The arguably strange and sinister overtones to the at least superficially friendly exchanges which have taken place in the last few years or since
I moved back into easy walking distance of the Town Centre between this Gentleman, his family and myself now seem to be more explicable in
the light of the suggestion that what has largely been omitted or neglected from any realistic appraisal of myself is the fact I was savaged by my
Mother and her family and friends as a child rather than having ever been anything like a genuine friend or spontaneous co-conspirator of theirs.
I have for instance put it that the apparency of my own Mother's conversation with myself as many or perhaps most have accepted it is a deception
engineered by herself and her Nephews rather than anything else.
What was relevantly of the suspicion that he was likely to have served in the same unit as the eventually deceased Grandfather of the majority of
my maternal half brothers as they were both about the same age and had as far as I know been indigenous to the Borough for many generations.
Five years ago my moving into the Road had heralded the last time that he managed to get in and out of the house on his own, and I didn't recognise
him then as someone I had run across many years earlier. It has only been within the last two years or thereabouts that I realised he had reminded me
of the fact or at least that was what I thought he had said. This seems to have been accompanied by some statement or apology for the fact of his own
deafness having significantly been the cause of some misunderstanding with the relatively new management in the Spreadeagle Public House in 2010.
If as I suspect it was the case he was a notable figure among the Town's post war Labour Movement he may have been to some extent embarrassed by
the suggestion that they had taken advantage of blackmailing threats and suggestions largely originating from my Mother's family instead of exposing them
to legal censure which it seems I really needed: especially since 1985 when they entered into some unwelcome understanding with a |Solicitor by the name
of Smythe. Offhand I would have said that this or some disagreement about this, was the cause of some apparent estrangement from his firstborn Son and that
a quite a number of significant sub plots are inherent to the suggestion that he spotted my Father and his family around Town some time after, perhaps during
or even before WW2 and associated them with high level arguments about its outbreak.
I would have said this was unquestionably a significant element of the conversation which has just taken place and I would tend to suggest that his own
respectability had been perhaps clumsily plagiarised by the contemporary ambitious political wannabees though there could easily seem to be a good deal
more to it than that. What occurs to me as tragic especially for himself, was that I didn't realise he may have had a motive for hiding certain facts from me
as he was taken off to Hospital so troublingly soon after his recent return from said Institution; though it is indeed true that I realised I arguably had a motive
for hiding things from him, swiftly after realising when and where it was that I had encountered him in younger days. His family seem to have been resigned
for some time now to the fact that he wouldn't leave the House to go into a Home where he could be more easily cared for in terms of physiological medicine.
The point is I suppose that I could easily have performed in the role of an emergency response which I had recently been given to understand was quite an
expensive luxury for one so advanced in years. Living and working across the road within whispering distance it wouldn't have been a significant additional
burden or responsibility. In trying to have a little reciprocal concern for neighbours whom I've asked to take some interest in my articles about the worthlessness
of the so called Legal Representation their taxes pay for, I had noted that the nice young couple Holly and Neil who moved out of the House on the top corner of
to hunt for, I had recently picked one up in a sale.
So I'm ruefully staring at this electronic device which would have made a perfect panic alarm for an elderly neighbour running through to my Office and having an
awful feeling he might not have been allowed back home because he didn't literally have it.
A number of minor coincidences tend to suggest he did know my own Father and in some respect had over the course of a War in the forties which it seems
had cost him his hearing, come to resent the impression that he was mysteriously the subject of some unusual interest from on high. What seems to have just
happened is that he was quizzing me about my denials of having possessed or used such interesting secrets as an unworthy sort of blackmail tool and has had
to acquit me whilst confessing that I had been led into some hostile intrigues in the early eighties on the basis of similarly spurious information. He seems to
have pointed to the fact that I or to be perhaps more correct We, had always recalled having partaken of a local Labour Leadership Election in the Winter of
1980-1 in which Jamie Cann had superseded Ken Weetch as Labour nominee, but that my assumptions about what has taken place subsequently are erroneous
in that Weetch,
in fact represented
It seems fair to infer that there was arguably some sort of cover up of certain unseemly facts about the involvement of one or two young people with crime
including drugs and that this succession was arguably deferred as a belated attempt to distance the local Party from grubby allegations about the way it duped
and exploited vulnerable young people. It might likely be the truth that he was perhaps on the basis of the fact he recognised me as being a particular baby from
a particular sort of unusual family context, trying to say something along the lines of him having assumed what was said about me that year was true: at least that
is until I turned up in the Flat across the Road about five years ago screeching on about Dissociative Amnesia. This would be why copies of letters I wrote to the
local Labour Office about my legal difficulties in the eighties and perhaps the early nineties have been oddly trying to surface amongst my Papers and Possessions
and I did get the distinct impression he made salient reference to these.
I had offered somewhat more in the way of attention than the tending of his neglected garden along with the refurbishment of my own rented premises which had
seemed appropriate: it wasn't much extra work and it gave me a super opportunity to show off my design skills. Thinking he must be bored with just a TV for
Company, I had also suggested to his Daughter about three and a half years ago perhaps a bit less, that it would be little further inconvenience for me to deploy
and configure a Computer for his edification. Amongst other things he was stone deaf and it would have been quite a challenge to have attached him to a Computer
on some worthwhile basis.
It may also unfortunately have been the case that he had only just realised that my Father's surviving Aunt (six months older and at least as far as I know she
remains extant) had circulated fictions overemphasising the utility and acumen of Labour, of Party Politics in general, as well as my own interest in and relation
to these Institutions at that time and perhaps before. Insofar as I have been seeking to raise this formally in various respects, I have pointed at the fact of two
recent cold blooded vigilante
killings in her home town of
absolutist attitude toward citizen's rights which is no longer anything of a reality if it ever was. It remains the case that I've never had a single word of what could
reasonably be termed legal advice, never met a Lawyer who wasn't a gruesome, toadying, reactionary f***, or gave a tinker's cuss about citizens rights other than in
respect of the fact a pretence of such gives them an excuse for avoiding manual labour.
Except perhaps when perfidious, posturing, proselytising politicians, present pestilential pestering, pontificating
persiflage, preying and propagandising a pauperised populace ..................
So if I seem maladroitly tardy in proffering a useful suggestion or two it could perhaps be said to be significantly his own fault if the gist of these surmisals is correct.
I did realise that asking him to condemn the youngest Son of an old Army pal as a stinking miscreant misfit wasn't the easiest or most congenial of propositions for him
but it was one I couldn't afford to avoid making.
I would have said this nonagenarian was a principled, reasonable, reasoning, and highly motivated personality I've rarely been so impressed with the input I've had
from such characters as survived active service in WW2. I would have said this was probably because he did have a distinguished service record and that unlike
most old soldiers who tend to play up to their destructive and often pointless exploits, it is one of the few concrete pieces of information I have about him that he
refused point blank to talk about the War at all.
Generally speaking he seemed to exude a deep distaste for War and a hearty contempt for Warmongers so I'd guess he'd lost a brother in the last great conflict or
perhaps something like that as during the time I've been his neighbour I've recalled quite meaningfully on at least several occasions that I am in fact an only child.
One remark that's absolutely screaming out to be made here is that it is the most enormous kind of shame on our nation and our society, that such sacrifice as he has
clearly made in the cause of national honour hasn't cleansed the nation of its population of backsliders, traitors, profiteers and perverts as numerous recent grim exposes
of the cream of society under the last Tory Government attest only too well.