On the train to London, when asked,
He explained that he was off to see a show at the Royal Academy
A play at the Donmar, and maybe shop for books in one of the few bookshops left in
Charing Cross Road, now the
Philistines had won and the
Planning departments lacked a
David to defend them.
In the busy Wetherspoons near Baker Street station, where an industrious
Rodent scratched and chewed under the bench seat he read a copy of the
Tablet and explained to a barmaid who couldn’t care less, and had only
Just scraped through the English Language test for her diploma at a
Private college that he was going to a re-union of former priests.
She did not take the bait, and he returned to the sated rodent and a paper
Full of controversies he recognised but did not understand.
The routine continued.
In the bar of the Premier Inn opposite
Elizabeth Garret Anderson’s hospital he was a horse racing journalist.
In a bookshop in the Brighton Lanes on Saturday an
Academic researching the early history of British Trotskyism.
Each episode of his weekend brought a new identity. Even with the
Sex worker he could only just afford he pretended to be a
Sexual adventurer who wished to test her full range of services before
Feigning impotence, making his excuses and leaving
Poorer but no wiser.
The train home to Darlington was no better; he wrote
Furiously in a leather bound notebook he bought in Smiths in a
Cypher of his own invention, that even he could not decode.
Home, in Bishop Auckland,he kissed his wife, told her the
Central Committee had been bloody, as always,
Ostentatiously left the book of cyphered text on the worktop
And fucked her with genuine passion over the dining table in the
Half hour they had left before gran and grandad
Returned the boys from their carvery lunch.
At three am he woke, stared at the ceiling, and reran again the
Memories film of the last real meeting of the CC,
Central comm, not the Control Commission,
When they had all lied to each other about
Adopting deep entryism when what they meant was
They had failed, and no longer had an alibi for their lives of
His only rebellion now was these weekends when the
Central Committee re-convened so far as his family was
Concerned, and he lived another sequence of