Hammersmith Halo

So, after the Harrow Humdinger I felt like I needed to give my parents some space.

My Aunt had immigrated to New Zealand and we decided to meet up in Hammersmith.

Her family had kindly agreed to accommodate me for our reunion.
D, our host was a sweet and welcoming hostess and our room was comfy and warm.
She showed us around her beautiful home, lovingly showing off her prized antiques and cherished collections. Her knowledge grown over years, their value - priceless.
We were left to catch up on ten years of news.
We chatted till the early hours and woke to snow and a steaming pot of tea.
I groggily donned a thick white gown and headed for the little room.

It was a very little room.

It was only big enough to walk in, shut the door, turn and sit.

As I closed the door and turned, I brought my arm up to my head.

The porcelain toilet roll holder came loose and described an arc above my head.

I looked up in horror, turning and reaching up desperately at the same time.

I watched it’s decent, hands fluttering.

The sharp splintering sound as it landed in the antique toilet bowl, brought D running.

I slid down to the floor with my head in my hands.

I prayed that this time I WAS dreaming.


London 2004

Harrowing Humdinger

My parents had been in London for over a year and I was dying to see them.

My mom , teaching for Capita in a public school had had a particularly grueling start.My dad at 68 was the caretaker of a block of flats, where he took out all the rubbish bags and cleaned the pool and locker rooms. He also delivered newspapers, pulling a laden trolley at 5.30am every morning.

Arriving in Harrow, seeing my dad waiting on the corner, after negotiating plane, train and bus was
marvelous. After dumping my bags we walked over to mom’s school and there were whoops of delight as she came out of the gate. A wonderful reunion as they showed me around their world. They were living in a room above the newsagent in Harrow and had been offered a room for me to stay for the duration of my visit. I was up the first flight of stairs and they were a floor above me. Dad worked for the newsagent and warned me not to be concerned if there was a lot of banging at 5am. This would be the newspapers being dumped just inside the door below me, ready for delivery. Mom and I tube to Piccadilly Circus like two excited teenagers. We eat and shop and chat and walk until the last tube runs and head off back home.I was exhausted. The flight, what with too little leg room, excitement and whatever disturbances go with sitting on the aisle, was sleepless.

Mom sets the alarm, locks the door and I frown as I notice about 5 latches attached to the door. Coming from South Africa I wonder if we’re safe? I head up the stairs and fall into a dead blissful sleep.

Somewhere very far away I hear calling, calling, calling. There’s been a lovers tiff and she’s locked him out – He calls for her over and over again. He’s desperate, he’s devastated. He calls and calls and calls.

She’s not listening and he decides to entice her with a fireworks display – the blue lights revolve around and around and around and stills she ignores him. I wake up so frustrated and think “What a pain woman, I’m trying to sleep here, just let the guy in!” after which he starts to get violent.

He hacks down the door in fury and I realize that I’m dreaming.
The dream turns into a nightmare as the noise gets louder and there’s lots of shouting and the lover is coming to get ME.
I wake with a start and sick feeling in my gut and there’s a policeman in my room!
A nude man appears on the stairway!
I don’t recognize either.
I recognize my moms frantic voice when she shouts from the top “Darling for heavens sake put some clothe’s on!”

The newspaper delivery couldn’t get in using their key, so the police had been called to break the door down. On returning late last night I did us all a favour and latched the door. Five times.


London 2004