University………Okay.. My parting shot. "Better have a shower, straighten your face out, change your knickers, come round about nine………" Drifted away. A evenings' entertainment.. something..
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Had little intention of mentioning to Cyn, would only be ammunition for her to throw at me, not directly.. simply sniping at the opportune moment, as indeed every woman, a inherent capability.. biding their time.. then shooting straight when one is unprepared. Naturally she is not entirely happy with the situation, although it suits her sometimes.. My, shall we say "girlfriend" living with us occasionally. Then we all have our problems. I making it quiet clear when she married me, would still play my small games, this she readily concurred to. If she tries to become respectable now, slippers by the fire. nodding my evenings away in the armchair.. loses her fetish for the whip, the chains and the handcuffs. Watching me watching the legs go by, watching the breasts go by……in other arms, in other situations… bizarre conceivably, in other people's terms. Too late, Peter will never change, not going to "succumb" as Susan would say, almost went down with that trollop.. have no intention of changing or shutting up to suit anyone, why should I? "No one keeps me ..!" As my mother would say acidly, with some bitterness, some venom.
End of another little story.
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Aura came round.. very demure, had a little food, a little red wine.. Bed. A long night, which she spent most of gently crying in my arms, nothing was going to console her, as if a child ……..as my children.. ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"There'ya are, sport.. There'ya go." ….. As they would remark in
"Orstrilia".
August. 6th; 2000. …. Jennifer's Birthday…… 3.30.a.m…. Jennifer's time.
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