North of Watford?

I am writing this piece after Ian Collin's comments on his very excellent Late Show on talkSPORT. The comment, or question raised was, where does the dislike, loathing, bitterness and even in some cases hatred of anything associated with London come from?

I've pondered this over the last few days, and recalled all my encounters up and down the country over the last twenty five plus years, and any relevant comments made over that time, to come up with a reason why. The conclusions I have drawn are as follows.

With any search for the reason's why, we always try to focus on just one reason why. I think there are several reason's. The first of which is in my opinion is the telly.
Over the years London has been portrayed through such television programmes sitcoms and soaps as, Eastenders, Minder, Only fools and Horses, The Sweeney, The Bill. All of which seem to stereotype all Londoners as dodgy scheming wide boys, racist xenophobic Police or miserable moaning stuck in a time warp Cockneys that work either on a fruit and veg stall, pull pints in a boozer or have a back street garage that fix's dodgy motors!
All of the above may be there in very small doses, but the Londoners I have come across are as diverse and enigmatic as any major town or city in Europe. On the whole it is a vibrant city, and will cater for every desire. But it's no different from any city in the UK. All the good and bad that are at each end of the panoramic scale, that can be found in London, can be found in every city in the UK.

Another is the BBC. Those who can remember Nationwide, will easily recognise the format. Local news and then switch to the main news. The first few news articles were always current affairs, usually to do with the Government, which is generally of national importance. But later on a local issue would then be broadcast to the nation. Now over the years it didn't matter whether I was at home, or in any other pub, truckstop or anywhere in the UK where there was a small gathering at a telly when the news was on. I can recall numerous outbursts of sentiment along the lines of, if that were in London it would be main news!
As Ian pointed out, London is our capital and our financial nerve centre. But the way the BBC, and other media outlets have portrayed it in the news, innocently or not, many people north of Watford have led me to believe, that they think that they are inferior to London where news articles are concerned.

Again, the BBC, Match of the day, very rarely did you see a game not concerning a London club. Ok it was kind of hard not to because London has always had over the years, a number of teams in the top flight of  football. There were an equal number of clubs from the midlands for a lengthy period, and it was rare not to see  one or two featured. But the perception viewed by many, was that BBC favoured London clubs.

Another is the amount of migrant workers that work in London. I'm not on about the one's from overseas, I'm on about construction workers mostly, but there are many other's that in their careers have to work and stay in London for various lengths of time and frequencies. Now, working away from home isn't the same as going on holiday. But hotel and B&B prices in London reflect the fact it is a global tourist hotspot. They can be a bit pricey compared with other parts of the UK. On the whole anybody who is anybody, will usually will find shops, pubs and eateries within their price range where they live. But if you are only staying for a few days and are putting in twelve hour shifts, you don't have the energy or will to search around. And tend to take what's convenient no matter the cost.
The above gives out the perception that London is expensive, when it's generally no worse than anywhere else, with the exception of house prices and rent. But, wages in London do compensate for this. And that slightly higher hourly rate, or salary, is what attracts so many to live there, along with the greater prospect of finding some/any work if times were to get tough. Those higher wage packets also lend to the mis-conception that all Londoners are loaded. And that can and does inspire financial jealousy!

Traveling to and around London can also be considered at best, challenging. As a truck driver, bending an articulated behemoth around streets that were designed for horses and carts ain't easy, but hey, that's what I get paid for! Every part of the UK has different unwritten rules of road etiquette. For example, in Devon and Cornwall it's all about taking your time and don't be in too much of a hurry. And you have to adapt your driving to suit the natives. London in my opinion, tends to be 'get on with it'. Other drivers will quite often ignore minor indiscretions, so long as you hurry up doing so. They will forgive the, quick change of plan I'm now going in that lane and going to turn left instead of right, because they did it less than an hour ago to someone else, just don't muck around doing it. Hesitant driving is seriously not liked. To the un-initiated this can make it seem like they've turned onto a film shoot of Whacky Races, but as most cities in Europe drive in a similar chaotic style, it puts the fear of dread into many.
With it being the capital, like most major cities, has a lot of traffic travelling to it, and one can expect to be in a jam or two quite frequently. Most people, except other city dwellers can and do a thirty-ish mile commute to work in just over half an hour. That just isn't going to happen when the average speed at peak hours is just five miles per hour. Some, on their first trip make allowances for this, but because they are simply ignorant, have no comprehension of the scale and sheer volumes that navigate in and around there and the allowances usually fall way short, so missed appointments and rendezvous are common amongst the un-intiated.  Anyone who has driven to and around London can quite easily be forgiven for being put off going again.

