London.
About, 3 weeks ago, I had the pleasure, to visit London again, with my friend, Rick. It was rather, impromptu, in nature, but Rick, did ask me, to accompany, him, to London, once more, on what, more or less, seemed, another, business meet of sorts. It was a rather, cold dark evening, in Harare, on a tuesday, when the Lufthansa, flight, destined, for Heathrow, London, takes off, to a rather, more or less, cold reception. It appears, that the passengers, do not, appear, to be, too, enthusiastic, about, traveling, to the UK itself. Am seated, near the back, of, the first class, with Rick, on, my side, and his having, his, laptop computer, on, and opened. Rick, did not, notify me, in, good time, about, the whole trip, but not, feeling too jaded, I decided, to put in, the effort, in getting, all my papers & passport, ready, for the whole, endeavour. Rick apparently, had some, business appointment, of sort, that he was determined, to keep, and despite, all my, previous talk (since the last trip), that, in no way, could London, ever, become, the center, of, African business, Rick, was determined, to prove himself right.
The flight itself, was rather, uneventful, but I did, find myself, looking around, again, at the, passengers, and cabin crew itself, for no, really good reason, in itself. The hostesses, were rather, cordial, and even, rather, helpful, with any, problematic situation, that arose. Being on a, Lufthansa flight, I did, for some reason, notice, the many, blonde headed women, on the flight (assuming them, to at least, be, Deutsch). About, 11 hours later, we arrive, at, Heathrow, and we all, begin, to rise, and ready, to leave, the plane. Rick has been, rather silent, on, this flight, and unlike, on the last, was not, busy, perusing, through, any, paperwork, but was, actually, mostly, deep in thought (as with, imagining stuff). We are on, our feet, and as we, tumble really, out, of the plane, I cannot, help, but notice, how, rather cordial, the, European folk, appear, to be (including, the rather, many, smiles, from, European women, noticeably, rather European). We eventually, all left, the plane, and, began, to make our way, in, and about, Heathrow itself. The whole procedure, is not, rather, too complicated, but, seeing it, more, as a process (due to all, the, security stops), I wonder, to myself, what, could really, be amiss (the whole mood, given out, is that, there, is danger, in the atmosphere). Out finally, and into London itself (as I see it), although Rick, and others I believe, see it, as being, only out, of, the Airport itself. Rick surprises me, on this trip, as he, readily, gets a, rental, to take us, to our, destination (I am more, of the, routine kind, when dealing, with, such endeavours; I even want, the same, taxi driver, as last time).
Inside the car, and speeding off, to, a destination, I believe, is the same, as last, I do, take my time, to look out, of, the window (and even find, myself, wanting, to ask, Rick, to take, a different route, to, our destination), but instead really, sit rather, silently, as Rick, is not, the, conversant type, when driving. We finally, arrive, at, the last, neighbourhood, we lived in, where, as I mentioned before, Rick (interestingly enough, despite, Londons, high mortgage rates), has an, apartment, and we set, about, getting in, into, the place itself. The apartment is very much, the same, as we last, left it, and as we, settle in, I can't help, but fathom (maybe due, to the cool breeze, in my room), how Rick, is, able, to afford, all this (or even really, maintain it). For me at least, I think really, of all, the money, that would, be required, to maintain, such a place, from a, distance. Rick does not, talk, about, stuff like this, but seems, to handle, his matters, very much, like an, Arab Sheikh (thoughtful, and slowly). We settle in, and after (again), a quick lunch, at the Chinese restaurant, rather not too far, we are, back, to the apartment, as Rick, sits around, with the TV on (thinking), and I, grab, a hold, of some, newspapers, and magazines, as to check out, whats really going on, in England. All this goes on, for several hours, as watching (and reading), turns to, thought, contemplation (even aloud), and finally, conversing (of a sort). Rick, is talking politics, and wondering why, food prices, are rather high, in England; I take that in, for a moment, but am back, to the papers, and magazines, and asking somewhat, why, the people (in the papers & magazines), are rather, dressed French, and even, in suits. I find, suits, rather uncomfortable, and as I look, at them, I wonder to myself, what goes on, in a London, filled, with folk, dressed in flashy suits; (its a rather, wondrous, observation). Some time later, Rick suggests, that, we head on out, as night, is slowly, creeping in. I am off, to my, room, and as the changing process, is going on, I can't help, but look out, of the window, and wonder, at where, the London I believe, really existed, is. A London, of Church spires, bakeries, and even, low rise buildings. Its all apartment complexes, where I am, and soon after (with dressing done), I am back out, to the living room, to find, Rick, also, very much, looking out, of the window, before his, turning, as I stand there, looking at him. We are in the car again, and off, to a rather, small party I believe, after Rick, suggests, I change, my pants, to something, more representable. Rick does not, talk much, as he is, always, in thought, and I cannot, help (again), but look out, of the car windows, as we speed, into, a dark (and very much, dusky), London (It always appears to me, that London, is always, in the front, and one, is never, truly, in it). We are off (as in away really, and speeding), and soon enough, begin, to arrive, within, the City. The City itself, appears, to be, rather multicultural (as they call it, but to me, looking, multi-ethnic), and as we get there, I can't, but help, look at, the more or less, divided groups (by colour), milling around, the City (or truly really, London).
We soon, eventually, arrive, at a part, of the City, that is, actually, rather white to me (in ethnicity), and arrive again, very much soon, at a spot really, that looks, more or less, like a, restaurant & bar, and very much also, wood paneled (and in many ways, what I believe, represents, culture, in the Western world). We are out, of the car, and making our way, into, the restaurant, which surprisingly, is also, a club of sort. Rick, I notice, presents himself, very much, as an, Arab Sheikh would (for those, not, in the know, a Sheikh, is simply, someone, who is a rather, good conversant, on all kinds, of, opportunities/potentials). As we make, our way, into, the restaurant, I cannot, but help, notice (or feel really), the female presence, all around me (I have never truly, felt, any tension, with most, European male folk, and while in Europe, do consider, the Female, to be, the deadlier, of the species). And while Rick, strides into, the place, with a, rather, confident gait, I, on the otherhand, kind of, meander in, as if, expecting, reproach, of some kind. There are people around, some dining, and as we head, to, the head counter (acting somewhat, as a help desk), I do wonder, how, to present, myself, in all this (Rick, is actually, younger than me, and expects me, to know, how to, handle myself, in such situations). The tension is in the air, and I, being rather, sensitive, to my environments, do find myself, putting on, an air, of some kind (the tension, is very much, feminine). We are truly in, and standing, looking around, almost having left, the dining section, and now moving onwards, to a separate section (separated, by, plant life really), and we, begin, to actually, move along, with the crowd inside. A while later, while looking around, and noticing, that, Rick, has actually, left my side, and upon again, looking around, to really spot him, I find him, near, a window sill (large windows, and rather European), seated there, near, another group, almost, as if, checking out, the whole, situation. I feel fine (and even good), on seeing him, as such, and as I meander, around, looking lost (as in wondering, how I can get, a drink), I do spot, a rather, small bar, at one, of the corners, of the room (it appears though, the bar, takes, standing orders; as in, standing, in the room, and having, a waitress, ask one, for their order). I find myself, standing, firmly, in spot (legs apart, to the front), and as I start, to believe, the waitress, won't be, making, her way to me (at any time soon), I somewhat rather, quickly discern, wahts going on: join a group, hold sway perhaps (in conversation), and have, the waitress, join you (for a tete-a-tete, as in, an order). My head, turns rather, jerkingly (at first), and then, swiftly, as I look around, for Rick; (Rick has a group). Another quick jerk, sees me, staring, at the bar front, and head waiter, who appears, to, very much, have noticed, me, and is busy, wiping, a glass (rather large), with a polite (I believe really), smirk, on his face. On seeing him (and his smirk), I do turn, to notice, the rather, eagle eyed stare, of the waitress, simply, staring at me. I look, at the waitress, for a moment, and even, begin, to feel, another presence, on my back (that of, the Attendant, at the front), and it slowly, but suddenly sinks in (into me), that I must, find myself, a group (to join), or be, very much, forced, to leave, the premises. It is at this moment, that on, twitching really, do find, myself, gratefully thanking, the presence, of, pockets, on my pants, as my hands (one really), dips, into them (in attempt, to look, gentlemanly). Never before really, have I, felt, this way, and as my, eyes, sink in and look down too (rather downcast I would say), a tap, on my shoulder, notifies me, of a presence, I believe, would be, of help. I find myself, turning, rather slow (but very much, aware), and on looking, at the, blonde, blue eyed man (late twenties), that tapped on me, I notice, Rick, kind of, staring at me, while the, blonde blue eyed man, offers, his hand, in greeting (Honestly be said, I do find, myself, more comfortable, with, European men, than with, other, kind, of folk, including, Middle Eastern). I take his hand, not too, warmly, but rather, questioningly, and as I join, the group, wonder, at the female presence, in it. On later reconsidering, the whole situation (problematic), but rather, an ordeal for me, I do realize, that, I work well, on, tension, with European folk (By this, I mean, I kind of, speak my mind). In many ways, on much more, thinking (having later left, England), I do believe, that I am more, of a, Count, by nature, when in Europe (for those, not in the know, Counts, are people, who in general, seek, to diffuse, tension, or angst, in all its forms).
