Wednesday January 18th

January 18

Yesterday I arrived to a frosty morning in London and a driver who swished me off to Hampstead on  toad’s wild ride. The roads near the heath are extremely narrow requiring opposing traffic to stop and yield; no two way traffic on two way streets.  The landlord was gracious and the flat meets all my needs.  Of course, it will take getting used to. Basic electricity needs to be turned on and off at each outlet and at fuse box. Hot water tank must be turned on by hand for 30 minutes before drawing a bath.  The size of hotel room, the flat has a sitting room with two twins, a wardrobe and a huge window with lots of light.  Kitchen is closet size with mini fridge, micro, four nobs and another huge window with lots of light and a balcony leading to the private garden.  I got settled but discovered my converter did not work, so I had a total of 20 minutes left on laptop and only about an hour of Ipod music. 

Walked around Hampstead getting my bearings, buying groceries and trying to stay awake, but my body definitely would not be convinced that it was daytime.  When my brain completely fritzed out and I felt in danger of getting lost, I returned to flat, made coffee to stay awake but crashed anyway at 3pm  London time until 10pm (2am PST). 

Luckily, I have cable TV and caught part one of an excellent 5 part documentary on Mohammud Ali during the night. It was so interesting to see those clips, including the Liston fight in 1964 and interviews between David Frost and young Cassius Clay. I remember how I processed those events and that proud man from my teenage consciousness. I vividly recall how he was perceived by my father, uncles and the men in my social world of that time. As I watched Ali in the clips I was amazed again at his athletic quickness and mental agility—he was rapping before anyone called it that. To David Frost: “The nation was shocked when Nixon resigned, just wait til I kick Norton’s behind.”  Of course, I must tune in tonight to watch his anti-war phase. I recall putting a war protest poster in my college dorm room with Ali against the backdrop of an American flag and his iconic slogan combining civil rights with war protest: “No Viet Cong ever called me ‘n****r.”

Knowing what Parkinson’s has done to his body, I felt sad as I watched that superb athlete in the clips, but then I reflected on his courage.  His willingness to make public appearances in his declining health takes a kind of courage that we don’t often see.  Contrast to politicians like Reagan and Thatcher who withdrew from public life as their health diminished—feeding an illusion of greatness that must spring from some kind of shame in frailty and vulnerability.  Not Ali.  What courage to be ravished by Parkinson’s and still say to the world, “Take me as I am.”

After making morning coffee, doing morning reflections and ablutions, I headed to the tube and checked in the university office.  I had forgotten that EU keyboards are different with shift key and symbols in different places, so typing is slow going.

Looking forward to a Friends meeting tonight at 19:00 a short walk from the flat.

Reflections.  All deliberate action.  Because everything is so different, my concentration is absorbed by the menial tasks of living.  Heating water, locating provisions, using an unfamiliar currency—with strange coins—takes away all the automatic action of living.  As a result, everything takes longer, but my senses are much more acute and my mind can’t wander too far from the here and now. 

Oddities.  The left hand traffic remains a distraction and crossing streets is a hazard.  There are no street signs and buildings have names (Dilke House; Filmore residence, etc.) not street numbers making navigation on foot confusing.  The markets have food, but no cleaning solutions, no basic paper goods, nothing pharmaceutical like lotions.  Every shop is specialized requiring many stops to do what we would accomplish at one grocery store. It is bitter cold and raining yet darling, young women are dashing about tiny mini-skirts with lots of leg showing in tights above their boots, and no coats—many with cigarettes in hand.  

When I get a charge on the Ipad2, I will shoot photos of the surrounds.