Thursday, January 30, 2014

Walking Stick

Today I gathered my information, certificate of birth, citizenship papers, w-something or others, receipts of various kinds, telephone number, spouse's date of birth, year and place of marriage, driving license, home address and other ancillaries which experience suggests are sometimes required by a person who becomes tongue tied and dangerously  neurotic when in the presence of authority. These things in place, I thoroughly emptied the bladder and took the big road to Town, and half way there I realized that I had forgotten, my winter coat, my gloves, a routing number, my mother's maiden name, my father's full name, my spouse's social security number. So I had to turn around.

 I have in the course of my life been subject to a number of interactions with authority. The most memorable, an agent of state in the Zagreb Railway station who took an unnatural joy from the strip search. Then there was the dole office in the city of Cardiff,  it's bonhomie and free wheel turned barbaric under Margaret Thatcher.  The Salvation Army flop house, which required the lord's prayer before I got my cut of bread and soup. And here I have to admit I succumbed.  Then there was a remarkably pompous asshole who arrested me, and in the traffic on the way to Police Station, he spent his time telling me how all he really wanted to do was join the contingent that protects diplomats.  An odd apology, I still think.  Quite worrying in fact.  All of which means I was well girded by dark expectations for my trip into Town, none of which transpired.  Yes Indeed, hand me a walking stick, I am now a retired person.

No comments: