Ponderings on my Wanderings

January: mend things, clean things, maintain things.
In search of elastic to fix a rock'n'roll petticoat, I meandered into Barnet's handicraft shop, only to overhear an upsetting conversation that made me want to cry. The man was ranting to a customer about having a pension and not being allowed to work (eh? what was he doing there?) and then launched into a rant about ' You're not supposed to say it, but these asylum seekers, over here, taking our jobs, they've all got a car and a flat while our people...'.
That's the third time I have heard this rant against refugees in shops in Barnet; once was in the pet shop (you lost my custom, pet shop), twice was in the Oxfam shop (I know! What a bitter old bag that was!) and then again today. To my shame, I didn't tackle the others but today I had to. I told him that he would lose customers if he talked like that and it's a recession and it's not a wise thing to do under the circumstances. I told him that I did not agree with what he had said and that I would never come back to the shop again.
He apologised.
So what? He was worried about losing custom, not about being nasty.

Years ago, Arthur from the Lurkers came round to our flat in Camberwell; we were friends with him, as my ex-partner's band King Kurt did a lot of gigs with the Blubbery Hellbellies, a group who had grown from the Lurkers. There, we had an elderly couple, George and Molly, living upstairs who were very kind to us- they had a shop at the Oval and used to leave a little basket of vegetables on our doorstep every Friday evening.
In spite of the fact that he went over the road at least twice a week to buy his fish'n'chips from (also) George-over-the-road, who was Greek, George upstairs would proudly tell us that he asked George-over-the-road every time he went there, when he was going to 'go home' to Greece.
I talked about this with Arthur for some reason, wondering whether this was because his generation had been though a World War when people from other countries were 'the enemy'.
Arthur would not allow me to make this excuse for George upstairs.
"Everybody in this country is well-educated, and well-educated people have no excuse whatsoever for ignorance', he said.
Arthur was right. We share the same sun, the same sky, the same problems on our little planet whizzing through space.
I am feeble about challenging wrong things sometimes, though not always, but from now on I will do more than simply boycott shops with racist staff. I will always speak up and tell the shopkeeper that I think their views are offensive and hurtful.

Before I get trapped in an alley of moral blab, let me change direction! I have finally admitted to myself that I can't see a thing and have to get a proper pair of spectacles. You see, I want to make a good job of these illustrations for the book of Martin's lyrics and peering through a hazy mist at a shining sheet of white paper trying to decipher my own lines just isn't an option; I bought the paper today, lovely shiny CS10 (now out of manufacture, according to the man in the shop) and am heading up the road for en eye test later.
So, see you later. I need a cup of tea.