English

29.12.2006

MY ADVENTURES IN LONDON

MY ADVENTURES IN LONDON

 

 

    I mailed my application to the headquarters of The Council of Europe located in Strassborg, France and thus the waiting began for an answer.

 

  When almost a year had passed I had more or less given up all hopes for a study-visit in another country and stopped thinking about it.

 

   On the tenth of Desember 1991 the hope was awakened anew when I got a neat looking letter from The Council's headquarters wherein I got the information that they were sorry that because of the great number of appliances from people that wished to visit either Holland or Britain I had to name other countries that I would be willing to visit, if I couldn't go to either of these two. 

 

 I gave an alternative answer right away: Italy or Spain. 

 

     My wait for the next letter was a lot shorter.

 

 In March I received a letter where I was informed that I along with another Icelander had been chosen from a hundred Icelandic candidates on the reason of our extensive education.

 

 The timing of our study-visits had already been made by the Council and my visit was supposed to take place in next September and my stopping-place would be London, England, because of my knowledge of the English language.

 

  I would receive further information from my intended contact, Leslie Goode who was then an employee of the International Relations Branch in the great city.

 

     When I received these news I jumped my height into the air, or so to speak, for my dream had finally come true. 

 

     In August I got information from Mr. Goode about a great number of dwelling-places in the big city, along with the intended program for the fortnight which the study-visit was supposed to be in progress.

 

 I chose The Grafton, a hotel on Tottenham Court Road, because considering the information I received there it would be cheapest for me to stay.

 

 The list informed me that, actually wrongly that I was able to stay there for only 29 pounds per night.

 

 I found the price not so bad compared to others', considering that each room had fancy accommodations, as a TV and a WC and a shower.

 

I mailed Leslie a letter, where I told him about where I'd decided to stay while my study-visit lasted.

 

 Now I could begin the preparation of my greatest journey so far. 

  

     The suspence within me grew more as my departure came closer, and because I'd never travelled abroad on my lonesome, my anxiety elevated into the highest heights.

 

  Again and again I asked myself the same question, whether it would not be best to alter all my plans by abandoning my study-visit all together, but then my lovely fiancée, herself having gotten used to travelling alone between countries, encouraged me once again. 

 

      The sixteenth of September ran up and I had turned up inside one of Icelandsair's Boeings' at eight o'clock in the morning.

 

 On this chilly Monday I was wearing light clothes which I'd bought at a clearance sale on the grounds of where I was going;

 

 south into a warmer climate;

 

 white khaki-trousers, a short-sleeved flowered shirt with a light blazer on my left arm.

 

 In my right arm I carried a tiny queer-purse which I'd purchased in Sweeden ten years earlier.

 

 Wherein I kept various valuables, such as a passport, a few pounds Sterling, the pipe, a lighter and Sweet Dublin pipe-tobacco.

 

 To find me a seat, I stood at the end of the passage with searching eyes looking down by the seats until I chose to sit by a window, so that I would be able to see England from above.

 

 For quite a while I seemed to be able to have all three seats for myself, which wouldn't have been to my liking, for I'm a social being.

 

     Just before the departure of this marvellous vehicle, a man whom I knew who was and was an employee of The Icelandic Prime Contractor, suddenly appeared along with a woman whom I presumed was his wife.

 

    I'd come acquainted with him in one of my many visits to the IPC's office building on the Keflavik Naval Station.

 

 The purpose of my many visits was to go there with my big begging-stick seeking for donations for various companies and social gatherings.

 

     When this acquaintance of mine who has an especially good spirit had introduced me and the mrs. one to another we began chatting.

 

 Our chat came to an end just before the plane came to Heathrow Airport, which is located a little way outside the enormous London city.

 

  I was quite happy for having had these unexpected companions, especially when I discovered they had travell-ed a lot.

 

 And that this was far from being their first visit to this home of millions.

 

 Having informed them about what a fool I was when it came to travelling they promised to assist me finding my hotel, where I could make a phone-call to my contact  Mr. Leslie Goode. 

 

   Being alone in this gigantic building of an airport, where it was so very crowded that I could easily have lost myself, I realized my sheer luck of having these extraordinary travelling-companions by my side.

 

They acted as being on their homeground and almost dragged me through the corridors of this largest airport in our world.