Public transport in London, is on the whole quite good. It works, to a degree. Considering the amount of people that use it and it's complexity by it's very nature. And it's that complexity that will make any first timer feel like they're being sent into a maze made out of rose walls and with a blindfold on! People that are used to the idyllic country stations, where friendly staff who they can put a name to the smiling face, because they went to school with them, or they were a neighbour that was invited to their nieces wedding. These ever so gracious servants that were there to help out with the confusing choice of just two platforms, aren't there to greet you when you land in London. The ones whose job it is to assist on your arrival can quite often be seen surrounded by some Oriental visitor's, desperately waving their arms in a semaphore style giving signals to the direction in which the party of hear no,see no, speak no's need to go. If that was your daily routine for at least forty weeks you could be forgiven for seeming a tad surly.
London is a noisy place for the public transport using traveller. It moves, when it can, at what can seem like a frantic pace, and like driving, Londoner's just want you to 'get on with it'. And hesitation is seriously not liked.

All of the above, isn't how I see London, but how others see it given the conversations I have had with many, from all over the UK, over the years. This is to highlight the perception that visitors may get when they first and infrequently visit our Capital. All these visitors, upon their return to their local pub's, coffee morning's and canteen's will regale their negative experiences to their family, friends and colleagues, when asked, how was your stay/trip to London? They will omit albeit unintentionally, any positives.
All these points, seperately, do not add up to much, but put them all together and tell the stories over and over, exaggerate point or two and you can easily how the ill-informed are the ill-informed.

For me, I've had some very enjoyable times in London. I've got some really good memories from working and visiting.
I'm not a fan of athletics, but I fully understand that the Olympics is a massive global event. It going to be watched by billions and attract millions. London is an ideal host. It has the infrastructure, the accommodation, the tourist attractions and most of all the experience, to cope with the huge amount of visitors such a world wide phenomenon can expect.


The only place to hold the Olympics in the UK, is in my opinion, what is a great city, London!

And The Wall Comes Tumbling Down.

This was the part of our trip, UK to Middle East States, that we went our separate ways and did the rest alone.

It was late April, early nineteen nineties, but the actual date escapes me and it's of little significance apart from the expected weather at that time of year. Some of the mountains were still moderately snow bound and when the sun burst through the days were somewhat pleasant. By now we had long cleared the Arab States, Turkey and had survived war torn Serbia. Others chose to backload from Turkey. But that had proven to be time consuming let alone the proverbial invite for a touch the toes job on return to Dover. And after doing the maths, i.e. running empty as opposed to fully laden, and getting close to an average nine miles to the gallon as opposed to four, and also relieving yourself from arduous debates, in languages and dialects many grade 'A' interpreters would struggle to comprehend, whilst trying to explain away the dodgy Turkish paperwork that says your carrying textiles amid a pungent smell of coffee. It was much better to blow the extra £100 profit, that is if you got paid the full amount if any at all, and run empty back to Germany and backload to the UK from the reputable Davies Turner(DT's) or Frans Maas(Frams).
One quick telex from 'Bullshit Alley'(Oktay Garaji and Cafe, in Istanbul) and an e.t.a. to the German border would secure a backload to 'Blighty'. It was affectionately known as 'Bullshit Alley' amongst the real Middle East Driver's, because of bullshitting the Cockney wide boys who frequented there and who only went that far. And they only do it because they had lost their GB licences and were running as bent as a truck load of mis-shaped boomerangs.

So here I was, just inside the German border, and refueling from the eight hundred litre belly tank, situated in the chassis of my trailer. I had made use of the local phone shop, a familiar sight those days. 'Where would we be without mobiles?' wouldn't echo around the stunning scenery that surrounded me for years to come. Happy with the knowledge a two drop backload to the UK, with a second collection at Rotterdam, awaited collection a mere twenty kilometres away. I bid farewell to my two convoy buddies, with whom we'd been a part of each others lives for the last month almost, and who shall remain nameless in this tale to protect the innocent and the guilty. And it wouldn't matter if I named them as they would have no further part to play in my life until we all returned to the UK, rested, refuelled and got ready to do it all over again.