The whole evening, was rather, enjoyable (but not), as conversing, with, European women, took to be, a rather, difficult task ( I could not, simply, find myself, able, to place, their accents). The men, were rather, cordial, but it appeared very much, they feared, being put, on the spot, by me, and the women, in the group (In many ways, I believe, they saw me, as being, rather knowledgeable, and the female presence, as rather, intelligent). Rick, on the otherhand, appeared, to be, faring well, with his role, as, Sheikh, and appeared too, to be doing, rather alot, of talking. In my group, it was rather different, As I, being a Count, awaited, for the other members, to talk, and then (as I am accustomed too really), settle, any disputes, that would arise (favouring none, but rather, my own, disposition). My group members, on the otherhand, believed me, to be the originator, of any talk, that would arise, not knowing, that genetically really, I am rather, disposed, to talk about, incidents, hamburgers, and even, the latest movie watched. I did say something though, I rather wish, I did not, as on turning, to Josephine ( a rather pretty, English girl, in the group, and looking, rather too, French), I happened to say, "Too many suits, in London, I wonder why that is?" The other group members, looked at me, in surprise (they, mostly being, rather, fashionable, as with, a Fashionista), and Josephine says to me, "Well, its rather, the custom here". "Custom?!!", I found myself saying, "and why is that?" (I say all this, with a feeling/stares really, that I am being, urged on). "Thats whom we are", she says to me, as she slightly, stares down at me, with the others, looking on (I am the shortest person, in the group). "But why?" I find myself saying, "But why what?", she says back to me; "But why, suits, and so many?" I ask (feeling rather, predatory, and staring too, right, into her eyes), "Well, I guess, they like them." I do find myself, rather, slightly, taken back, as I supposed, I would, at least, get a, cultural explanation; (after all, the suits, are in fact, shiny). I look back, at the other members, and they seem, to be, actually, deep, in their own thoughts, and Mike (the man, who introduced me, into, the group), says something, short, and rather, succinct: "Its just a wave". 'A wave', I find myself, thinking, before, it hits me, at how, Londonish, that term, really is, as waves, are too London, what tides, are to, oceans I believe; (in general really, what I am getting at, is that, the rest of the world, appears, to have, trends;). "Whats a wave?", I do find myself, asking, Mike (rather questionably), as Josephine, looks on, before, saying, "A wave, is simply, more or less, a fashion statement". I find that interesting, and to say, the truth, feeling rather comfortable, in the group, ask, "And whats the statement, they are making?!!" "I do not know", she says back to me, "but I guess, its whom, they are." Silence again (for no real reason, I can discern), and upon, looking at, Mike, again, another member, in the group, says to us, "I guess, it means...", he says, rather throatily (while taking a pose), "that, they are, rather, crafty". A rather direct hit (or response really), but not, it appears, of the English conversational mode (they only, responding, to requests), and as I look at him, I do find myself, saying, "Crafty...., as with crooks?!" A turn back, to Josephine, tells me, that, she finds, that, a bit tard, offensive, and with no, reply, forthcoming, the camaraderie, in the group, appears, to break off, and the group, slowly, begins, to break away. I don't know, what to say, but three members, actually, leave, the premises. I did join, another group, but did not, fully, find my niche, as a Count, as everyone (in it), appeared, to want, to be one (or even rather, a Countess).
About two days, later, Rick does tell me, that, we will be, going out, again, and on the previous day, I did find, myself, able, to look around, the City, but not, as much, as I expected. Too many people, all over, and most, not of my taste (I am rather, sensitive, to my environments, and folk, with negative energy, or attitudes, do adversely, affect me). I did however, find myself, buying me, a book (literature rather, or atleast, in taste), and it is, by, Brillat-Savarin, and titled, "The Physiology of Taste" (A rather, interesting read, I must say, and Savarin, believed, to have been French, is actually said, to have been, Californian/and fed up, with America, and then having, moved, to France). On the day, of the party (or even really, a short period, to it), I did have, the time, to look through, a map, of London (rather astonishingly so), as it was, rather large, and having found it, underneath, my bed. Most outsiders (or even those, living within), London, do attempt, to place themselves, squarely (in it), as to, feel safe really (London, is rather large, and dark, in feel). The map opened, does show, several, sections (or boroughs really), of what, makes up, London. I look through all them, and upon, further study (internet wise too), do really, discover, that, these so called, boroughs, are actually, large neighbourhoods (as in, large neighbourhoods). I discover too, that, we are located, in, Westminster (and that, is actually, a good thing I suppose), but I still, do question, how, I fit, into, the whole place (believing myself, part European) [I am not, of, European descent (as with blood), but actually, of, European origins (as with history). As a Middle Easterner, one finds, that all, Middle Easterners, are actually, divided, into, People, the most famous, being, the Arabians (of Saudi Arabia). I, on the otherhand, actually belong, to a group, referred to, as, Arabe (Islamic-European). Jemima Khan, is actually, Arabe, but of the, white hue]. I do find that, Identity formation, in Europe atleast, has taken, three phases, in the recent, past centuries. In very much, recent times (as with Modern Europe), Identity formation, in the UK/London, has actually, very much, been based, on, what Borough, lived in. In many ways, most, strongly identify, with their, boroughs, and there is a, general, discriminative culture, against, those, who do not, belong, to a borough, of sort (some of this, discrimination, can be, rather harsh, as with, the prevention, of a person, even, entering, a building of sort/club for instance). For most Londoners, this is how, they create, Identity. You do find though, another way, of creating, Identity, in London, going back, to the ends, of the, Napoleanic era. It is an Identity, of the wealthy really (upper class), and associated, with what, they call, Houses, in English royalty (as with, the Tudors, and even, the Spencers). It is, in many ways, an Identity, associated, with, Englands economic problems (and even wars), and also, very much, about, manifesting, Order (as in, the wealthy, act, as a form, of, intelligentsia, in resolving, Englands, very much, political problems). Interestingly enough, this Identity, is very much, white and black, in colour (with black, acting, as advisors, and also, very much, forming, a servant class) [Those identifying, with, Boroughs, are rather, multi colour, in make-up, and come, from across, the world]. This Identity, of Royalty (and Houses), is believed, by many, to be, what, European history, has been, about, but is not, really so (it all, happening, in rather, recent more times). There is however, another, older identity (more UK, in nature), and based around, identifying, with, Englands Architecture. This Identity formation, is rather, old, and goes back, to an England, that was, white and brown, but today, only, existing, in London (with the City, and Westminster). An Identity really, not really taught about, today [as for most, Englands history, has to do, with, Order/Charles Dickens, and, Royalty/Houses] [Not with, Richard, Symbolism, or Monarchy] [I do believe, I represent, the Theban Cross (as with Richard really, and not, the flag of England)].
