In a hard place between common ground and the city words are unheard at the door of mercy
The Poet’s Common Ground
By Paul McCann
When you’re flying above the ground in a jet everything can be imaginary .
Up here you could be anything you wanted . I thought of myself like a transit soul leaving this world and becoming a resident of the unknown .
In this bright new world where clouds are the foundation of future mansions in a heavenly territory were rewards are timeless .
In a land where your dreams can float as easy as a thought running through your mind . I came back to reality with heart and mind in conflict .
All I wanted to do was to be with her but the miles between us seemed so distant . Absence either makes the heart grow fonder or it drives you mad in the process . Love is like an anchor or a ball and chain on the emotions .
My heart was light and my head abuzz .
My emotions were high as the plane that flew through the sky .
I found it hard to relax . I had no real desire to sleep .
Apart from the menu and directions on how to put on a life jacket there was nothing really interesting to read . I had listened to almost each of the selection of songs on the music channels .
Outside the window of the jumbo, it was dark and I tried to imagine an alien creature sitting out there on the wing of the plane looking in at us . Then I thought about the situation of being hi-jacked and then I thought about the engine on fire and before long I was asking the waitress for a drink and it wasn’t long before my prayers were being frantically offered up . I hoped to God it was easier to be heard so near headquarters . I looked at the faces around me but most of them were fast asleep . Time seemed to go so slow .
We had been in the air about twelve hours and I began to compose my thoughts . As soon as inspiration came so did the want to sleep .
But with a melody in my head and a new song on the way I didn’t want to sleep . A heaviness came upon me . Now I was tired but over the years I had always found that when I was half asleep or drowsy it was then that
I wrote my best lyrics . Spurred on by that thought I took out my pen and a notepad and started to write down some lyrics . Suddenly far below the lights of a country sparkled into view . The plane was descending and before long I had the title of my song . Jewels Of the East I though as the plane gradually came into land .
As the plane was being refuelled and cleaned all the passengers and crew
Made their way to the transit lounge . Soldiers with rifles were everywhere .
There were lots of strange people drifting through the duty-free shop and the bar in the Arab Emirates . Armed military were very much there in presence and it wasn’t a nice experience . I had thoughts of Belfast and things crept back into my consciousness . I tried not to think of someone pulling out a submachine gun in the transit lounge and starting a gun battle .
I looked at faces and began to suspect everyone as a possible gunman .
I looked at ways of not being a target . I hoped somebody innocent would not get caught in the crossfire . The reality hit and I remembered where I was .
All I wanted to do was get back on the aircraft . I made my way to the public phone and with pockets of tokens I purchased from a few of the armed guards
I made a frantic phone call from the public phone box to Linda .
The phone rang and Lindas voice answered .
“Hello . Who is it ?“
“ Hi Linda, it’s me . Paul . Guess where I am ringing you from ?
“ Who “
“It’s Paul . I’m ringing you from the Arab Emirates and it won’t be too long until I’m in London .“
It was just at that moment when the announcement came over to board the plane .I said a quick goodbye to Linda and made my way through a screen of armed soldiers to the bus that brought us all back to the aircraft .
We all sat there in the plane for some time waiting for the seat belt sign to come on . It never did . After a long wait the captain announced that we had lost a passenger and that we would have to wait until he was found .
An hour passed with us all sitting there on the plane . It was mentioned by the captain that a large crowd of people were hunting for this lost person .
Finally, they had discovered the lost man who had fallen asleep in a cubicle in the men’s toilet . Well, I must tell you he got the warmest reception when he finally came on board . Every one of us stood up and clapped and cheered ,
He was so apologetic as he came running on to the plane .
As soon as he took his seat we were on our way . The jets roared and the plane soared into the sky .
Hearing Linda’s voice had only made me feel all the more in Limbo .
I found my heart beating stronger than my head .
My mind and body were heavy and I was soon falling into a state of blurred semi-conscious images where only the best romantic thoughts dwell .
I fell asleep with the pen in hand and was gently awoke by the air hostess as the morning crept through the small window beside me . The plane wafted through a soft white cloud and the air hostess began to hand out breakfast on trays .
“ Good morning, Sir . Catching up on your letters .”
She said with a smile .
I rubbed my eyes and wondered what to say to her .
Then it came to me . I thought now is your chance to introduce the writer and the poet . Smiling back at her I said ,
“ Well catching up on letters is a bit like running after dreams a little don’t you think . Will anyone ever get to the end of it and discover the place where
reality is the only illusion . Do you remember Henry Lawson , the Australian poet ? Well, he once advised any Australian writer who wanted recognition to leave Australia . Do you think he had a point ?”
The air hostess looked at me with a puzzled expression and thought before she answered my question .
“ I travel a lot and I don’t have much time to write .
I wish I did though . Good luck with your dreams ”
She put down the tray before me and left .
I could see she was a bit spellbound by what I had said .
I hoped that her life would change for the better . I wished that she had more time to write and find thoughts . I gave a moment in silent prayer before tackling breakfast .
I enjoyed breakfast . It was delicious . Straight after eating I went into the gents toilet and freshened up . I checked the time and realised soon we would be coming in to Heathrow airport .
My heart was burning as I thought about Linda . The pilot spoke softly through the aircraft’s public address system , announcing
that we would soon be landing in London .
Walking back to my seat I met the air hostess who said ,
“ I hope you make it with your writing .”
I thanked her and took my seat . It wasn’t long before we had to fasten our seat belts . As I put my seat belt on, I thought
about the bondage I had with my writing . I realised there and then this compulsion to write had totally invaded my life .