I had loaded up. The first bit of the two part load, it was of no significance apart from it being just five tonne in weight. This meant I was light and it made for rapid ascents through the mountains and long hilly parts. I was now heading out of the picturesque town just as the skies opened up to the kind of April shower that must have inspired the tune in Bambi! I gone but a few miles when the rain along with one to many last glasses of tchai, got the better of my bladder. I pulled into rutted layby, the rain dancing in the potholes. I relieved myself letting out a 'Awww' as the pressure was relieved on my lower abdomen. I then noticed the pine tree I was under was not a very good shelter against the now slowing downpour. I hurried back into the cab and grabbed the nearest towel and dry t-shirt. The windscreen wipers where starting to make that annoying kissing sound they do as the windscreen starts to dry as the rainspots decrease. I peered through them, winced at the annoying sound and had to almost rub my eyes as into focus appeared two dishevelled rain soaked figures one of which was holding up a sodden piece of cardboard, with streaks of black ink, that where not so long ago, where the dreams of an optimistic destination were written.
A quick blast of the air horns PHEEWAA, sparked them into life, and no sooner had I waved a beckoning hand to them they had found a reserve pocket of strength and ran, skipping over the puddles, to the cab. In their fervor they had noticed the GB stickers and failed to realise it was right hand drive.
"Ich bin rechts fahren" I bellowed, "Kommen, linken erhalte im der truck!" In my best pigeon German. They hurried around and one dark green shadow threw a load of things and moved onto the engine cover in the middle of the two single seats.
"Here, up here" I cleared a space on the top shelf were the top bunk of my Scania 143 had been. I had lowered it to give more storage. The bottom bunk was still accessible, and could be used in emergencies. Though I used it for storage mostly. The hooded figure the stashed a collection of black bags, still dripping with the remnants of the rain, and the squeezed up to let the bag thrower enter the cab and sit precariously wedged down. The door slammed, and an exhausted and drawn out but grateful,
"sankyuu" reverbed around the cab for the longest relived moment I have ever witnessed.
"Where to, spracken English?" I quizzed.
At that moment the two indistinguishable partially drowned rats removed there hoods and removed their dripping army style parkers. I thought I was picking up two feral youths, displaced and possibly orphaned from the wars in the Balkan States. Instead I was staring at two very attractive teenage girls, both had identical deep brown eyes and had very very soft olive skin. Ones face was ever so slightly rounder than the other and the other had a sightly slender nose.
They were both dressed in bottle green army fatigues and had dark brown hair. The girl with the rounder face of the two's hair was quite curly and seemed natural whereas the others was almost perfectly straight. Their faces were now moving from the joyous grateful beams of happiness and heading towards nervousness as they gathered and taking their immediate surroundings.
"Eeenglissh?" Enquired the straight haired girl.
"Yes, you speak?" I asked pointing a questioning finger at her.
"Yes, I speak good, I learn in school. I not use much, you speak slow please!" She demanded with begging eyes that would have done Oliver Twist out of a job.
"Ok... Where ....Are  You... Going...? I slowly and deliberately questioned whilst circulating my map book of western Europe with my finger in hope she could at least point.
"Here. Rotterdam!" She stabbed a well manicured finger at the page. I looked, where she was pointing to. Rotterdam. I looked back up at the poor child and smiled.
" Yes, I will go past there." I pointed at me then her and her companion and at the page in sequence.
"YES!" The other girl in a unbridled outburst through gritted but ecstatic teeth made whilst clenching two fists to her chest in a display of obvious joy. She then let out a volley in a German dialect I could not follow to her companion.
"Are you sisters?" I enquired as we rumbled along the road.
"Yes, I am Anna and this is Mitzi(names changed), I nineteen and Mitzi is eighteen." Said the straight haired girl. She spoke assertively yet almost singing like a blackbird.
Your English is good, Ich spracken bischen Deutsch, but your English ist sehr gut! Why Rotterdam?"
"I am going to be a model, I have a job and apartment waiting." Answered Mitzi, this time. her voice was more like a purring cat, just about to get her milk!
"Where are you from?" I asked.
"Chemnitz." answered Anna. We are all German again. She beamed.
"How have you ended up here."As we were were just west of Wurzburg, which is about 120km East of Frankfurt.
"It is where the other driver took us as far as he could, he was driving to Stuttgart, he said it would be best to be a hitch hiker from there."
"Was he a trucker?"
"Yes, a West German, from Stuttgart." She paused, realising what she had just said. "He was nice, a big round friendly old man." she added. "He told us we are look the same as his granddaughters."
Mitzi, who was closest to me was looking a bit uncomfortable as she was wedged with her sister onto the single passenger seat. "Here, sit on the bed, It's ok, you'll be more comfortable." I gestured by patting the bed just behind us.
"Ok." She replied with another smile. As she eased herself up she unzipped her army jacket and slipped it from her shoulders and placed on the engine hump in the middle of the cab. She had a black buttoned shirt underneath buttoned only half way up from a slender waist.. The last button that was done, strained as a pair of heavy breasts pressed against it as she bent forward and then threw herself unladylike head first onto the top bunk, showing at the same time that those green army trousers contained one peachy bottom. She swivelled herself round and crossed her legs, and adopted a comfy lotus style position.
Yep, she's got it I thought as I deliberately peered deep into the wing mirrors of the Truck in an attempt to pretend I didn't see the eyeful Mitzi had unwittingly just given me!
Anna then removed her jacket, again a black shirt underneath, but done up to two buttons below an exquisite, slender neck.
"I am going with Mitzi to make sure she is ok. Papa said this is only way she go to Rotterdam." Anna said as she settled more comfortably into her seat as we trundled along.
"Your boss, he won't be angry with you giving girls a hitch hike? enquired Anna.
"No..... He won't" I chuckled as I then explained it was my Truck and the kind of work I did.