On the evening, the party, is to be held, once again, I do find myself, getting dressed, and ready, to leave. Once more, we are out again, into, the car, and speeding off really, to a, party destination, unknown still, to me. We do arrive though, at a location, in, Westminster itself, a mansion of sorts (really English), and do find, an array of cars, parked in the front, and into, the mansion itself. An intimidating scene (is what I think, at the back of my head), as we steer around (Rick really), looking, for a parking place. One found, not too much, later, we are out, of the car, and making, our way, to the party. Rick, seems rather, enthusiastic, and as we make, our way, to the, party itself, we do find, all sort, of, activity, taking place, at the outset (and entrance too), to the house. Several people really, in talk, about nothing much really (it appears), and drinking, all sorts, of drinks, in and about, the place. We are in, and looking around, just to be, met, with the sight, of, a large, presence (as in many people), milling around, talking loud, drinking, and even, some, prancing about. I wonder, what it is, we are doing here, as this does not, appear, to be, Rick's, kind of scene. Rick looks around, as if, appearing, to be, looking out, for someone. I stand in place, looking around, kind of shocked (if not, totally surprised), at the free running spirits, displayed, and rather, in contrast I believe, to the rest, of London. We begin to walk in, into, the room (to a few displays, of, welcoming outbursts, which, are met, with a rather, welcoming, quiet, from me at least). Rick, does find, whom, he is looking for, a rather, tall, black African, Muslim, and named, Elijah. Greetings abound, and Elijah, in a rather, low, monotonous tone, at least, motions me, to be seated, somewhere (lots of high rise windows, 3 at least, in the room, with rather, comfortable, looking, window sills), to which, I at least, take reprieve to. Rick, stands talking, with, Elijah, and I begin, to look around me, and the room, as I remain, rather, comfortably seated (Window Sill sitting, is a rather, old, European custom, often, of the, self-entertainment mold, and rather, still, enjoyable, in Europe at least). As I am seated there, I kind of find, myself, looking around, without, too much, of a passing interest. I see the people (rather English), and all, the laughs and guffaws, but still, feel, rather, an outsider, to it all (despite, my rather, good English). To understand all this, is to understand, the history, of Europes (or Londons at least), Society (social scene), as it has, changed, in the last, few centuries. In present Europe (and London), social Identity, is created, rather, through Physical looks. It is a London, of fashion, and even, very much too, hairstyles. This social scene, comes into place, with, the creation, of modern England (and Boroughs). Earlier times, in London (and Europe), see, a rather, different way, of, creating, social Identity, based on, Etiquette and Manners. This, is a Europe/London, that most, believe, to be, European history, as it, arrives really, after, the Napoleanic era, and is one, of, successive, Kingships, each, attempting, to create, a new Europe, based on, new manners and etiquette. The most famous, of these, is, Napolean III, and his being, crowned, Emperor of France. In England though (where these successive Kingships, are known, as Periods), it is the Edwardians, that become, eventually, historically reknowed (they, of fox hunting, fame) [for me at least, this Europe/London, reaches, its pith height, with the, Victorians]. In many ways, a very white (socially that is), Europe (with black guards), and very much, societal, in nature [as in laying, the origins, of Europes, class structure]. As I sit, rather musing, to myself, I cannot help (while looking around), to recognize, which European period, the party, represents; It comes of, as being, Englands, rather famed, English culture, that sprouts up, in post Napoleanic France, and whereby, men and women, compete, with each other, on whom, can put on, the most, makeup, and still, remain, looking, rather decent (or as they called it, Pompadour) [In many ways too, the world, of Annie Lennox, and especially, as seen, in, 'Walking on broken glass']. A young lady, passes by me, while smiling, demurely, which I take, obviously really, as a hint, of interest (but truthfully said, I do not know, what to do really, about it). In many ways, this is not, my London (that of, Etiquette/Manners, or, Physical looks). My London really, is that, of Art [and pre-Napoleanic & Napoleanic, in time]. A world, best represented, by, Shakespeare, and defined really, with, Ribaldry (as a communications protocol), and filled, with Poetry, Poets/Bards, and Philosophical works (historic, in nature) [throw in, a sword fight, or two]. I do expect, somewhat really, to feel, rather left out, as the scene, appears, to be, rather, different (culturally too), than what I expect [in many ways though, the history, of, rampant discrimination, in Europe/London, belongs, with the Europe, of, Physical looks, and not that, of, Etiquette/Manners] [That of, Physical looks, has discriminative habits, targeted, towards, non-Europeans, and rather too, extreme, in its nature; similar in all, to discrimination, in America] [That of Etiquette/Manners, is instead, rather, stereotypical (but still, accepting all), and mostly, targeted, towards, Africans (black); in many ways, a world, whereby, one, must fit, into, white manners (and etiquette), and as mentioned, most discriminative, towards, African blacks].
As the party progresses, and I still, on, my window seat (sill really), I am approached, by a voice, which says to me, "They are all crazy!". I turn, to look, into the face, of a, young lady, whom, I immediately, notice, not to be, European. She motions, to join me, on my, window seat, and as I, move, to accept her, offer, she sits by me, and when, having settled, closely says by me again, "They are all crazy!". I look around me, and do not feel, any sense, of reproach, and rather feel, rather safe (maybe, it all being, due, to my knowledge, of, Pompadour). I look across, the room, and see, Rick, standing, with another group, appearing, to share, some laughs; (laughs, to the unkowing reader, are rather, honest, comments, not to be taken, too seriously, or, offensively). The young lady, who introduces herself, as Debbie, begins, to talk again, of her experiences, in, London so far (more existences though). And as she, is talking, I get ready, to interrupt her, by asking her, whether, she is, American. She takes this, rather, taken aback, and even, looking, rather, slightly ashamed, and as she, statingly says, "yes I am", I notice her, accent, to be rather, different, from, conventional American, and from the looks of it, rather, Celtic (in nature) [think Gwyneth Paltrow here]. She continues on, by saying, that, she is studying, English literature, at a, British University (which surprisingly enough, turns out, to be, Oxford), and as she talks more, of her, experiences, in London, the more, she begins, to obviously look more, as an, Americanista [Legion] [From the looks of it too, despite, talks, of no money, she definitely, won't be, returning, to America, any time soon]. Debbies unhappiness, appears, very much, to do, with not, understanding, upper class, English societies, manners & etiquette, and while, they, are rather, philosophical (in speech), she appears, very much though, to be, grounded, in deep thought itself [observing things, rather than, perceiving them]. More talk between us (with her leading, the way), whereby, I do, advise her, to study, English philosophy (as with, philosophical works), rather than, Literature; my belief, is that, the Literature, will not, really help her, understand, her world, unless, she develops, a rather, discerning mind [one not taken, to denial itself]. From more talk, she appears, to be, rather, unhappy, with England (although enjoying her studies), and I do find it, hard, to broach, the subject, of group Identity, as with, whom, constitutes, her People [she believes herself, to be, nouveau English, but unknowingly really, is actually, Americanista (Legion)]. She does talk, of, employment issues (on graduating), and as she does so, I do find, myself, advicing her, to probably, seek out, employment, in Turkey (where hopefully, she will run, into, the many, Americanista [Legion], members, living there). Later on though, after some more talk, she does leave, and soon after, Rick, motions for me, to prepare, to leave too.
