You will be missed, my old China plate
After a day and a half on the road making a border run to Nicaragua, it actually felt like I was home when the bus pulled in to the station around the corner from my apartment. My cat was pleased to see me. Although I had spent between 15 and 20 hours on buses, I like them. They are efficient and pleasant here, and I can gaze out of the window at the scenery, which never fails to enchant. Being here has made me realise how ugly, lumpen and boring London is. A very over-rated city. It was a trouble-free trip, and I had contact with a policeman only once, a decent score for me, given that trouble follows me like a puppy dog. I was very tired in Liberia, with a long wait for a bus. I came across one of those funny little road trains for tourists and kiddies, the tyres all flat and obviously out of commission. I curled up in one of the carriages and fell asleep, only to be reminded by a clearly amused policeman that this was not really the done thing.
The day before I left brought the sad news that Chas Hodges, one half of the band Chas and Dave – well, a third actually, as they also had a drummer – had passed away. I was lucky enough to see them, just the once, and in Margate, which features in one of their most famous songs. They inspired great loyalty in those who loved them. I have a friend who says he lost count of how many times he had seen them. Everyone seems to be dying.
The low season is here, although it hasn’t really started raining yet. But I will be broke soon if I don’t find alternative sources of income. I am getting hired to play bass with a local rock band, but there are just not enough gigs to pay the bills and the rent. And feed the cat, although I would willingly go hungry to buy her food. I am considering trying to get a course of philosophy seminars going, and I am honing my tarot reading. Everyone has that strange thing you didn’t know about them. Mine is that I can read tarot cards. Tarot is real, I’m afraid, and, although it cannot tell the future, it can tell the present.
The world of politics is as depressing as ever. I was accused the other day of writing ‘political rants’. Sure. I’ll keep doing it, though, mainly because I meet a lot of bored people who believe they understand politics but, as some north Americans are given to saying, don’t know shit. Today, I have seen a short piece about how Muslims have essentially taken over parts of Paris for their prayers, and I have started watching what is surely going to be a gruelling documentary about South African farm murders, made by Katie Hopkins. Hopkins is a real liberal hate figure but I admire her as I admire any dissident. These are the times when fighting is done not with weapons but with truth. The scandal of white South African farmers should make every Western politician hang their heads in shame. But they know no shame, just as we are not allowed to have any pride.
Arsenal beat Everton 2-0 for their fourth win on the trot and their first clean sheet of the season. Bloody awful defending, though, and the second goal was clearly offside. Unbeaten Watford next week.
I will leave you with a line from the book All About Us, which Chas Hodges wrote about Chas and Dave;
‘I wasn’t one of those kids who saved the best bit of his dinner ‘til last. I ate the best bit first.’