 

    Before I knew it we had settled ourselves comfortably in the backseat of a taxi, which was one of those original old-fashioned black taxis.

 

 I felt just like I were a participant in an English movie, having that old deja vu feeling everywhere we went, I thought I'd must have been there before.

 

 As we drove through the streets of London, I was familiar with the long sequences of similar looking continuous two storey brick-houses;

 

 the bobbies (street-policemen wearing high blackhelmets) and not forgetting wide known places and buildings as the Buckingham-Palace where the queen and her mate live some of the time. 

 

    After a long, but pleasant journey the taxi stopped at these loving couples' resting-place but there our travels parted.

 

 They gave the driver instructions on where I was heading, and they paid him in advance for the whole trip.

 

 My "powerful" reclaims were of no use, but never the less they did accept my wholehearted thanks for the appreciated favor. 

 

      After I'd arrived at the Grafton hotel in Tottenham Court Road and after my introduction I got a really unpleasant welcome.

 

 I was informed that I couldn't be registered before I'd paid 100 pounds in advance.

 

      I excused myself, but informed that I did not have so much money on my person.

 

 Then I informed the hotel manager about the purpose of my visit to this city.

 

 I was travelling on a grant from the European Council and that I had received totally wrong information about the dwelling-price on this hotel which I'd picked out from a long list.

 

 I would just have to find me another dwelling-place which suited my financial standing.

 

 Would be closer to the 29 pounds that were in my planning.

 

     I got permission to leave my suitcase in the lobby, while I went for a short trip trying to meet with my contact, Mr. Goode, who would have to help me find cheaper accommodations.

 

 The dashing hotel-manager;

 

 wearing a black uniform with golden bosoms was eager to assist me in any way, having listened to my story. 

 

     -Where are you heading, Mr. Erikson?

 

 He asked with his especially clean and beautiful pronunci-ation of the English language;

 

 the politeness and helpfulness being an unseparable part of his self, exactly like he were a true upper-class Englishman, in spite of his Asian appearance. 

 

     Leslie had mailed to me a photo-copied roadmap of this part of the enormous city, but despite him having marked with a pen the streets which I was supposed to thread to reach the Steel House which housed the offices of the IRB, I wasn't too eager to throw myself into the traffic which seemed to me, being an Icelander, a total chaos.

 

  By means of getting better instructions,I showed the friendly manager my photo-copy.

 

 He informed me that the underground train-station or the tube was just around the next corner and having reached that spot my possibilities would be limitless.

 

 He informed me further that tunnels lay chriss-chross under the whole city on unequal depths with rails in them all.

 

 The only thing I'd have to do was to give up where I was heading and pay a ticket. 

 

    Having gained this information I said good-bye and walked around the corner.

 

 There I arrived at an entrance, over which was a black, blue and white shield with the word UNDERGROUND. 

 

 I hurried into the building, where a lady sat behind a window in a cabinet.

 

 I informed her where I was heading and paid a pound for the lift. 

 

 Then I ran down the stairs, which seemed to be endless until I came on the right platform, where I found Tothill Street among a great number of other stoppage-names on a big shield. 

 

 The concrete platform, where many people were standing and waiting the arrival of the next train, I found truly peril-like.

 

 There's no safety-fence between where people are standing and the rail, which lies in a pit beneath.

 

 I got real goose-bumps when the train came running like a monster with an awful shriek.

 

 A certain incident from a thriller I'd read came instantly to my mind, where the mass-murderer's favourite pastime was pushing innocent people under just before the tube came raging. 

 

      The tube began to move.

 

 After a short while and a few stops I noticed the sign of my destination St. James's Park.

 

 From there it was just a short walk to the office, where Leslie Goode was to be located.

 

      There were a few exits from the train-station and of course I was able to choose a wrong one and get lost, before I assembled enough courage and wit to ask someone for assistance in the great mass of people that seems to be there on the streets of London all day long.

 

 To my liking it appeared that the only thing I'd have to do was re-entering the station just to exit the opposite end. 

 

     When I finally arrived at the Steel House Mr. Goode happened to be elsewhere. 

 

 Anyway I was able to accomplish an info about where I had to go to get the money the European Council had granted me.

 

    Their office I found to be too small compared to all the people that had to work there and felt certain that Icelandic clerks wouldn't want to work in such narrowness. 

 

     When I was standing in the door-way on my way out, the phone happened to ring and I halted.