The very next night, another party; this time, a Dinner party. We are all, dressed up (me and Rick), and soon again, headed out, of the, apartment, into, Ricks, speeding car. Soon later, at the outskirts, of the City, we arrive, at a home [Manor in style], and approach it, rather, slowly (for Rick at least) [and I, rather apprehensively]. It appears, very much, this is why, Rick, is visiting, London. We are in, and at the front, are packed, two Range Rovers, and a, Lexus, parked out front. We get out, of the car, and as we, approach, the front door (I rather silently, and Rick, appearing, apprehensive), the door, itself, appears, to open, rather suddenly (as if, manned, by a ghost), and a figure (butler really), comes out, to welcome us in [An England, I have only seen, on TV]. We are ushered in really, and as soon, as we are in, are shown, into, a rather, large, living room space, with, 18th century, European decor. The house, is rather, interestingly, decorated, and towards, the entrance, of the living room space (to the right), is a Kitchen. There are people in it, preparing, some drinks of sorts, and Rick, walks in, gentlemanly (as if, having, recognized someone), with I, looking in, rather, apprehensively. We are both invited in, when Rick, is recognized, and as, greetings, are rather, slowly, exchanged (looks really, on me, and on my part too), I eventually, find myself, making me, a cup, of tea (not really knowingly, but after, an invite, to get a drink). While doing this, I do hear, a rather, gregarious voice, burst out, from the living room, which makes my head, jerk (rather slightly), to the rear, as I distinctly, hear myself, say out, within me, "K" (alluding really, to the fact, that the voice, does belong I presume, to, Keira Knightley). Tea at hand, and a rather, slow walk, into, the living room, does find me, distinctly, looking out, for, Keira Knightley. I do notice her (rather distinctly even), and amongst the group, I do see, a blonde haired, blue eyed man, who did happen, to dine with us, last time (rather buffy too), and recognizably, known as, Frank. Everybody, is rather, seated around, or even standing (in a group, consisting, of 7), and as I truly, join in (as the seventh member), I stand a-still, as if, waiting, to truly, join, the group. I sip my tea, and on, calmly, lowering, my cup, do find, an unknown, body, introduce himself, to Rick, with Rick, gesturing (as with a nod), and a shake of hand, as a response. The group, somewhat, turns to me, and as it does, I do, distinctly, notice, Keira Knightley, point at me, and say, "And you are, Georg,.....Georic?" A slight pause, "No" I find myself saying, "Georgic". "Georgic", Keira Knightley repeats after me, as one of the men, in the group (rather draconian too, and dark haired), turns, to look me, distinctively. Small talk flows, which I do not, join, into, as the dark haired man, takes control, of the, situation/scenario, to paint, a rather, interesting picture, of, the world, and world politics [one, mainly based, on, personal musings, and some, English Liberalism]. Later on, with laughs abounding really, we make ourselves, to, a nearby, dining table set, in another room (through the living room space). Seated, and dinner served, the conversation, continues, to flow. I, Rick, and Frank I notice, are rather, more or less, silent, with the exception, of the occasional, question, set at Rick, and the, occasional too, comment, by Frank. It is while, all this, is going along, some time, into, the dinner, when Frank, says out something aloud, that somewhat, set backs really (and even unsettles), those, at the table. "I am thinking, of moving, to America", is what, he says, to the silence, and stares, of just about, everyone, at the table. I am seated, directly opposite (rather really), from, Frank, and when, he says this, my eyes, which are, rather focused now, at Keira Knightley, seated, at the end, of the table, begin, to make, a rather, slow, tormentous journey, towards, Frank, noticing nothing much (on the way), and ending, when Frank, becomes, rather slightly, noticeable. "Why?!!", makes my eyes again, turn swiftly (and even rapidly), towards, Keira Knightley, as I peak, my ears, to listen, to Frank. "I just don't, really....like it here, anymore", is what, he says, before, being met, with, a pause. "Whats not, to like?!!", another female member, at the table, questions out, at Frank really. Frank looks back, at his food (all seen really, from the corner, of, my eyes, still facing, forwards), before, looking back up, and even, slightly, at Rick, and he says, "I just think, its more fun, on, the other side, of the atlantic; besides, there is just, more stuff, to do there". Another silence abounds, before, the Female member (Anna they call her), decides, to leave, for the Kitchen, for a while. "What, don't you like, really?" asks, the dark haired man (towards Frank), before, my somewhat turning, towards, Frank, to look at him. For the first time really, I feel, no tension, at the table (at least, on my very skin), and with no, answer, forthcoming from Frank, the dark haired man, says again, "we could do something for you, that you might like; you could choose, to live, in America, for a while, or even, part time, at least". Frank does not seem, responsive, to all this, and with a slight, sigh, says again, "I'll think, more, about it, and say something, later on". Anna: [having returned], "I don't know Frank, whats not, to like, about England; I find it, joyful here, to say the least". Another silence, which seems, prolonged, and I questioningly (directly even), look at, Rick, and find myself, saying, "must be the rain". Another slight pause, from us all, and Frank says, "It just might be, the rain". I do take, the moment, to philosophize it all, having been, grasped, by a seizure, of creative impulses, and with a point, of my fork, state out loud, "maybe, a change, in, emotional well being, would do". Frank, as if, not expecting, to hear much, somewhat, looks at me, as Keira Knightley, says to me, "How so?" With a slight pause, and a small, lean back, I find myself, somewhat stare, at, Annas, blue eyes, and find myself, saying again, "Its all really, in discovering, ways, to express yourself, that make you, happy, and in many ways, forms, your existence". "Well", begins Keira Knightley, "that does not, tell us too much, does it?". "Maybe he means, material existence", says the dark haired man. I sense out Frank, as he sets back, somewhat, at his dinner, and I find myself, saying (after a quick glance, at Rick), "Not really, I am really, referring, to how, one, sees themselves, as an, Emotional being"; That is met, with a silence. "In many ways really" I begin again, "Being, an Emotional being, has to do, with, adapting, to our worlds, sufficiently well (and even, enjoyably)", I muster out, as a finality of sorts. "What exactly, does that mean?" asks Anna (with a small dose, of curiosity). "There are four ways, at least, one can view, themselves, as an, Emotional being: blood based", I begin, with a finger count accompanying; "water based, hormones based, and even too, neuromelanin based". Another silence, and I proceed on "In many ways really, how one, adapts, to their, environments, and finds them, enjoyable, has to do, with what, we use, to define, our, Emotional beings: blood, water, hormones, or as I said, even, neuromelanin". For instance, take you guys" I begin again, "you do, the water thing; you seek, to feel well, by, drinking, lots, of water, and even, eating too, lots, of fruit". Without a pause really, I continue: "your environments, even reflect this, as you appear, to seek out, rather, cool environments, for pleasure". The dining table (and accompanying room), is rather, cool. They all take, a moment or so, to swallow, some food, before, I continue: "the people out there", pointing towards, the atlantic (and at America), "do the hormones thing". "Their emotional being, and enjoyment, is driven, very much, by, adrenaline and in many ways, defines them, as people". I explain really, that, their life (American), is driven, by, hamburgers, sports, sex, and even, arguments, which are all, enjoyment forms, driven, by, adrenaline. Frank takes a moment, to fully, pause, and somewhat, look at me, as I somewhat, look, into his eyes. "Most out there though, do the blood thing still, and in many ways, are driven, to seek out, a comfortable, material existence". There is another pause, and a somewhat, downcast look, from, Keira Knightley, before I state again, after, another full pause "I personally, do, the neuromelanin thing;" "How so?" asks Anna (with some enthusiasm); "Its complicated I say", not wishing, to divulge, any aspects, of my personal life, in many ways, "but in many ways", I continue, "it is what, makes, an Arabian, capable, of sitting out, in, the desert, for rather too long". With a side glance, at Frank really (even fully), I say, "Maybe Frank, thinks, the adrenaline stuff, is fun, but in many ways, it will totally, change him". Frank somewhat pauses, as he somewhat, shakes, his head, before, I continue, by saying "in many ways though, being, a water based being, means, living, a life, heavily, based on, the 5 senses". "Stimulating them, if you must", I finally state out.
Conversation, does proceed, with Frank again, enquiring, about, how to really go about, stimulating, ones five senses. I do mention, that, there is a difference, between, exciting them, and, stimulating them. Exciting them, I say, is rather, product based, while, stimulating them, is mostly, action based. As an example, I do mentioned, a good smelling, well cooked, steak. I don't really say more, but someone (Anna that is), does say, that, smells, are rather, prominent, in London. I agree to that (almost immediately), but do also, mention, that they are, of, the exciting type. Englands upper class, are heavily, driven, by taste (as in buds), but in many ways, exciting them (as their food, is rather American). "Some French cuisine, is real, stimulation", I add, as the dark haired man, looks at me, as if, I have, every intent, of destroying, Americas, Ranching industry. My Europe though, has always been, very much, sound based, as with, a particular, type of music, certain voice sounds, and even, certain, activity (as with sword fights). I do not, really mention, all this, but hint at it, rather, strongly.
Two days later, we leave for Harare.
