Tag Archives: Musing

London, Musing

STUFF

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A few days ago, it suddenly dawned on me that I’m being consumed by a smorgasbord of stuff. Things I bought, things I inherited, just things. There are bags full of bits and bobs that I fear will make me look like a hoarder of useless items once revealed. I don’t know what I’ll find, but I do know that I can’t continue ignoring it any longer. I have to take a deep breath, pull open one of the many bags, and be prepared to ‘get rid’!

Many of us have corners in our homes that resemble this. Or maybe it’s that one drawer that holds everything from scissors, batteries, miles of charger leads and sundry other cables to magnets, badges, TFL (London Transport) travel maps from 10 years ago and rubber bands. Everything sits there, all jumbled up, just waiting for a chance to be used, a time that never seems to be now.

Enough is enough.

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I’m going to have a massive, stress-inducing clear-out. Heaven knows what I’ll discover. I’m sure some of the bags, boxes, and containers are full of stuff I don’t even remember buying – or indeed borrowing from the family home, however many years ago it was. All I know is it breaks my heart to see a room so unloved and unable to be what it should be because it’s filled to the brim with… well… I can’t really say with what, but I do know that to an outsider it must look as though I’ve just moved in, when in fact, I’ve been here for years. But where do I start? The task ahead of me looks absolutely enormous. I know that ultimately there will be a few things that I want to keep, but I’m sure as I delve deeper and deeper I’m going to find things that I didn’t even know I had, and maybe I’ll finally locate a much-treasured watch I bought years ago that I’ve been unable to find for more than 10 years.

How and why did I accumulate so many things, and why are most of them sitting here untouched?

Maybe I should organise a good old-fashioned, proper (non-vintage) jumble sale to find new homes for all these items. I don’t want to just throw things away, adding to the international landfill trade. Whatever I decide, I need to sort something out quickly before I close the door on that room completely and never enter again.

Poetry, Writer

Poetry

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1.

The sea takes me there and away

The raven laughs as boughs snap backs

It’s sudden and strange

This new day

Of golden farewells and black clouds of despair

Look me, look me

I survive, I keep neck straight

You cry as I struggle

Laughter, then crack

I reach my world as a dream

Its molten, the hate

Fear and confusion keep names at bay

Gone for a while now, mixed in a way

There’s news of a heart

But not as it seems, by force was this made

A sea to compel brings words to conspire

Taking of souls to cleanse the mind and begin

For some a stage

Legacy bears falsehoods and pain

To be gone yet survive is one destiny of status

To be here

To be there

To be sure

To be scared and confused

Am I me?

2.

The cracking of bones, no words to prepare

As cold hands take away all hope

The clouding of minds, as truth makes despair

In a home far from life

Filled with fear

The taking of life, all spoiled, no regret

As more sales bring favour and choice

The hating of skins, no more has repair

In a past, here, and now

Filled with pain

A history for hatred endorsed as a given

Deleting forever a soul that was known

Through time and deliverance, we see things unseen

Forge knowledge to the horrors

Negating, berating, be humble in hell

Whenever truth rears

We are free

3.

It’s warm outside

I can see the glow

A kind of calling just before the snow

We breathe it in and laugh at dusk

It’s winter we say

Each year

It’s the time we know

Yet the surprise is real

4.

You call him something

While viewing nothing

Using whipping words

Before the nines

It’s an isolating theory

Powerful in time

It works to weary

Each soul and space

He sees your history

You call him nothing

He rises and marvels at his power

He calls you lost

5.

Dreaming building hoping

The wave of despair seen receding

There’s more to discover

As passing whims hit the floor

And a revealed symptom of patience wins through

Current Affairs, London, Musing, Travelling

London Roaming

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Public transport in London provides some of the best entertainment an oyster card can buy.

Comedic arguments, raucous laughter, random sing-along with Liverpool football fans (always full of emotion) down for a London team challenge, giggling tutu-wearing fashion students seated next to rhythmically nodding young music lovers butted up against sleepy suited city gents are perfect exemplars of harmonious coexistence: something a few seem perpetually disturbed by. Then there are the tube-savvy pigeons just trying to get home after a full day of dive-bombing tourists in Trafalgar Square.

To each of these visions, the reaction by Londoners is forever hilarious. A slightly raised eyebrow, a brief glance, and a ruffling of pages from whichever free publication grabbed that evening. This is about as much response as they feel inclined to muster. Seen it all before you see. Nothing is a surprise anymore. Getting a seat on any form of transport these days is action and excitement enough.

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Also, I miss the old-style London bus drivers and conductors who were around during my clubbing days—many moons and night bus trips ago. The bus was their domain, and we all knew it. There was no arguing with them or trying to steam on through middle doors without paying, and there was no way you would ever cause any kind of disturbance on the top deck because, at the slightest sound of a raised voice or thump of feet from upstairs, the bus would screech to a halt.

Silence.

The driver would then leave his (mainly male drivers back then) position at the front of the bus, march upstairs, and then come back down, holding the culprit/s by the scruff of the neck before persuading them forcefully to leave the bus. No argument, no fuss. As usual, regular travellers would look up for a second without comment, then go back to whatever they were doing. Off we’d go again, secure in the knowledge that the bus was a calm, safe, and watched over space.

How times have changed.

Drivers are now reluctant to intervene in any kind of fracas or antisocial behaviour being foisted upon distance-trapped passengers by a few uncaring individuals for fear of legal action and potential sackings. Travelling by any form of public transport is risky, especially by bus, though as a traveller, you are now more often than not left to fend for yourself. Not a comforting feeling.

Written by Hillery Baptiste.