 

 You might find it strange, but somehow, you could call it intuition, I had this feeling that this phone-call was related to me.

 

  And I ain't lyin'. 

 

    -Mr. Erikson!

 

  A girl with an angel-like voice called. 

 

  It's for you, sir. 

 

  For a moment I gaped in the doorway.

 

 This must be something supernatural, were my astounded thoughts.

 

 Who might be aware of where I am at this moment?

 

 I bowed my head before I put the receiver to my ear.

 

 I immediately recognized the voice of the friendly hotel-manager whom I'd parted with exactly an hour before.

 

 He informed me, that posterior to my departure from the hotel he had begun to turn over in his mind whether he might be able to lower the price of the lodging for me the short time I'd be staying in the city, chiefly because of my noble intentions, that is in the sake of disabled people in Iceland. 

 

     -Do you think that 30 pounds is too much for you, sir?

 

     With that proposition in mind I tried to reconsider the effect of this alteration on my position. 

 

     -Per night, I inquired, feeling just as having heaven in my hands, trying to disguise my voice in such a fashion that he wouldn't be able to notify how pleased I was with his generous offer.

 

      Instead of me trying to lower the price any further, I decided to take it as it was and with a polite gesture I gave him my gratitude.     

 

            II

 

       This was like being in another world. 

 

  It seemed that everything possible was being done to make the disables' lives a little more tolerable, but of course that was the side of the problem that I was allowed to see.

 

     Within British law and regulations there are clauses that recommend, that inside every company, whether they may be in a private or public ownership, at least 3% of its employees should be disabled in any way, and in my opinion we should also have such a regulation in Iceland.

 

     If companies do not put these clauses in force, the Job-Center is obliged to apply for the employer's explanation for not fulfilling the regulation and then to explain why it is imperative for everyone to be employed, instead of being passive at home.

 

      This regulation that says that 3% of the employees should be disabled came about after the Second World War, when the number of disabled people grew greatly.

 

 If a company wants to, it can make a deal with the State, which says that the company pays 60% of the disable's salary, but the State the rest.

 

This agreement could be in progress the whole time that the disabled person is employed.

 

 But in most cases the employers decide to denounce the agreement, when they realize that the cripples are seldom any burden on the activities, as long as they get a job that suits them.

 

     In my country, Iceland the current law was set in 1979 and covers a three year agreement when the reimbursing of salary-cost is on in certain proportions. 

 

 There are similar rules concerning all necessary alterations of the disable's lodgings. 

 

     The track of finding a job for a disabled person is best shown by explaining how it's done at an office called Job-Centre, located in Deptford a small precinct of London and an equalling of the Social-Affairs office in Keflavik, my home town.

 

      Unemployed people visit the Job-Centre once a week either for signing up, fetching their unemployment benefits or just surveying a large bulletin-board, where are to be seen all new job-proposals. 

 

     Close to the entrance are two desks by which two men are sitting;

 

 TheJob-Searching Deputy a 22 year old lad who is by the way blind is by one, but by the other desk is a 45 year old assistant of his who is an epileptic.

 

      Deputy Andy Taylor converses with the clients, then repeats the conversation to his assistant Bob Woods, who acts as his sight and puts all information on the bulletin-board and does everything that the seeing can only do.

 

     Andy is able to travel securely about with the aid of his white stick and a dog.

 

     They informed me, that they managed to find jobs for 15 to 20 disabled persons per year in their neighbourhood, which is inhabited by a quarter of a million people and that is thought to be a fair accomplishment. 

 

 I followed and kept tabs on their work until noon, when it was time for lunch;

 

 a sand-wich and a pint of beer at a pub.

 

     After our meal Andy showed me a workshop, where unemployed people, either being disabled or not learn how to work at computers, e.g. repairing, assignments for various firms located somewhere else or just plays computer-games as a means to get rid of computer-shyness. 

 

     Job-Searching deputies in London only have to send their clients to interviews with propable employers, posterior to others having prepared them.

 

      To begin with one of the staff writes a letter to the companies, where he/she describes which are the advantages of employing disabled people, then two deputies visit them;

 

 one to the smaller ones, but the other to the larger ones.

 

  They check on whether the 3%-regulation is enforced and seek explanations if it's not.

 

 In that way they find propable employers.