About, 3 weeks ago, I had the pleasure, to visit London again, with my friend, Rick. It was rather, impromptu, in nature, but Rick, did ask me, to accompany, him, to London, once more, on what, more or less, seemed, another, business meet of sorts. It was a rather, cold dark evening, in Harare, on a tuesday, when the Lufthansa, flight, destined, for Heathrow, London, takes off, to a rather, more or less, cold reception. It appears, that the passengers, do not, appear, to be, too, enthusiastic, about, traveling, to the UK itself. Am seated, near the back, of, the first class, with Rick, on, my side, and his having, his, laptop computer, on, and opened. Rick, did not, notify me, in, good time, about, the whole trip, but not, feeling too jaded, I decided, to put in, the effort, in getting, all my papers & passport, ready, for the whole, endeavour. Rick apparently, had some, business appointment, of sort, that he was determined, to keep, and despite, all my, previous talk (since the last trip), that, in no way, could London, ever, become, the center, of, African business, Rick, was determined, to prove himself right.
The flight itself, was rather, uneventful, but I did, find myself, looking around, again, at the, passengers, and cabin crew itself, for no, really good reason, in itself. The hostesses, were rather, cordial, and even, rather, helpful, with any, problematic situation, that arose. Being on a, Lufthansa flight, I did, for some reason, notice, the many, blonde headed women, on the flight (assuming them, to at least, be, Deutsch). About, 11 hours later, we arrive, at, Heathrow, and we all, begin, to rise, and ready, to leave, the plane. Rick has been, rather silent, on, this flight, and unlike, on the last, was not, busy, perusing, through, any, paperwork, but was, actually, mostly, deep in thought (as with, imagining stuff). We are on, our feet, and as we, tumble really, out, of the plane, I cannot, help, but notice, how, rather cordial, the, European folk, appear, to be (including, the rather, many, smiles, from, European women, noticeably, rather European). We eventually, all left, the plane, and, began, to make our way, in, and about, Heathrow itself. The whole procedure, is not, rather, too complicated, but, seeing it, more, as a process (due to all, the, security stops), I wonder, to myself, what, could really, be amiss (the whole mood, given out, is that, there, is danger, in the atmosphere). Out finally, and into London itself (as I see it), although Rick, and others I believe, see it, as being, only out, of, the Airport itself. Rick surprises me, on this trip, as he, readily, gets a, rental, to take us, to our, destination (I am more, of the, routine kind, when dealing, with, such endeavours; I even want, the same, taxi driver, as last time).
Inside the car, and speeding off, to, a destination, I believe, is the same, as last, I do, take my time, to look out, of, the window (and even find, myself, wanting, to ask, Rick, to take, a different route, to, our destination), but instead really, sit rather, silently, as Rick, is not, the, conversant type, when driving. We finally, arrive, at, the last, neighbourhood, we lived in, where, as I mentioned before, Rick (interestingly enough, despite, Londons, high mortgage rates), has an, apartment, and we set, about, getting in, into, the place itself. The apartment is very much, the same, as we last, left it, and as we, settle in, I can't help, but fathom (maybe due, to the cool breeze, in my room), how Rick, is, able, to afford, all this (or even really, maintain it). For me at least, I think really, of all, the money, that would, be required, to maintain, such a place, from a, distance. Rick does not, talk, about, stuff like this, but seems, to handle, his matters, very much, like an, Arab Sheikh (thoughtful, and slowly). We settle in, and after (again), a quick lunch, at the Chinese restaurant, rather not too far, we are, back, to the apartment, as Rick, sits around, with the TV on (thinking), and I, grab, a hold, of some, newspapers, and magazines, as to check out, whats really going on, in England. All this goes on, for several hours, as watching (and reading), turns to, thought, contemplation (even aloud), and finally, conversing (of a sort). Rick, is talking politics, and wondering why, food prices, are rather high, in England; I take that in, for a moment, but am back, to the papers, and magazines, and asking somewhat, why, the people (in the papers & magazines), are rather, dressed French, and even, in suits. I find, suits, rather uncomfortable, and as I look, at them, I wonder to myself, what goes on, in a London, filled, with folk, dressed in flashy suits; (its a rather, wondrous, observation). Some time later, Rick suggests, that, we head on out, as night, is slowly, creeping in. I am off, to my, room, and as the changing process, is going on, I can't help, but look out, of the window, and wonder, at where, the London I believe, really existed, is. A London, of Church spires, bakeries, and even, low rise buildings. Its all apartment complexes, where I am, and soon after (with dressing done), I am back out, to the living room, to find, Rick, also, very much, looking out, of the window, before his, turning, as I stand there, looking at him. We are in the car again, and off, to a rather, small party I believe, after Rick, suggests, I change, my pants, to something, more representable. Rick does not, talk much, as he is, always, in thought, and I cannot, help (again), but look out, of the car windows, as we speed, into, a dark (and very much, dusky), London (It always appears to me, that London, is always, in the front, and one, is never, truly, in it). We are off (as in away really, and speeding), and soon enough, begin, to arrive, within, the City. The City itself, appears, to be, rather multicultural (as they call it, but to me, looking, multi-ethnic), and as we get there, I can't, but help, look at, the more or less, divided groups (by colour), milling around, the City (or truly really, London).
We soon, eventually, arrive, at a part, of the City, that is, actually, rather white to me (in ethnicity), and arrive again, very much soon, at a spot really, that looks, more or less, like a, restaurant & bar, and very much also, wood paneled (and in many ways, what I believe, represents, culture, in the Western world). We are out, of the car, and making our way, into, the restaurant, which surprisingly, is also, a club of sort. Rick, I notice, presents himself, very much, as an, Arab Sheikh would (for those, not, in the know, a Sheikh, is simply, someone, who is a rather, good conversant, on all kinds, of, opportunities/potentials). As we make, our way, into, the restaurant, I cannot, but help, notice (or feel really), the female presence, all around me (I have never truly, felt, any tension, with most, European male folk, and while in Europe, do consider, the Female, to be, the deadlier, of the species). And while Rick, strides into, the place, with a, rather, confident gait, I, on the otherhand, kind of, meander in, as if, expecting, reproach, of some kind. There are people around, some dining, and as we head, to, the head counter (acting somewhat, as a help desk), I do wonder, how, to present, myself, in all this (Rick, is actually, younger than me, and expects me, to know, how to, handle myself, in such situations). The tension is in the air, and I, being rather, sensitive, to my environments, do find myself, putting on, an air, of some kind (the tension, is very much, feminine). We are truly in, and standing, looking around, almost having left, the dining section, and now moving onwards, to a separate section (separated, by, plant life really), and we, begin, to actually, move along, with the crowd inside. A while later, while looking around, and noticing, that, Rick, has actually, left my side, and upon again, looking around, to really spot him, I find him, near, a window sill (large windows, and rather European), seated there, near, another group, almost, as if, checking out, the whole, situation. I feel fine (and even good), on seeing him, as such, and as I meander, around, looking lost (as in wondering, how I can get, a drink), I do spot, a rather, small bar, at one, of the corners, of the room (it appears though, the bar, takes, standing orders; as in, standing, in the room, and having, a waitress, ask one, for their order). I find myself, standing, firmly, in spot (legs apart, to the front), and as I start, to believe, the waitress, won't be, making, her way to me (at any time soon), I somewhat rather, quickly discern, wahts going on: join a group, hold sway perhaps (in conversation), and have, the waitress, join you (for a tete-a-tete, as in, an order). My head, turns rather, jerkingly (at first), and then, swiftly, as I look around, for Rick; (Rick has a group). Another quick jerk, sees me, staring, at the bar front, and head waiter, who appears, to, very much, have noticed, me, and is busy, wiping, a glass (rather large), with a polite (I believe really), smirk, on his face. On seeing him (and his smirk), I do turn, to notice, the rather, eagle eyed stare, of the waitress, simply, staring at me. I look, at the waitress, for a moment, and even, begin, to feel, another presence, on my back (that of, the Attendant, at the front), and it slowly, but suddenly sinks in (into me), that I must, find myself, a group (to join), or be, very much, forced, to leave, the premises. It is at this moment, that on, twitching really, do find, myself, gratefully thanking, the presence, of, pockets, on my pants, as my hands (one really), dips, into them (in attempt, to look, gentlemanly). Never before really, have I, felt, this way, and as my, eyes, sink in and look down too (rather downcast I would say), a tap, on my shoulder, notifies me, of a presence, I believe, would be, of help. I find myself, turning, rather slow (but very much, aware), and on looking, at the, blonde, blue eyed man (late twenties), that tapped on me, I notice, Rick, kind of, staring at me, while the, blonde blue eyed man, offers, his hand, in greeting (Honestly be said, I do find, myself, more comfortable, with, European men, than with, other, kind, of folk, including, Middle Eastern). I take his hand, not too, warmly, but rather, questioningly, and as I join, the group, wonder, at the female presence, in it. On later reconsidering, the whole situation (problematic), but rather, an ordeal for me, I do realize, that, I work well, on, tension, with European folk (By this, I mean, I kind of, speak my mind). In many ways, on much more, thinking (having later left, England), I do believe, that I am more, of a, Count, by nature, when in Europe (for those, not in the know, Counts, are people, who in general, seek, to diffuse, tension, or angst, in all its forms).
