Friday was a good day. After a couple of days in Edinburgh seeing people including my son, I got the train down to London in sunshine. There were skeins of Pinkfeet flying over as we passed Dunbar, and the autumn colours in this part of Scotland are ahead of the trees back home.
In London, that evening, I gave a talk about why we should ban driven grouse shooting to a crowded lecture theatre in Birkbeck College. I’m surprised that people have nothing better to do in London on a Friday evening than listen to me on what is a fairly serious subject so I was really pleased to get this email afterwards, ‘I had the pleasure of being in the audience this evening to witness your absolute master class in how to convey a clear and persuasive message with humanity, humour and clarity.‘.
I headed off afterwards and it was such a mild evening that I sat outside an Italian restaurant in Covent Garden and had a glass of wine and a pizza. It was very mild, too mild for Pinkfooted Geese one might have thought, and it’s not often one can eat outside in the evening in London in mid-October.
A woman popped out of the restaurant to have a fag – she asked if I minded and I said ‘no, provided you blow the smoke away from me’ and we got chatting – she was quite chatty and I can be too. She was waiting for a comedy evening to start in the basement and she asked me what I was doing in London so we got onto the subject of grouse shooting. She said that she had signed my e-petition last time around so I pointed her in the direction of the new petition. I wonder whether she has signed, or will remember to sign.
When she finished her cigarette I watched the four young men who had been drinking beer at another table and realised they were the comedians. Crikey – they looked serious! And nervous. I know the feeling – although I am pretty accustomed to speaking in public I get a bit nervous and introspective before I give a talk. I had that evening.
Then a scruffy-looking bloke came and chatted to the waiter – I was still waiting for my pizza. The guy, who I will call Jason, tried to sell me a Big Issue but I gave him my small change (less than the price of the magazine) and on the spur of the moment offered him a pizza. Jason, said he wasn’t hungry, and told me he didn’t drink or do drugs, but he said he’d love a cup of coffee so he joined me at my table and we chatted. Jason said he was in his mid-forties and to my mind he didn’t look good for those years.
I heard the story of his life and he told me he’d like to write an autobiography – which did sound quite interesting – but I can’t really see that happening.
I enjoyed my pizza, ordered another glass of wine and then cheesecake for both of us. When we parted a while later I wished him luck and gave Jason a fiver. And, of course, I walked off wondering how my £5 would be spent – would it be on a place to sleep, on food or on something that would keep Jason on the streets? The waiters at the restaurant clearly knew Jason but I didn’t ask them for a reference!
I’ve had a good life, I’m having a good life, and I intend to continue to have a good life. Maybe if things had been different Jason might have been sitting outside relaxing and I might have been the guy selling Big Issues. Who knows? And if I was conned out of a few quid when I was hoping to be friendly and human to someone worse off than myself then…well, it won’t have done me any great harm.
I’ll remember Jason when I walk that part of London again. I wonder whether we’ll meet again. Will I remember his name? I doubt he’ll remember me as I think he has more important things on his mind.
[registration_form]
Yes, you can’t do better than that: talking; sipping and giving while sharing the fresh aroma of tobacco on a balmy evening in one of London’s many villages. (The ban on smoking in public has gone far too far – and I’ve never ever smoked.)
The last time I gave out any money was in Suez, Egypt back in 1998. I loved going to Suez as I used get a mini bus down the Gulf and find birding spots with a water hole by an army camp one of my favorite. I used sit there all day under a tamaric bush with a lump of card board over my head to keep off the sun watching any thing from Levant’s Sparrowhawk to Alpine Swift come down for water. I even had Short toed Eagle and Steppe Eagle sitting inches from my head as they used the bush to land in! I would hitch back to Suez and back to the hotel at night.
Outside was a food cart run by ‘Eddie Murphy’ Well he looked like him and every one called him that! He spoke good English and it was a good way to learn about his way of life here in Suez. I would leave the World Bank office on Thursday night and get the bus to Suez. Drop my bag at the hotel [£2 a night!] and walk down to the front and watch the fishermen and the House Crows stealing fish.
This went on for several months on and off with other weekend trips to Abu Simbel, Sharm el Shiek, Luxor and Aswan as my main birding spots. Suez came to an end when Eddie phoned me at 2 AM asking for money. He wanted to buy heroin! Now if you know what the jails are like in Egypt then it was time to get scared. I had been arrested once before near Suez for birding near a factory and smiled at the officer after he said I could go remarking that I had only lost a few hours birding with a reply that he felt he could hold me for a year!!
I gave Eddie the money but never returned to Suez again.
Mark,brilliant,admire many many things about you but your treatment of Jason pushed that up quite a bit.