The kilometres or should I say miles, were eaten up by endless questions to and fro about each others lives, and dreams. By the time we had got to within one hundred kilometres of the Dutch border, I had found out that as soon as the Berlin Wall had come down, their father had encouraged them to seek out their fortune 'In the West'. He and their two elder brothers had worked and saved hard to give the chance. He was somewhat shocked but pleasantly surprised that Mitzi had been offered a modelling job based only on her photo's. And it was a bonus that a flat came with it! Anna was a qualified music teacher, and could play and teach a wide range of instruments. She had an interview in a few days time at a college. What got to me, was was their enthusiasm. There eyes were literally sparkling, and their smiles were wider than two four year olds on Christmas morning gathered round the tree!
It really brightened the journey up. Here were two bright, extremely attractive and intelligent young women, who's lives's had been dramatically changed by that wall coming down. The politician's and celeb's may have embraced it for a quick photo-call. But to these girls their lives were given a whole new adventure because of it.

"We have a small problem" Two startled faces immediately spun around and looked frowning deep into my face. " My driving hours are up. Middle East driving didn't require observation of the EU drivers hours regulations. But now I was back in the West, as it were, I had to stick religiously to the rules as the truck I drove was like a sore thumb to the German Police, who like rules to be adhered to, and because I was to clear customs in Dover. That meant via Dunkerque, and bribe taking Gendarmes. So whilst I was in the EU, I kept it legal.
"Excuse, please?" Queried Anna.
"My driving Hours are up. I have to park the truck for eleven hours."
"What, now?" Asked Mitzi
"In one hour, just across the border at Venlo."
"So, what do we do?"
"You have three choices, you can hitch on through the night, you can stay at a hotel, and I take you on in the morning, or you can sleep in the truck. And we get a real early start and I drive you to your door."
There was a moments silence as both Anna and Mitzi thought about what I had just said. Anna turned to Mitzi, both stared into each others eyes long and deep. Anna broke the silence by murmuring and for the first time speaking in German. Mitzi murmured back. Then silence, then Anna then Mitzi and then both together. Although I could speak bits of German, they were murmuring a little too fast. And although I caught a handful of words I could understand they were having an argument.
Anna broke first. "We haven't money for hotel, we are tired. It take all night to hitcher hike. We could get rapist. May we stay in truck."
The bottom bunk as was the top were almost the size of a double bed after I had the cab altered, so I offered the bottom to them.
"But we need wash" said Mitzi.
"Oh so that's what you were arguing about!" I was guessing
"Yes." Said Mitzi "My hair is no good for audition."
"Let me introduce you to Truckers Heaven." I beamed. With this they both looked at each other, the smiles returned, and they both smiled back at me. Those smiles would make the devil help an old lady across the road!

Just on the outskirts of Venlo, just inside the Dutch border, was a truck stop. Not your big flashy American 500 trucks in the lot style. Or the British version, a works canteen and a public lav banged together. No this was Dutch hospitality at it's best. Just a simple bar, big enough to cope, small enough to be friendly, with a restaurant that served food that would make Michael Winner happy. It was clean and for a few Krona's(pre Euros), you could have a clean shower and turn yourself alarming to charming in next to no time. And leave the rest of the evening to have a few beers and re introduce yourself to civilisation.
It wasn't long before all three of us had brushed up fed and was now tantalising our tonsils with Dutch amber nectar. We passed the night away with usual banter, got into some lengthy discussions with Dutch truckers on how to put the world to rights and soon we were all three blowing mist like dragons from our mouths into the crisp night air as we walked back to my truck.
"Ok in you get, whilst you were showering I made the bottom bed up for you with some spare bedding. Shout me when you are in bed."
Ten minutes later two loud okays came from inside. I climbed in  and without need of the light, I quickly got myself into the top bunk.

