Woke up at 6.15. Overcast skies. But not heavy rain clouds. Blood Pressure 108/77 Pulse 92 We are going to have lunch with Shelly Williams. We first went to Finchley Road- Sainsburys - to buy Bill Brysons new book. Its advertised in all the newspapers and on some tube stations. Beggar outside the tube. Woman in her late 20's - possibly muslim but no head scarf. Sitting on the pavement. Surprisingly not an unattractive woman. Looked you in the eye. Smiled but not the normal beggars middle eastern smile. I wanted to ask her why she was begging - but didnt. I gave her some change. She said thank you. There are constant announcements on the trains that tissue beggars are operating and we are told to ignore them. What happens is a woman comes and places a small packet of tissues on the seat next to you and goes on to the next carriage. She then returns and asks if you would like to give a donation for the tissues - or she goes and stands at one end of the carriage with her palm out in a begging attitude waiting for people to respond. I think that's what she asked because the one I encountered did not speak a word of English. I went and handed the tissues back and also gave her some money. I told her I was happy to give her some money and I didnt want tissues. She didnt know what I was saying and pressed the small packet of tissues back on me. She was an innocent girl in her early 20's maybe - maybe older. Thick heavy body. Not very attractive. Just bewildered I think. And trying to do her job getting some money. They cannot get much. No beggar is making a fortune. Looking at the begging cups there is never much money in them. Only small coins. There are so many small coins in English currency and none of them are worth much. Never see a note in a begging cup or Buskers Hat. Could not tell where she came from. Despite all of Ukips and Brexits claims I would say there are a lot of people in this country who do not have any access to social security. What are they to do? We then went to the Bank Of England Museum to take photo's of things we had neglected to photograph when we last went. Handels statement. Kenneth Grahame's letter of resignation. The act of Parliament Nationalising the Bank. The outraged headline highlighting it on the front page of The Daily Telegraph. We met Shelley at Shoreditch station. We took the bus from Threadneedle Street. We walked to Brick Lane and walked down the length of it sometimes taking diversions into side streets. Checking out the street food. We still had not decided when we were confronted by a spruiker outside a restaurant extolling what we could get inside. I made an executive decision and said yes. When we got inside we found we were the only customers. He was offering 3 courses but no naan. But we wanted naan as well. We compromised and said we would pay extra. This is how they make their restaurant pay. By charging big money for naan. We were lucky to be inside. It started to rain pretty well as soon as we sat down. Then it hailed. But the food came and it was OK. Shelley said he was ravenous. He did not get home until after 2 last night and had drank too much beer. We were in the restaurant for over an hour I would think. Shelley had to go home to have a sleep. As we were eating various other tourists came in. No Bangladeshi's though. The spruiker was having some success. We walked along Brick Lane the opposite way to last time. We discovered that our restaurant was not the only place with a spruiker. There were many more Bangladeshi men in evidence than last time we walked through. These men are lucky. They are all about my age. They can come to London and live in a wonderful city. With ease it seems. And they have a community to help them. They are all dressed in their native gear. Not many woman are evident. All men wear prayer caps. Flowing trousers. Sometimes the clerical looking gown. I did see one man such dressed man smoking. How is this? Smoking is banned in Islam. Anyway the place was heavily populated with Bangladeshi men. Some in groups. Talking. Some sheltering from the rain. They all seem to wear the same footwear. As well as everything else. They are all dressed the same but why do they wear the same footwear? They all have some kind of beard. Not all have the full beard. But I suppose they comply with the rules by having a semblance of a beard. Brick Lane and the Whitechapel, Stepney Green area are a bit like what Earls Court was 45 years ago. If I came to live in London I would try and live in this general East End area. Shelley lives in Stoke Newington. A bit further out but still quite acceptable. We took the tube to Westminster. Its always spectacular to walk out and confront Big Ben. We wanted to walk to Piccadilly Circus and then along Piccadilly to No 1 London. But it was raining and sleeting. So we went to Baker Street by tube and had a cup of tea in a Pret. I had two cups of tea and a short snooze. We were home by 6.30. I purchased a bottle of French wine. Its not cheap and its not real good. I do think Australian Wine is better. We watched a documentary on The Dave Clark 5. Dave Clark was lucky in a way but also smart. He planned it all. He was careful. He used all 100% of his talent which wasn't much. But he was very astute business wise. He owned all his copyrights. He owned the master-tapes. He got paid 4 times more on each record than the Beatles were paid. He was the manager of the group. He was his own manager. He bought the rights and tapes of Ready Steady Go. He controlled all his contracts. He didnt sign up with anyone and subsequently did not have trouble like The Beatles, Stones and others had with money later on. Paul McCartney and Elton John were interviewed complaining about their predicament and how unfair it was that Dave Clark came out of the 60's unscathed by management and not them. Neither of them own their songs. You have to say that Dave Clark has not aged that well. His face looks like it is melting. Blood Pressure 135/72 Pulse 74
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