The whole evening, was rather, enjoyable (but not), as conversing, with, European women, took to be, a rather, difficult task ( I could not, simply, find myself, able, to place, their accents). The men, were rather, cordial, but it appeared very much, they feared, being put, on the spot, by me, and the women, in the group (In many ways, I believe, they saw me, as being, rather knowledgeable, and the female presence, as rather, intelligent). Rick, on the otherhand, appeared, to be, faring well, with his role, as, Sheikh, and appeared too, to be doing, rather alot, of talking. In my group, it was rather different, As I, being a Count, awaited, for the other members, to talk, and then (as I am accustomed too really), settle, any disputes, that would arise (favouring none, but rather, my own, disposition). My group members, on the otherhand, believed me, to be the originator, of any talk, that would arise, not knowing, that genetically really, I am rather, disposed, to talk about, incidents, hamburgers, and even, the latest movie watched. I did say something though, I rather wish, I did not, as on turning, to Josephine ( a rather pretty, English girl, in the group, and looking, rather too, French), I happened to say, "Too many suits, in London, I wonder why that is?" The other group members, looked at me, in surprise (they, mostly being, rather, fashionable, as with, a Fashionista), and Josephine says to me, "Well, its rather, the custom here". "Custom?!!", I found myself saying, "and why is that?" (I say all this, with a feeling/stares really, that I am being, urged on). "Thats whom we are", she says to me, as she slightly, stares down at me, with the others, looking on (I am the shortest person, in the group). "But why?" I find myself saying, "But why what?", she says back to me; "But why, suits, and so many?" I ask (feeling rather, predatory, and staring too, right, into her eyes), "Well, I guess, they like them." I do find myself, rather, slightly, taken back, as I supposed, I would, at least, get a, cultural explanation; (after all, the suits, are in fact, shiny). I look back, at the other members, and they seem, to be, actually, deep, in their own thoughts, and Mike (the man, who introduced me, into, the group), says something, short, and rather, succinct: "Its just a wave". 'A wave', I find myself, thinking, before, it hits me, at how, Londonish, that term, really is, as waves, are too London, what tides, are to, oceans I believe; (in general really, what I am getting at, is that, the rest of the world, appears, to have, trends;). "Whats a wave?", I do find myself, asking, Mike (rather questionably), as Josephine, looks on, before, saying, "A wave, is simply, more or less, a fashion statement". I find that interesting, and to say, the truth, feeling rather comfortable, in the group, ask, "And whats the statement, they are making?!!" "I do not know", she says back to me, "but I guess, its whom, they are." Silence again (for no real reason, I can discern), and upon, looking at, Mike, again, another member, in the group, says to us, "I guess, it means...", he says, rather throatily (while taking a pose), "that, they are, rather, crafty". A rather direct hit (or response really), but not, it appears, of the English conversational mode (they only, responding, to requests), and as I look at him, I do find myself, saying, "Crafty...., as with crooks?!" A turn back, to Josephine, tells me, that, she finds, that, a bit tard, offensive, and with no, reply, forthcoming, the camaraderie, in the group, appears, to break off, and the group, slowly, begins, to break away. I don't know, what to say, but three members, actually, leave, the premises. I did join, another group, but did not, fully, find my niche, as a Count, as everyone (in it), appeared, to want, to be one (or even rather, a Countess).
About two days, later, Rick does tell me, that, we will be, going out, again, and on the previous day, I did find, myself, able, to look around, the City, but not, as much, as I expected. Too many people, all over, and most, not of my taste (I am rather, sensitive, to my environments, and folk, with negative energy, or attitudes, do adversely, affect me). I did however, find myself, buying me, a book (literature rather, or atleast, in taste), and it is, by, Brillat-Savarin, and titled, "The Physiology of Taste" (A rather, interesting read, I must say, and Savarin, believed, to have been French, is actually said, to have been, Californian/and fed up, with America, and then having, moved, to France). On the day, of the party (or even really, a short period, to it), I did have, the time, to look through, a map, of London (rather astonishingly so), as it was, rather large, and having found it, underneath, my bed. Most outsiders (or even those, living within), London, do attempt, to place themselves, squarely (in it), as to, feel safe really (London, is rather large, and dark, in feel). The map opened, does show, several, sections (or boroughs really), of what, makes up, London. I look through all them, and upon, further study (internet wise too), do really, discover, that, these so called, boroughs, are actually, large neighbourhoods (as in, large neighbourhoods). I discover too, that, we are located, in, Westminster (and that, is actually, a good thing I suppose), but I still, do question, how, I fit, into, the whole place (believing myself, part European) [I am not, of, European descent (as with blood), but actually, of, European origins (as with history). As a Middle Easterner, one finds, that all, Middle Easterners, are actually, divided, into, People, the most famous, being, the Arabians (of Saudi Arabia). I, on the otherhand, actually belong, to a group, referred to, as, Arabe (Islamic-European). Jemima Khan, is actually, Arabe, but of the, white hue]. I do find that, Identity formation, in Europe atleast, has taken, three phases, in the recent, past centuries. In very much, recent times (as with Modern Europe), Identity formation, in the UK/London, has actually, very much, been based, on, what Borough, lived in. In many ways, most, strongly identify, with their, boroughs, and there is a, general, discriminative culture, against, those, who do not, belong, to a borough, of sort (some of this, discrimination, can be, rather harsh, as with, the prevention, of a person, even, entering, a building of sort/club for instance). For most Londoners, this is how, they create, Identity. You do find though, another way, of creating, Identity, in London, going back, to the ends, of the, Napoleanic era. It is an Identity, of the wealthy really (upper class), and associated, with what, they call, Houses, in English royalty (as with, the Tudors, and even, the Spencers). It is, in many ways, an Identity, associated, with, Englands economic problems (and even wars), and also, very much, about, manifesting, Order (as in, the wealthy, act, as a form, of, intelligentsia, in resolving, Englands, very much, political problems). Interestingly enough, this Identity, is very much, white and black, in colour (with black, acting, as advisors, and also, very much, forming, a servant class) [Those identifying, with, Boroughs, are rather, multi colour, in make-up, and come, from across, the world]. This Identity, of Royalty (and Houses), is believed, by many, to be, what, European history, has been, about, but is not, really so (it all, happening, in rather, recent more times). There is however, another, older identity (more UK, in nature), and based around, identifying, with, Englands Architecture. This Identity formation, is rather, old, and goes back, to an England, that was, white and brown, but today, only, existing, in London (with the City, and Westminster). An Identity really, not really taught about, today [as for most, Englands history, has to do, with, Order/Charles Dickens, and, Royalty/Houses] [Not with, Richard, Symbolism, or Monarchy] [I do believe, I represent, the Theban Cross (as with Richard really, and not, the flag of England)].
