Woke up at 6.30. Blue skies with clouds.
Blood Pressure 106/70 Pulse 91 We decided to go to Wimbledon and to take the Tram to Croydon. We had to change at Earls Court so I took the opportunity to revisit where I used to live. After 45 years my memory is not precise. This is odd because I used to love living in Earls Court. I loved it so much I should remember everything precisely. Its taken as a joke that I lived in Earls Court. Such a stereotypical place. Yet I did not know one other Australian who lived there. Not that I would have spoken to them anyway. I didnt want to speak to Australians. I thought I would be living in England for the rest of my life. Earls Court was exciting. There was always something happening. There were always buskers in the station foyer. There were always eccentric people outside Earls Court Station. Weirdly dressed people. There were always people handing out flyers in the street. There were always people just standing around looking at other people walking by. And it must be said sometimes finding humour in the situation. Laughing out loud that is. Transvestites came to the Wimpy Bar on friday nights. When walking to Eardley Crescent from the station I would hear someone practicing his drums in one of the basement flats. He was so broke that he had to play along to whatever was on the radio. He did not have a record player. He had to rely on what was currently on the wireless. Opposite him was an Italian Soup Kitchen in the basement. No table clothes on the wooden tables. I only ate there once but the Minestrone was fantastic. There were always signs up everywhere advertising jobs. After I moved to Earls Court Square - 33B - I lived with a car mechanic and three girls - we didnt have television. But I could always go and watch whatever I wanted to see in the Pub. The last tenant had left a very large telephone bill in his name but attached to our address and the girls said because of this we couldn't hire a TV. Or get the phone on. Earls Court was on 3 lines. Piccadilly, District and Circle line. It was easy to get to. In planning my return to London I thought for pleasure I would just sit on the train for 3 circles of the Circle Line. Its not possible now. They have taken Earls Court off the Circle line. And the Circle Line is not complete. I cannot remember a school being in the Square of Earls Court Square. There is one there now. I don't recall which route I took from the station to get home. Earls Court Road seemed to be much wider then than it is now. There were a lot of very good Indian Restaurants in the streets off Earls Court Road. I was taken to eat by an acquaintance who was a salesman. He had a Credit Card - the first I had seen - and he paid for the 6 of us who tagged along with his Credit Card. It made me think that Salesmen had immense power. I remember the food was exceptional also. There is not one Indian Restaurant in Earls Court now. Well not one that I would eat at. Not one down a cellar in a small room that caters for poor people. We had french fries in MacDonald's because we needed to use the toilet. We spoke to French Student studying Medicine in London who sat next to us. Very personable. Said he felt slightly guilty because his parents paid for him to come to London to study. And he also had some kind of student loan he would have to pay back. He has been in London for 3 years. Didn't speak English before he came here. He originally came from The Cameroons. Spoke excellent English. He likes London but is not really integrated into England. He will return to France when he is qualified. He is definitely on the side of the striking junior doctors. One of the girls I lived with in Earl's Court Square was Welsh. She had a degree in something and worked as a PA to an executive. She was a nice girl. Heart of gold. Not classically beautiful. But quite impressive looking. Not a fashionable dresser. No short skirts. No elaborate hairstyles. Very little makeup. A sensible, respectable well behaved girl. She had a boyfriend - Eddie - who she spoke about constantly. Eddie was married and had two children. I would say that Eddie was in his mid to late 30's. She would have been 21 or 22. She would tell you Eddies history. Children's names. Where he lived. Where he worked. She didnt see him very often. She could only see him when he could organise it. He would turn up sometimes when he only had minutes to spare for her. He would sometimes come for an hour and they would socialise with the rest of us as if there was nothing abnormal. Sometimes he came for all of saturday afternoon. He would just walk in and sit down and continue on talking to the rest of us from where we left off last time. They would sit holding hands and stroking each other. In fond embrace. He was a very sociable guy. Together they would casually talk about his wife and children. He was a nice guy. I liked him. She lived for Eddie. It was Eddie this and Eddie that when you talked to her. We had a party one night and Eddie turned up unexpectedly. We did not have the phone on so he couldn't warn her he was coming. She was ecstatic. She could show her Eddie off to everyone. And she did. Proudly. When he did turn up they never adjourned into her room (which she shared with the other 2 girls) for sex as far as I recall. The way she spoke I knew she loved him and would have done anything for him. But I cannot recall them ever organising themselves into an intimate position. Very, very occasionally he would take her out to dinner at a restaurant. And drop her off with a passionate kiss afterwards. She did say once that they had been away to Wales for a weekend together 18 months ago. She never expressed any dissatisfaction with her circumstances. Never. She only gave the impression she was happy. My distinct memory is watching the three girls all getting their breakfasts in the small kitchen at the end of the hall most mornings. It was always cold and dark with only one small bulb illuminating the scene. All the girls silent but cooperating. I often thought it would make a good photo but I didnt dare to ask. I didnt have breakfast. My bedroom was at the end of the hall at the other end of the flat. We had a long basement flat. When we had heavy rain we sometimes had to put down boards for the girls to walk on because water seeped into the floor in the kitchen area. We took the District Line from West Brompton to Wimbledon. My local pub is still boarded up. West Brompton was only on the above ground system 45 years ago. It wasn't a tube station. It was not a much used station. But it had its own Station Master. Now its on the District Line. The line goes over the Thames at Putney. When James was in London he stayed in East Putney. We can tell him we have been to where he lived. We got off at Wimbledon. Had a good look around. There is a large shopping area under cover. The population reminded us of the demographic around Knox City. Not as many people from Asia but much the same economic strata. Not many black faces. Not many head scarves. Not as varied as Preston Road is. I think we like Preston Road better. Jenny had a sausage roll from a supermarket and I was persuaded to try something that was claiming to be Jamaican Jerky Chicken from the same supermarket. It wasn't. It tasted like burnt overcooked chicken. I have yet to eat something that is genuinely Jamaican. Shelley Williams promised to take us to a suburb that is teeming with Jamaicans but I feel he is going to let us down. The Wimbeldon live theatre that used to be art based in 1970 is now showing tourist inspired productions. Its the same with all the theatres. Only a few have any avant guarde productions. We took the new Tram from Wimbledon to Croydon. The name is a bit misleading as for the majority of the time it is like the St Kilda light rail. But for part of the way - through Croydon - it is on the road. Competes with cars. Quite a good nought to twenty take off speed. Not much in Croydon of interest. Large buildings. Enormous recent development. About as much to interest us as Croydon in Melbourne. I wanted to keep the faith and go to South London. We did a bit of a cooks tour across South London. It had a few interesting viewing spots but it was mostly similar to North London. When I lived here I never went into South London except when I was taken in a car or had to visit someone. It was a foreign country. There is a running joke about the north south divide. Not the northern and southern hemispheres but the divide between north and south London and never the twain shall meet. In real life it is a bit like this. There is some truth in the myth. But we have done our duty and been to South London. I got a chicken Wasabi Curry on the way home. I asked for the wrong one because I didnt know exactly what I wanted. You have to ask rather than point. But apart from that it was OK. Jenny had leftovers. There are no genuine Indian Takeaways anywhere. Absolutely nothing on TV.
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