 

    When this has been done the prepared files come into the hands of deputies like Bob and Andy who then can send unemployed disabled people to firms where their dream of finding a job might come true.

 

     The Job-Searching deputy of Sudurnes, being myself in this case attends to all these tasks himself, for the reason of having a lower population and fewer companies. 

 

     Approximately at eight o'clock each morning a new guide appointed by the IRB arrived at the Grafton where I was staying with the aim of taking me on a mystery tour where the wonders that my hosts had done or were doing in issues of disabled people were revealed to me.

 

    Throughout the city socalled Job-Centres are to be found, but there unemployed people, either disabled or not sign up for miscellanous jobs that could come up.

 

     I got a chance to study a few such centres.

 

  We also visited a few reserved workshops, where un-employed people get a chance to attend various courses and lectures free of charge.

 

 By such attending they are able to increase their ability in whatever job they'd like to get, or just learn something new.

 

 Potential branches were quite many;

 

 anything between carpentry to computer-exercise which in my opinion primarily was done with various computer-games.

 

     When I inquired what was the reason for all this emphasis on games, instead of something with a better thrift, such as bookkeeping I was told that to begin with it was necessary to reduce the fear of computers which is quite common, especially amongst the elders. 

 

     One morning I got acquainted with various methods and baits that Job-Searchers can use in the endless struggle it may be finding employment for all kinds of disabled people.

 

 I also got to see how the deputies keep the disables under observation once they've begun working, so it will be able to intervene before it's too late. 

 

     In the two last days of my study-visit I got to visit preserved work-rooms in the company of two engineers from SEPACS which is a union of suchs workrooms.

 

 The engineers' job is to find and choose tasks for the people that work there.

 

     The former day we drove to a place that lies a bit north of London, called Papworth which covers quite a large area and where there is various activity like a print-shop;

 

 the making of leather-handbags;

 

 making of caravans which are put on trucks;

 

 production of auxiliary devices for those who have to live with multi-disability, e.g. wheel-chairs and grab-cranes;

 

 a carpentry and production of colour-pencils and pens.

 

     A funny coincidence came about, when I was talking with one of the bosses at Papworth when he heard that I came from Keflavik in Iceland.

 

 He told me that his son lived in Keflavik working as the manager of the American bank on the naval base and that his Icelandic wife being the daughter of a prominant man in that town named Gudjon Olafsson, nicknamed Gaui Ola Sol and his wife called Malla.

 

Then came the truly unbelievable part of this story;

 

 when I informed him that at that moment we were talking my parents were vacationing in sunny Spain along with guess who?

 

Yes need I say more.

 

 His son's in-laws are my parents best friends and they were at that moment in sunny Spain together.

 

IS THIS A SMALL WORLD, OR IS THIS A SMALLWORLD!!!??? 

 

      On the latter day we drove to the south of the mighty city to a place where there's another work-shop, but a bit smaller with a different kind of activity. 

 

 There they produce various kinds of china for many firms and societies;

 

 beautifully chased cups and dishes along with the proper inscription.

 

 Old, wrapped chocolate is brought there from a chocolate-factory;

 

 multi-disabled people unwrap it and send the contents to a piggery.

 

      A one-armed man in a wheel-chair makes and puts together remote airplanes which are real masterpieces.

 

     Both of these workshops reminded me a lot of Solheimar (Sunny-world) located in Grimsnes back home in Iceland, a small world inside another one, wherein the staff also live their lives.

 

     In both places there is a training-facility and a sorting-station, where each ones' ability and fitness is sorted out before receiving any type of work.

 

      It was marvellous to witness how humans as a species are able to accommodate him- or herself for doing jobs that I would never have thought possible, e.g.

 

  I'd like to mention one man who's a victim of the Thalidomid-Scandal. 

 

      Thalidomid is the name of a drug, which was prescribed to pregnant women for the purpose of decreasing the queasiness that often annoys these darlings.

 

  Unfortunately the drug had the side-effect, that the children were born with horrible abnormity.

 

     The man in question was crippled in the way, that he had just a tiny crippled hand that stands out from the right sholder-joint, with which he carried the pen when he wasn't writing remarks at each working table with his left hand, which was very thin and perversed by the way. 

 

  He inspects the work of other employees!

 

    What characterized everyone of these unfortunate people was their joy of life and how very happy they seemed to be while working, despite the cross they had to bear.