Memory lane

Yesterday, I visited the place where I lived for the first six years of my life. With a sudden burst of decisive action, my lady and I made up our minds to see the first performance of I am Montana, at the Arcola theatre, Hackney. An easy trip. Peterborough to Huntingdon, Huntingdon to Royston then straight through on the A10 into London and the theatre. At the end of the straight run on the A10, the road turns left and curves around to join Lordship Lane, before continuing on to Bruce Grove and then on into London via Stamford Hill and Hackney. I turned right. It should have been easy. the road curves round and joins Lordship Lane a little closer to Wood Green, and by turning left, we should have been able to drive passed the house where my Gran lived with her sons and daughters. We got lost. Nothing looked the same. Road signs had changed; there were one way streets; and loads and loads of traffic. A little drive around some of the back streets found us back to where we started, and this time managed to find the right road. It only goes to show that you should never go back. From what I remember of Grans house, which was in fact a three bed roomed flat over a post office, it had always been clean and vibrant. Yesterday, it looked old and tired. I doubt whether I shall ever go back there again. For the house, the past was dead. It had its own memories; of a large family, when if you looked out of the front window you could see fields; of the war, and unexploded fire bombs coming through the roof and the visits of girl friends of the sons of the family; of Christmas diners, sitting around a large dining table and eating until I was sick; of seeing my first dead body when my Gran died. These of course are my memories, of my own experiences and stories that I was told. Now they are only held in my mind and perhaps my sisters an cousins, so they will endure a little longer, but the house will forget. Anyway after the slight disappointment of seeing part of my past falling into disrepair we continued on to the Arcola theatre. I didn't have the nerve to go and see the flat that I spent my first six years in. We found the theatre, and after some indecision about where we could park; it is always hard to know in a strange place weather you are going to find your car towed away or locked in a multi story car park for the night, as has happened to someone very close to me. I am Montana is a road story of discovery, guilt, and love, performed by four actors who were uniformly excellent. all of them have reached this state by hard work and avoiding the get famous quick rout that so many try on television. It is a play of words, where the simple set does not interfere with the action, but is actually part of the action. It was moving, funny, scary and thought provoking, very often, all at the same time. That we surprised Mark was a bonus. That we enjoyed the play, despite it story, which was very dark, just made the journey worth while. If that was the first night, I can't wait to see how much they can improve it by the last night. O yes! Going home was a lot easier than the journey down. Less traffic, and better signs. 

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January 20th. No doubt to go down in the history books as Obama day. To any American readers of this mag, I hope it all turns out well for you, and he is able to fulfil all his promise. Forgive me if I take a more cynical view. Those of you, who have taken the trouble to read any of the rubbish I write, know my views on politicians, and even giving the new president the benefit of the doubt, he is, at the end of the day, a politician.

As a politician he is going to have to be pragmatic which means if he wants to be re-elected, he is going to have to follow the majority line, whish is going to leave a great many people disenchanted and let down. I hope it all turns out well for you, but I for one will not be holding my breath.

            As you can see by the date I started to write this, we are half way through the first month of the New Year. Has any one noticed if it is different to the last months of the old year? Governments still play monopoly with our money, dishing it out to banks so that they can pay of their foreign debts. I have forgotten exactly how much Gordon and his merry men have given away so I am not totally sure if what my next statement says is going to be true, buy if it had been carried out every one in the country would be feeling a great deal better. 

If you say that 60000000 people pay taxes in this country, (a guess), and if the government gave each of those tax payers £100000 that would work out as £6000000000000. Just think what we could do with our own money. Personal debts would be paid; we would all have spare cash in our pocket which we would be able to spend on what we wanted or needed; because of that, shop and factories would be supplying services and goods; there would be less unemployment and the treasury would have been able to retrieve its hand out by simply putting a couple of pence on income tax. The banks would be happy, (people in debt would have played them of so that there would be a surplus of money being returned to whence it came). The rest of us would be happy, having managed to dig ourselves out of the hole we had dug for ourselves. Business would be happy because we would literally be spending our way out of resection and keeping them in Business. Politicians would be happy, having given all of the taxpayers the means of getting themselves straight. A win- win situation all round you might agree, so does any one see a flaw in this simplistic answer to all our problems?

Of course, some people might simply sit on their windfall, putting it under a mattress or in some hidden cupboard under the stares; some might even spend it on foreign holidays and still remain in debt. Well if that is what they would do, they deserve to be in debt. For the rest of us I could see a return to a cash society, because how many of us would ever trust a bank again, when they have done exactly what the rest of us have done only on a much greater scale. It realy does make you wonder if the meek will inherit the world.

If we put politics and money matters aside what else have we to look forward to in the rest of this year?

I believe we have to remain optimistic; not easy if you are out of work with no income I know, but we have to keep trying. After all we aren't going to get help from any one else, are we?

Realy, the western world should put their troubles into perspective. Compare our situation with what is going on in the rest of the world. We do not have to carry our money around in a wheelbarrow as they do in Zimbabwe; we do not have to hide in cellars while some one try's to bomb us into submission; we are not yet at a point where we have to scavenge of rubbish tips; nor are we reduced to living in tents and living of turnips. We still have a lot to be thankful for, and even though I would be considered a miserable old git, I can still find little oases of peace and tranquillity.

One such was last week when I had a train ride to Ipswich to help raise the greenhouse that my lady wife and I gave to Emma Culture. (Every thing I tried to grow in it usually suffocated or died of dehydration, so it was better to pass it on to someone who will use it.) Thank god we took plenty of pictures when we took the green house down, otherwise we would be still scratching our heads trying to work out how it all fitted together.

It only took us 5 hours in the bone crunching cold to putt all the pieces in the right place, and tighten all the nuts. So the frame now stands in the Cultures garden, waiting for the glass to be put in. That is the next project. The glass is still here in Peterborough.

It took almost as long to thaw out, but it didn't matter. There is nothing more satisfying than starting a job and seeing it finished.

Staying with my daughter was a pleasure as was the train journey from Peterborough to Ipswich. I had taken the precaution of only using one suitcase, thus leaving my hands free for carrying my ticket in my glove. The suitcase also had the advantage of being able to be pulled along behind me, and believe me when I say that climbing the hill next to the station, that facility was a godsend, particularly on the last 15 meters. For that help alone, I could put up with any amount of teasing from my lady wife about men pulling cases behind them look a little twee.

I don't care! If I have any resolution for the New Year, it is to make life easier for my loved ones and myself. So I have started with the accumulated bits of paper that date back to the Stone Age, and have slowly filled every draw, cupboard, loft and garage. Why, O why do we collect so much rubbish?

Memories! I suppose! Trying to clear out the loft you come across old photos, and the detritus of bygone days. You might not remember the dates; you may not even remember when that particular item came into your possession, but you do remember the picture or the object and are carried back in time. Sometimes you may wonder why you ever kept a particular photo, (most photos that we take are far from works of art,); we may wonder what ever possessed you to buy such a hideous object, and you spend time wondering where it actually fitted in with your past surroundings. What should have been a quick job, has suddenly stretched it's self out to become a major task that is quite likely to take weeks rather than an afternoon. No wonder we creep away and leave the task undone.

Of course, there are times when, with a total disregard for sentiment, object are thrown out wily-nilly, only for it to come to light a week later that we suddenly have a use for it.

All this just to say that although I do not make New Year resolutions, it is a good idea to have projects, that have a beginning and an end. To actually have something to show for your labours, is very satisfying and improves your own opinion of yourself.

If any of you read my blog you will see that it was not posted on the 20^th. Any one who reads Beat Motel will probably find additional material, (I have no idea when Andrew Culture is going to publish the next edition). So for now I am signing off, with the certain knowledge that there is more to come.