pumpkinstrokemarrow

For our late afternoon snack we moved on to the more traditional white cabbage and white pork soup. With pearl barley and mushrooms on this occasion. No problem about being watery, this being a thin rather than a thick soup. Odd how I am quite happy with watery soup but not at all happy with watery stew. Stews have to be reduced to the point that they would burn if not stirred regularly. Thick dropping consistency as they say in cake recipe books.

All this to make up for the fact that on Monday I had been touched by a beggar for a few quid. When I used to commute regularly this was something that used to happen maybe every couple of years or so.

On the last occasion I was approached leaving Vauxhall station in the morning by a dishevelled and distraught young lady, maybe early twenties and certainly looking a bit battered if once good looking, with some rigmarole about how she had been at some club and had been picked up by some chap, from where things went from bad to worse. She was now stranded in London without the funds to make it to the parental nest in Redhill or some such place. She got £20 out of me although she nearly queered her pitch by pushing for £40, which struck me as greedy. My thinking was that it was quite possible that she was a trickster but it was also true that I would not like to deny someone in need, given that I could well afford the £20.

The next morning I noticed the same young lady making the same pitch to the next sucker. A bit annoyed, but I also thought that her act was almost worth the £20 and I did not disturb her. On reflection I suppose I should have done. But it is very easy to walk on, past all kinds of grief, when you are in get to work mode first thing in the morning.

So this Monday it was a distraught gent., maybe 30-35 and suited but not tied. He had some rigmarole about how he worked for some very important outfit in the city, had been to a funeral, had had his laptop pinched and was now without a bean in the world to make his way home to Bath. Asked lots of people but I was the first person to give me a hearing. And I was not a foreigner like everybody else on London Bridge. Fare £55 or so. He got £10 and took my email down into his mobile phone so that he could sort out repayment in the morning. Not done so yet.

On reflection, his story even less probable than that of the young lady. I suppose my thought was that it was possible that it was true.

On the assumption that it was not, who are these people? Are they ingenious beggars? Are they drama students polishing their brass? Are they students of psychiatry learning about human beings? Are they working up some stunt for telly?

I then start to wonder what I would do. When, many years ago, I had my wallet pinched at Liverpool Street station, the form was that the police allowed me to phone my employer at Norwich who were able to arrange for me to pick up a replacement ticket at the ticket office. I imagine I got BH to meet the train, rather than do the three or four mile walk.

If it happened now, assuming I had or could find a telephone, I would phone home. If I was in luck, BH would be at home and would come and fetch me. Or arrange for my listening bank to give me some money. Or something.

If that failed but I still had my mobile, I would probably still be OK. There would be somebody I could touch for the necessary to get home.

No mobile and no Filofax and things would start to get more tricky as I would now not have any phone numbers - the only one I can remember these days being my own. Assuming it was daytime and that I was sober and decent, I guess the next step would be to make my way to a sproggly place of employment and see what I could do there. Hopefully there would be a library nearby where I could look up where they were. Or, if I was lucky, with internet facilties which I was allowed to use without any form of identification.

Maybe the key words here are sober and decent. I can see that one might start to panic if one was in a state. Even start to accost passers by... Or would I start to walk? Would I collapse on the way if I attempted the 20 mile walk home with neither liquid nor solid refreshment?