On the evening, the party, is to be held, once again, I do find myself, getting dressed, and ready, to leave. Once more, we are out again, into, the car, and speeding off really, to a, party destination, unknown still, to me. We do arrive though, at a location, in, Westminster itself, a mansion of sorts (really English), and do find, an array of cars, parked in the front, and into, the mansion itself. An intimidating scene (is what I think, at the back of my head), as we steer around (Rick really), looking, for a parking place. One found, not too much, later, we are out, of the car, and making, our way, to the party. Rick, seems rather, enthusiastic, and as we make, our way, to the, party itself, we do find, all sort, of, activity, taking place, at the outset (and entrance too), to the house. Several people really, in talk, about nothing much really (it appears), and drinking, all sorts, of drinks, in and about, the place. We are in, and looking around, just to be, met, with the sight, of, a large, presence (as in many people), milling around, talking loud, drinking, and even, some, prancing about. I wonder, what it is, we are doing here, as this does not, appear, to be, Rick's, kind of scene. Rick looks around, as if, appearing, to be, looking out, for someone. I stand in place, looking around, kind of shocked (if not, totally surprised), at the free running spirits, displayed, and rather, in contrast I believe, to the rest, of London. We begin to walk in, into, the room (to a few displays, of, welcoming outbursts, which, are met, with a rather, welcoming, quiet, from me at least). Rick, does find, whom, he is looking for, a rather, tall, black African, Muslim, and named, Elijah. Greetings abound, and Elijah, in a rather, low, monotonous tone, at least, motions me, to be seated, somewhere (lots of high rise windows, 3 at least, in the room, with rather, comfortable, looking, window sills), to which, I at least, take reprieve to. Rick, stands talking, with, Elijah, and I begin, to look around me, and the room, as I remain, rather, comfortably seated (Window Sill sitting, is a rather, old, European custom, often, of the, self-entertainment mold, and rather, still, enjoyable, in Europe at least). As I am seated there, I kind of find, myself, looking around, without, too much, of a passing interest. I see the people (rather English), and all, the laughs and guffaws, but still, feel, rather, an outsider, to it all (despite, my rather, good English). To understand all this, is to understand, the history, of Europes (or Londons at least), Society (social scene), as it has, changed, in the last, few centuries. In present Europe (and London), social Identity, is created, rather, through Physical looks. It is a London, of fashion, and even, very much too, hairstyles. This social scene, comes into place, with, the creation, of modern England (and Boroughs). Earlier times, in London (and Europe), see, a rather, different way, of, creating, social Identity, based on, Etiquette and Manners. This, is a Europe/London, that most, believe, to be, European history, as it, arrives really, after, the Napoleanic era, and is one, of, successive, Kingships, each, attempting, to create, a new Europe, based on, new manners and etiquette. The most famous, of these, is, Napolean III, and his being, crowned, Emperor of France. In England though (where these successive Kingships, are known, as Periods), it is the Edwardians, that become, eventually, historically reknowed (they, of fox hunting, fame) [for me at least, this Europe/London, reaches, its pith height, with the, Victorians]. In many ways, a very white (socially that is), Europe (with black guards), and very much, societal, in nature [as in laying, the origins, of Europes, class structure]. As I sit, rather musing, to myself, I cannot help (while looking around), to recognize, which European period, the party, represents; It comes of, as being, Englands, rather famed, English culture, that sprouts up, in post Napoleanic France, and whereby, men and women, compete, with each other, on whom, can put on, the most, makeup, and still, remain, looking, rather decent (or as they called it, Pompadour) [In many ways too, the world, of Annie Lennox, and especially, as seen, in, 'Walking on broken glass']. A young lady, passes by me, while smiling, demurely, which I take, obviously really, as a hint, of interest (but truthfully said, I do not know, what to do really, about it). In many ways, this is not, my London (that of, Etiquette/Manners, or, Physical looks). My London really, is that, of Art [and pre-Napoleanic & Napoleanic, in time]. A world, best represented, by, Shakespeare, and defined really, with, Ribaldry (as a communications protocol), and filled, with Poetry, Poets/Bards, and Philosophical works (historic, in nature) [throw in, a sword fight, or two]. I do expect, somewhat really, to feel, rather left out, as the scene, appears, to be, rather, different (culturally too), than what I expect [in many ways though, the history, of, rampant discrimination, in Europe/London, belongs, with the Europe, of, Physical looks, and not that, of, Etiquette/Manners] [That of, Physical looks, has discriminative habits, targeted, towards, non-Europeans, and rather too, extreme, in its nature; similar in all, to discrimination, in America] [That of Etiquette/Manners, is instead, rather, stereotypical (but still, accepting all), and mostly, targeted, towards, Africans (black); in many ways, a world, whereby, one, must fit, into, white manners (and etiquette), and as mentioned, most discriminative, towards, African blacks].
As the party progresses, and I still, on, my window seat (sill really), I am approached, by a voice, which says to me, "They are all crazy!". I turn, to look, into the face, of a, young lady, whom, I immediately, notice, not to be, European. She motions, to join me, on my, window seat, and as I, move, to accept her, offer, she sits by me, and when, having settled, closely says by me again, "They are all crazy!". I look around me, and do not feel, any sense, of reproach, and rather feel, rather safe (maybe, it all being, due, to my knowledge, of, Pompadour). I look across, the room, and see, Rick, standing, with another group, appearing, to share, some laughs; (laughs, to the unkowing reader, are rather, honest, comments, not to be taken, too seriously, or, offensively). The young lady, who introduces herself, as Debbie, begins, to talk again, of her experiences, in, London so far (more existences though). And as she, is talking, I get ready, to interrupt her, by asking her, whether, she is, American. She takes this, rather, taken aback, and even, looking, rather, slightly ashamed, and as she, statingly says, "yes I am", I notice her, accent, to be rather, different, from, conventional American, and from the looks of it, rather, Celtic (in nature) [think Gwyneth Paltrow here]. She continues on, by saying, that, she is studying, English literature, at a, British University (which surprisingly enough, turns out, to be, Oxford), and as she talks more, of her, experiences, in London, the more, she begins, to obviously look more, as an, Americanista [Legion] [From the looks of it too, despite, talks, of no money, she definitely, won't be, returning, to America, any time soon]. Debbies unhappiness, appears, very much, to do, with not, understanding, upper class, English societies, manners & etiquette, and while, they, are rather, philosophical (in speech), she appears, very much though, to be, grounded, in deep thought itself [observing things, rather than, perceiving them]. More talk between us (with her leading, the way), whereby, I do, advise her, to study, English philosophy (as with, philosophical works), rather than, Literature; my belief, is that, the Literature, will not, really help her, understand, her world, unless, she develops, a rather, discerning mind [one not taken, to denial itself]. From more talk, she appears, to be, rather, unhappy, with England (although enjoying her studies), and I do find it, hard, to broach, the subject, of group Identity, as with, whom, constitutes, her People [she believes herself, to be, nouveau English, but unknowingly really, is actually, Americanista (Legion)]. She does talk, of, employment issues (on graduating), and as she does so, I do find, myself, advicing her, to probably, seek out, employment, in Turkey (where hopefully, she will run, into, the many, Americanista [Legion], members, living there). Later on though, after some more talk, she does leave, and soon after, Rick, motions for me, to prepare, to leave too.
