Rage Ten

THE MCiCtAN DAILY

Saturday, August 7, 1976

LodmA city of cn t

explained my situation. H.
stroked his white moustache in
a dignified manner.
" ELL " 'HE SAID, earnest-
ly, "This isn't the first
tyme it's happened (he pro-
nounced it 'heppened') with a
long piatferm and two trynes,
they ought to do something
about it. But since it's a kyse
of a genoowyne mistyke, they
ought to let ye git beck te Ped-
dington styshun (in London) fer
not hin."
He pondered some more, and
addressed a tall, grinning man
who was slouched in the booth.
"She didn't come here fer a
joy ryde, Bill," he said.
For the next 15 minutes, as I
shifted from foot to foot, the
stationmaster argued with him-

self about whether I should
take the 5:15 the 7:30 or the
9:15 back to London the next
morning. The first went back
to Waterloo station in London
instead of Paddington (the sta-
tion where I originated the
trip).) But though the second
one went to the proper station,
it was not the first train.
C'learly, he reasoned, L should
take the first train to prove
that I had not got on the wrong
train to sight see in ahot spot
like Weymnouth - whict. boasts
a harbor and a few cows. But
then on the other hand, the
9:15 was the one which hon-
ored cheap day - return tic-.
kets - -
WHEN HE finally settled on
the 5:15, I moaned in-
wardly, but resigned myself to

getting up at 4:30. I called my
friend in London, who laugh-
ed hysterically and warned me
not to sleep in the station -
something I had no intention of
doing in 40 deg. weather. I
stumbled through the fog to,
the nearest hotel, the name of
which I have fortunatelv forgot-
ten. t waited for the manager
to fini, closing the bar, and
Uninaded my story on a tipsy
old lady.
"H e y, Marjorie," she
screamed. "This young person
has got on the wrong train!
She thought she was goin' to
London!"
Marjorie, a large, big-toothed.
redhead of indeterminate age,
yelped with glee and hiccupped.
"Well, this ain't London, is

it?" she cackled, wagging her
head from side to side.
rJIIEIR COHORT, a middle-
aged naan, came to join in
the fun.
"Well, you couldn't have got
any further, or' you'd be in
the sea, yuk yuk," this person
humorously. I admitted he had
a point there, and waited for
the manager to give me a key
and lend me an alarm-clock. I
ate some peanuts I had, and
tried to get some sleep in the
unheated room. The springs
stuck up in advantageous
points through the sheets.
Next morning I dashed down
a block to look at the sea and
bought a postcard in an open-
ing newsstand. A headline in
the Daily Telegraph caught my
eye: "Martha the Mouth Dies

people who can:

Alone, Pood." I got on the
train, thinking about a scan-
dal that seemed worlds away.
The trip back to London
proved both free-a relief, since
I only had a couple of pounds
left - and uneventful.
AFTER A WHILE, a young
t soandsat-:opposite mein
the second - class compart-
ment.She offered Me a ciga-
rette and we got to talkin, in-
evitably aboutethe States. I
learned that her name was
'Karen, she was a clerk some-
where in Knightsbridge (an ex-
pensive shopping area near
Hyde Park) and that some day
she planned to visit San Fran
Cisco.
Of her life in England, Karen
talked in practical terms. "I'll
never..get to the point in my
job where I can sy, 'do this'
(to someone else) and have it
done," she pondered. This is
because apparently it is not
only harder to make enough
money to get anywhere in Eng
land, it is -even hrder to rise
in the ranks.
I remembered my friend in
Bath telling me that none of
the regular residents there
could afford the flat she was
living in, which was nice but
not spectacular. And I thought
of the many remarks our groui
had caught: "Look at those
fuckin' rich Americans.' "Yois
Americans can buy the world
Even in well - dressed Chel
sea, we were all acutely con
scious of the economic prob
lems England is suffering. Mar
garise on the bread for break
fast. Furniture needing re
pairs. Boxes everywhere with
the legend, "Give to the Poor.
And everywhere in the streets
hums - old men playing vio
bns, old men digging through
garbage cans and sipping bee
from the glasses left outside
the pubs, crazy old drunks
talking to the machines in the
laundromat, and women laugh
ing at them . . .
When the conductor came to
punch tickets, Karen owed 40
pence on her ticket. I paid it
so she could get to Knights-
bridge - and maybe, some
day, to San Francisco.
. There IS a
. difference!!! :
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!"- ranches m Ma* r 05 M.+es

If you can spend some time, even a few hours, with someone who needs
a hand, not a handout, call your local Voluntary Action Center.
Or write to "Volunteer," Washington, D.C. 20013 Weneedyou.
The National Center for Voluntary Action.
**sNO** nOM yeedie*9ta*