Bad Day in London

Bad Day in London

Roger Miller may have found that England swings like a pendulum.  I found it to be dark and foggy.  The trip on the ocean ferry was all right, considering that I did not see a thing.  We left from the Netherlands in the fog and we landed in London in the fog.  People say that it is not always foggy.  Most people over the age of 50 will tell you that they remember a day without fog.  It is beautiful at night; a yellow halo surrounds each street light.

Juliana and I take the car with us this time.  We thought it would like to see    the country of its origin.   Fog lights are a requirement on cars in London. The yellow lights add to the oddness of the city.  People on the street appear to be a weird bluish color.  Many people in Great Britain have a bluish tint to their skin.  I believe it may be due to a lack of vitamin D.  There was not much sun in London during our visit. I have discovered that you cannot judge a country or its people in three days.  Many people complain about the food in England, but you can find food as good and anywhere.  London is loaded with find restaurants.  We had to spend two days in London proper because Juliana had some business to complete.  She was going to give a performance at one of the many theaters in London.  The theater at which she was performing is the Queen’s Theater.  Named to represent the Victorian era, it is a very old and beautiful building. Today, building something to reach its grandeur would be impossible.  Juliana will be choreographing a ballet based on Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream. 

We are to be the guests of the curator of the Queen’s Theater for lunch and so that Juliana can sign the contracts.  For me, the evening’s wear consists of a black pinstriped suit with a regimental striped tie, plain but practical.  Juliana is stunning in a white long-sleeve leather dress with a knee-length skirt.  She has on white patent leather knee-high boots with high heels.  To top the whole thing off, she is wearing a white leather hat with a wide brim.  The white brings out her dark complexion and her blue eyes.  Juliana’s mother is French and her father is German.  She is a sight to see, and as always, she will get all the attention.  We meet the curator; she is dressed all in red. She is wearing an excessive amount of makeup.  Her lipstick is bright red and very difficult to forget.  She appears to be in her late forties or fifties, but at 22, it is hard to tell.  She seems old, at the time.  Two boys accompany her to our meeting. I use the term “boys” because of their actions around her.  They are probably both in their thirties. Here we are in a public restaurant where Juliana is about to sign an important contract.  A contract in which half the value is more than twice my parents’ salaries in a year.  After signing the contract, Juliana hands me the check to put in my pocket, not to keep.  It is at that moment that I understand why Juliana can afford to stay in castles and drive a Jaguar. 

With the formalities out of the way, we all begin to talk and that is when things really start getting strange.  This lady has absolutely no class.  If fact, she is disgusting.  Her drinking glasses have a repulsive, greasy, red streak all the way around the rim. She is curious about where I came from.  I tell her “Arkansas.” She looks blank, so I tell her “the United States.”  She says, “Oh, the former colonies.”   I interpret this as a joke, but I do not believe she is joking.  Unexpectedly, she asks Juliana if she can have me for the day.  The lady does not even look at me.  I look at Juliana and just shake my head.  Juliana, with an evil smile, tells her “No.”  I swear the lady actually said, “I will pay you 100 pounds for him.”  Juliana says, to my relief, “No, he is mine.” I feel pressured to say something so I say, “Damn, I thought Great Britain outlawed slavery in the seventeenth century.”  The lady replies, “Damn, I forgot about that. I am so sorry, Juliana. I just wanted to hear him talk all night.  I just love to hear him talk even though I cannot understand a word he says.  He sounds just like a cowboy.” The lady and her boys leave and Juliana and I share a good laugh.  I ask Juliana what just happened and she explains that the lady is crazy, but not to worry because she only does those things to shock people.  I ask, “Is that going to hurt your chance of doing other performances?” Juliana replies, “No, she is just the mail carrier.”  The real people know she is crazy, but harmless. I had nightmares of that lady touching me with those big, greasy, red lips.  I still shudder when I reflect on this event. However, then there is Scotland.

©2012 Michael L. Wright