The very next night, another party; this time, a Dinner party. We are all, dressed up (me and Rick), and soon again, headed out, of the, apartment, into, Ricks, speeding car. Soon later, at the outskirts, of the City, we arrive, at a home [Manor in style], and approach it, rather, slowly (for Rick at least) [and I, rather apprehensively]. It appears, very much, this is why, Rick, is visiting, London. We are in, and at the front, are packed, two Range Rovers, and a, Lexus, parked out front. We get out, of the car, and as we, approach, the front door (I rather silently, and Rick, appearing, apprehensive), the door, itself, appears, to open, rather suddenly (as if, manned, by a ghost), and a figure (butler really), comes out, to welcome us in [An England, I have only seen, on TV]. We are ushered in really, and as soon, as we are in, are shown, into, a rather, large, living room space, with, 18th century, European decor. The house, is rather, interestingly, decorated, and towards, the entrance, of the living room space (to the right), is a Kitchen. There are people in it, preparing, some drinks of sorts, and Rick, walks in, gentlemanly (as if, having, recognized someone), with I, looking in, rather, apprehensively. We are both invited in, when Rick, is recognized, and as, greetings, are rather, slowly, exchanged (looks really, on me, and on my part too), I eventually, find myself, making me, a cup, of tea (not really knowingly, but after, an invite, to get a drink). While doing this, I do hear, a rather, gregarious voice, burst out, from the living room, which makes my head, jerk (rather slightly), to the rear, as I distinctly, hear myself, say out, within me, "K" (alluding really, to the fact, that the voice, does belong I presume, to, Keira Knightley). Tea at hand, and a rather, slow walk, into, the living room, does find me, distinctly, looking out, for, Keira Knightley. I do notice her (rather distinctly even), and amongst the group, I do see, a blonde haired, blue eyed man, who did happen, to dine with us, last time (rather buffy too), and recognizably, known as, Frank. Everybody, is rather, seated around, or even standing (in a group, consisting, of 7), and as I truly, join in (as the seventh member), I stand a-still, as if, waiting, to truly, join, the group. I sip my tea, and on, calmly, lowering, my cup, do find, an unknown, body, introduce himself, to Rick, with Rick, gesturing (as with a nod), and a shake of hand, as a response. The group, somewhat, turns to me, and as it does, I do, distinctly, notice, Keira Knightley, point at me, and say, "And you are, Georg,.....Georic?" A slight pause, "No" I find myself saying, "Georgic". "Georgic", Keira Knightley repeats after me, as one of the men, in the group (rather draconian too, and dark haired), turns, to look me, distinctively. Small talk flows, which I do not, join, into, as the dark haired man, takes control, of the, situation/scenario, to paint, a rather, interesting picture, of, the world, and world politics [one, mainly based, on, personal musings, and some, English Liberalism]. Later on, with laughs abounding really, we make ourselves, to, a nearby, dining table set, in another room (through the living room space). Seated, and dinner served, the conversation, continues, to flow. I, Rick, and Frank I notice, are rather, more or less, silent, with the exception, of the occasional, question, set at Rick, and the, occasional too, comment, by Frank. It is while, all this, is going along, some time, into, the dinner, when Frank, says out something aloud, that somewhat, set backs really (and even unsettles), those, at the table. "I am thinking, of moving, to America", is what, he says, to the silence, and stares, of just about, everyone, at the table. I am seated, directly opposite (rather really), from, Frank, and when, he says this, my eyes, which are, rather focused now, at Keira Knightley, seated, at the end, of the table, begin, to make, a rather, slow, tormentous journey, towards, Frank, noticing nothing much (on the way), and ending, when Frank, becomes, rather slightly, noticeable. "Why?!!", makes my eyes again, turn swiftly (and even rapidly), towards, Keira Knightley, as I peak, my ears, to listen, to Frank. "I just don't, really....like it here, anymore", is what, he says, before, being met, with, a pause. "Whats not, to like?!!", another female member, at the table, questions out, at Frank really. Frank looks back, at his food (all seen really, from the corner, of, my eyes, still facing, forwards), before, looking back up, and even, slightly, at Rick, and he says, "I just think, its more fun, on, the other side, of the atlantic; besides, there is just, more stuff, to do there". Another silence abounds, before, the Female member (Anna they call her), decides, to leave, for the Kitchen, for a while. "What, don't you like, really?" asks, the dark haired man (towards Frank), before, my somewhat turning, towards, Frank, to look at him. For the first time really, I feel, no tension, at the table (at least, on my very skin), and with no, answer, forthcoming from Frank, the dark haired man, says again, "we could do something for you, that you might like; you could choose, to live, in America, for a while, or even, part time, at least". Frank does not seem, responsive, to all this, and with a slight, sigh, says again, "I'll think, more, about it, and say something, later on". Anna: [having returned], "I don't know Frank, whats not, to like, about England; I find it, joyful here, to say the least". Another silence, which seems, prolonged, and I questioningly (directly even), look at, Rick, and find myself, saying, "must be the rain". Another slight pause, from us all, and Frank says, "It just might be, the rain". I do take, the moment, to philosophize it all, having been, grasped, by a seizure, of creative impulses, and with a point, of my fork, state out loud, "maybe, a change, in, emotional well being, would do". Frank, as if, not expecting, to hear much, somewhat, looks at me, as Keira Knightley, says to me, "How so?" With a slight pause, and a small, lean back, I find myself, somewhat stare, at, Annas, blue eyes, and find myself, saying again, "Its all really, in discovering, ways, to express yourself, that make you, happy, and in many ways, forms, your existence". "Well", begins Keira Knightley, "that does not, tell us too much, does it?". "Maybe he means, material existence", says the dark haired man. I sense out Frank, as he sets back, somewhat, at his dinner, and I find myself, saying (after a quick glance, at Rick), "Not really, I am really, referring, to how, one, sees themselves, as an, Emotional being"; That is met, with a silence. "In many ways really" I begin again, "Being, an Emotional being, has to do, with, adapting, to our worlds, sufficiently well (and even, enjoyably)", I muster out, as a finality of sorts. "What exactly, does that mean?" asks Anna (with a small dose, of curiosity). "There are four ways, at least, one can view, themselves, as an, Emotional being: blood based", I begin, with a finger count accompanying; "water based, hormones based, and even too, neuromelanin based". Another silence, and I proceed on "In many ways really, how one, adapts, to their, environments, and finds them, enjoyable, has to do, with what, we use, to define, our, Emotional beings: blood, water, hormones, or as I said, even, neuromelanin". For instance, take you guys" I begin again, "you do, the water thing; you seek, to feel well, by, drinking, lots, of water, and even, eating too, lots, of fruit". Without a pause really, I continue: "your environments, even reflect this, as you appear, to seek out, rather, cool environments, for pleasure". The dining table (and accompanying room), is rather, cool. They all take, a moment or so, to swallow, some food, before, I continue: "the people out there", pointing towards, the atlantic (and at America), "do the hormones thing". "Their emotional being, and enjoyment, is driven, very much, by, adrenaline and in many ways, defines them, as people". I explain really, that, their life (American), is driven, by, hamburgers, sports, sex, and even, arguments, which are all, enjoyment forms, driven, by, adrenaline. Frank takes a moment, to fully, pause, and somewhat, look at me, as I somewhat, look, into his eyes. "Most out there though, do the blood thing still, and in many ways, are driven, to seek out, a comfortable, material existence". There is another pause, and a somewhat, downcast look, from, Keira Knightley, before I state again, after, another full pause "I personally, do, the neuromelanin thing;" "How so?" asks Anna (with some enthusiasm); "Its complicated I say", not wishing, to divulge, any aspects, of my personal life, in many ways, "but in many ways", I continue, "it is what, makes, an Arabian, capable, of sitting out, in, the desert, for rather too long". With a side glance, at Frank really (even fully), I say, "Maybe Frank, thinks, the adrenaline stuff, is fun, but in many ways, it will totally, change him". Frank somewhat pauses, as he somewhat, shakes, his head, before, I continue, by saying "in many ways though, being, a water based being, means, living, a life, heavily, based on, the 5 senses". "Stimulating them, if you must", I finally state out.
Conversation, does proceed, with Frank again, enquiring, about, how to really go about, stimulating, ones five senses. I do mention, that, there is a difference, between, exciting them, and, stimulating them. Exciting them, I say, is rather, product based, while, stimulating them, is mostly, action based. As an example, I do mentioned, a good smelling, well cooked, steak. I don't really say more, but someone (Anna that is), does say, that, smells, are rather, prominent, in London. I agree to that (almost immediately), but do also, mention, that they are, of, the exciting type. Englands upper class, are heavily, driven, by taste (as in buds), but in many ways, exciting them (as their food, is rather American). "Some French cuisine, is real, stimulation", I add, as the dark haired man, looks at me, as if, I have, every intent, of destroying, Americas, Ranching industry. My Europe though, has always been, very much, sound based, as with, a particular, type of music, certain voice sounds, and even, certain, activity (as with sword fights). I do not, really mention, all this, but hint at it, rather, strongly.
Two days later, we leave for Harare.