It was one of those long stares, I was staring at the roof of my cab and wondering where I was and who I was. Then through the taste of fuzz on my tongue came the 'Oh yeah' realisation of what had happened the night before. I peered over side into the bottom bunk. The sight that greeted me was a sight that will stay with me forever. Mitzi fast asleep, happily dreaming of being on a front cover, and Anna, looking up from her pillow beaming a big good morning to me, slowly moved her hand up to her mouth and slowly blew the kiss straight into my heart!
Within an hour we had coffee'd up in the truck stop, made ourselves into presentable humans again, Mitzi had phoned to see if everything was still on, and was now heading for Rotterdam. I had found an old map of Rotterdam and had a good idea where there flat was. This time Anna was on the bunk and Mitzi in the passenger seat. The rest of the journey was filled with Mitzi's aspirations and Anna endlessly smiling at me. Not smiling at me, smiling, at me, that big smile, yeah, that one! We turned into a suburb of Rotterdam that wasn't typical of most of the Netherlands, and although it was early morning by anyone else but postmen and the like. I had the distinct feeling that this area wasn't what Mitzi was looking for. We quickly found the address and Mitzi bounded out of the cab like a young deer. Bang bang bang. On the door as she knocked.
"Anna this don't look good, is this the address of the flat too?"
She unravelled the crumpled piece of paper that was Mitzi's dream. " Yes"
"MITZI," I shouted,"NO, GET BACK IN THE TRUCK."
As I shouted a few of the windows curtains twitched and parted, a few scantily clad women appeared, bemused at who's making all the noise so early.
Mitzi looked at me puzzled, stumbling back a few feet from the door. "GET BACK IN THE TRUCK, QUICK" I bellowed. With that the door flung open and there stood in the doorway was this place's very own Lady Marmalade! Mitzi looked shocked, the penny had dropped. I jumped down and I don't know quite how I did it it but I managed to pick up the young rabbit in the headlights Mitzi, and fling in one go back into the cab, climb in myself and get that rig moving outa there! leaving a bewildered set of eyes staring from what seemed every window.

By now Mitzi was faced backwards into the seat, "Wahahahahaaa" Her dream shattered, her vision of western warmth and welcoming shattered by the look of that harradon.
"What now?" Asked Anna as she put her arms around Mitzi trying to hug the pain away.
"Plan b" I replied with cheesy smile
"What is plan b?" she asked.
"When I think of it I will tell you."

Within half hour we were parked up outside our office, those who gave us the outbound work, in another part of Rotterdam. I had gatecrashed Patty's office. Patty was the brains and beauty of the operation, an woman in her late forties but she'd still got it. She always seemed like a nice sort, and I was about to put that to the test. After telling Patty the plight of my two stowaways, she clasped her hands to her face and asked them in. After a brief conversation in German, patty turned to me. She asked me to take them to her house, her daughter was away at university in Amersfoort, and they could have her room until they got sorted, she would phone her husband and explain while we were on the way.
Patty's hubby, who looked a bit like Matt Munroe, and a bit more senior in years than Patty, escorted the two girls into the house with a big beaming smile. I helped them in with their bags and bid them goodbye. Mitzi and Anna gave me big hug and thanked me. As I walked up the path Anna shouted "Wait" Please give me your address and phone number.
"Why" I stupidly asked! She replied by locking her arms around my neck pulling me into her face and said .
"This is why!" And kissed me full on the lips and with all the ferocity of a firecracker!
"Nah...." I said, and just when the total look of disbelief took over her entire face, I quickly added "...Only joking I'd love to!" she hugged and kissed me for all she was worth until the tears of joy and sadness came flooding out together.

We swapped as much info as we could and before I knew it I was on the road again. I collected the back load and the miles seemed shorter to Dunkerque this time. I was in bliss. And the kind of bliss that can only be removed by British Customs Officers asking you to touch your toes, the BAS**RDS.

Anna got her job at the college teaching music. Mitzi got a job in a bar to start with, and quickly found a fella, then ended up owning a hairdressing salon. I saw Anna as often as I could but my job has always had a heavy price to pay for it's freedom and it's adventure. Too many broken hearts!