A terrible thing happened yesterday. I was on the W15 bus travelling towards Bakers Arms in Leyton and we passed through Whipps Cross Hospital. I looked out of the window and at the bus stop were two burly uniformed bods dragging from the seat to the bus a man of about 60 who was obviously out of it (it’s a hospital) and definitely not with it. He was mishandled to the extent that he lost his dignity with his belly hanging out and then being shoved onto the bus by the two bods. Those two said to the non-concerned driver (aint they like robots these days? Mind you, if you get a chatty one, your day’s made!) that he  (the zombie one) gets off at Walthamstow.  I thought to myself, “Well they don’t check Freedom Passes then?”  They pushed him into the seat next to me and got off, strong African accent an’ all, and the doors shut.  I was gobsmacked. No-one seemed concerned. Four stops down the line the zombie got off the bus and curled up on the pavement, face down.

I was fuming. UK 2011! London! Human being! Whipps Cross.

I asked the driver at a suitable chance whether that were an hospital discharge. The driver said , “Those security guards do that all the time. Put them on the bus,  give me no fare and say to go to Walthamstow. They never get to Walthamstow”. I told him it was unfair on him, the driver, and  got off the bus then immediately phoned the police with my trusty mobile.. The child cop at the other end of the 999 call was as digusted as I was/am.

On the other hand, I am not surprised. Whipps Cross!

Before all of that I’d come out of Cathall Rd swimming pool into hot sunshine. How lovely the area is: Green grass everywhere, roses on the bridge, a good children’s park nearby and a road called ‘Melon’. I see shoppers still use the Dyers Hall Road bridge going from Grove Green Rd to Leytonstone High Road. I only knew it recently as a rape crime scene. I used to use it years ago: The last time I was in labour, bent double after leaving my chicken shop shift and needing to get home. Of course I never knew this was the real labour stuff and made myself a hot milk to get to bed and sleep. Nope that was a baby on the way. No more chicken shop…Hooray. It’s all a muddied memory now unless I use precious energy to recall everything. What I do know is that the house I owned then is now next door to a mosque. Who’d have thought?

Today is Rosh Hashanah.

Whatever next? Rio Cinema showing “The Lavendar Hill Mob” and “Kind Hearts  and Coronets” . Even my mum knows the scripts back to front and she’s dead.  There’s always a round of old films going on in London. Usually free but for what?  I looked at them to see what they’re all about. Nah! If the cinemas are going to be knocked out cos of the mega ones (Hackney, Westfield) then the independent ones have got to up their game and stop regurgitating. It’s like senior groups trolleying out war films and Al Bowen cds.  55+ aged  people are the watchers of post “Summer Holiday” films and enjoy Reggae, drum an’ bass, punk and add on. Still, it’s a market place out there and nothing to do with customer satisfaction really.

See that the workers in Asda get productivity totals each day. Work and motion, eh? On the tills, “Rings per minute” and scanning percentages. And they still smile and greet. Love ’em.

“You can’t please all o’ the people all o’ the time”

Waltham Forest Council is putting on a free Christmas party in Chingford but just for older people.. The Eid and Diwali parties were for all generations and of course the invitation went out to all residents.
Older people inhabit the age group from sometimes 50 but definitely 60 years and onwards. In that span there are such differences that it becomes a challenge to pitch any entertainment appropriately. It’s worth a revision and a bit of market research. I, as a senior, would like to reiterate that the 60 year olds in any London borough come from many ethnic backgrounds and that we were the Hippy generation, the rebels, the Mods and the Rockers, the Profumo affair generation, the Pill pioneers and the topless dressed ones. We are the Reggae stompers, the Dylan troubadours, the first time immigrants who wore ties to breakfast, the ones who formed women’s groups and multi-cultural settings. We run local radio shows (Streetlifefm) and volunteer in the community at local theatres (TRSE) and community action groups. So move over Dean and Frank for a while. Connie, get you to the tea dances where the 60 year olds are invisible. We aren’t all the same eggs in the same basket. What the 76 year old allegedly wants is not what we rising elders want at all. Get me?