The plane circled around for ten minutes above the misty grey city of London . When it was all clear to make a safe approach, we touched down at Heathrow Airport . I waited and watched all the passengers leave the aircraft . They poured themselves out from the plane and I sat for a moment looking at the empty seats feeling unsure about what was to come and a great
sense of being alone hit me . Here was I ten thousand miles from my family , and a lifestyle I had adapted to .
Australia had grown on me .
I walked from the plane , a nobody in this place , strangers passed me by with suitcases in their hand . I thought to myself , I wonder if they have heard of heaven . I wonder if they know where they are going with their excess baggage and their very important jobs . Outside the window I could see the day had
a typical overcast look about it . Soon I would have to face a cold morning out there on the streets of London .
To cheer myself up I dreamt about making a name for myself ,
and held that thought for a while . Maybe I could become a somebody . My fantasy was interrupted with a sudden halt as
the escalator suddenly stopped . Some malfunction in the system had broken down the moving walkway . So along with hundreds of other people , I walked along the long corridor to the customs and check out area . The journey to the baggage collection area
was long and tiresome . Each step I took seemed a long drawn-out process . When I arrived at the end of the walkway, I found the spot where all of the baggage came down . The conveyor belt was overloaded with all kinds of bags , boxes , and
all kinds of people stood waiting for their personal belongings to show up . I noticed a young lady who tried very hard to lift two heavy bags from the conveyor to a hand trolley . She was having some trouble , as her two small children were mucking up on her
She seemed perplexed as she took off her pink anorak and threw it over her shoulder . Her grey sweater was loose and long in comparison with her tight-fitting sky-blue jeans . Her white canvas shoes looked trendy but a bit out of season for this time of year . It was obvious she was not going to manage her bags and her kids at the same time so I went to give her a helping hand . I smiled at her and said ,
“ Let me help you love ”
Before I could grab her suitcase , I felt strong hands on my shoulders . I was pulled to one side by two plain clothed men who produced identification cards with photos . They began to fire questions at me .
“ Where are you going ? What is your name ? Where have you
come from ?
I was in shock and stood there feeling like a social outcast .
They refused to believe I was an Australian . My Belfast accent
was still very thick and as time went on, I could see that there
was a problem . In a second or two I was escorted away by
the two security men . I was taken into a small room in the airport and interrogated for four hours . My baggage was brought in to the room and everything was pulled through .
I gave a number of contact people in Australia . The security
checked out every one of them . At the end of the ordeal ,
I was given an apology and allowed to continue my journey .
My arrival in London was a cold hard awakening to reality .
I walked out from Heathrow airport in a daze and began to realise the harassment I went through was because of my Belfast accent .
They must have suspected that I was a terrorist on the run . Terrorists do travel from place to place and I understood how I could have been mistaken for one . After all I had a Belfast accent and no one accompanying me . Although I convinced myself the security where only doing their job I felt
hurt and angry at what had happened . I was not a member of the IRA , I had never fired a gun , thrown a brick , or harmed anybody in my life . The fact that I had become a victim ,
a suspect , a man hated and unwanted made me see the terrible
injustice of it all . The smile had now left my face . I withdrew
myself into a deep silence were I felt protected from insult and further harassment . Still shaken by the experience at Heathrow Airport I walked with no idea of where I was going . All I wanted to do was get away from the airport to some quiet place to collect my thoughts . After walking for hours, I discovered that London is not a quiet place
and that there are very few spots available to find space to think .
Like a train with no brakes, I was hurtling along the footpath with my belongings in a suitcase and desperation on my face . I knew I had landed and that was about the length and breadth of it .
I had no clue where to go or what to do next .
Eventually I got into a black taxi and asked the driver to bring me to Kingsland Road , Dalston in East London .
I was intrigued by the sidewalk’s where row after row of black garbage bags
Lay in the hope someone would pick them up . There were so many unfamiliar shops and council flats .
The driver asked me twice where I had to go . I then remember the name Queensbridge Flats but he had never heard of it so I told him to drop me off anywhere soon . As I got out of the taxi, I paid the driver and stood looking around me . More litter was piled up high on both sides of the road . A number of huge constructions surrounded me .
Somewhere in this concrete jungle was Linda’s flat .
I stood there as the song says lost in a lost world but reminded myself that
I had come so far already that the last stage of this journey would have to be child’s play .
I found a phone and called Linda who gave me the exact directions how to find her flat . It wasn’t long before I stood there waiting for the lift to bring me to her Floor at Rowan Place .
Like an innocent child I knocked on Linda’s door .
I could hardly wait to see her expression when she and I laid eyes on one another again . The door opened and she said ,
“What are you doing here ?”
I felt my world collapse instantly . Lost for words I scrambled for something to say . I scrambled and words refused to unfold .
There was something in the way and nothing came out .
“You better come in . ” she said .
I made my way inside her flat and sat down .
Linda looked very upset and she said ,
“ You can’t stay here ; my boyfriend will be here soon ”.
“Didn’t you say we were going to get married “ I said .
She looked at me with a hard face and said ,
“This is the end of the line for you ”
Apart from being humiliated from being so unwanted , I was
probably at that moment the loneliest man in the world .
Sure, enough a knock came to the door and in came Steve , Linda’s boyfriend . Immediately he began to roll himself a joint of hash and as he lit it up another knock came to the door .
In walked John , who was boarding with Linda . John was a London Cabbie and my first impression of him was that he was a dangerous man . Linda put a Chris Rea record on and turned up the volume . It was like a nightmare as I watched Linda and Steve kiss each other and giggle in-between clouds of white smoke that drifted up my nose .
They seemed to have forgot about me sitting there on the couch .
Another knock came to the door and in walked six young lads
with happy faces . They went straight into the front bedroom .
Linda went in after them and I never saw her again until the next morning . I had fallen asleep on the couch .
Her cat that
was curled up at my feet began to stretch and climb over my legs . It was quiet and I realised all the company from the night before had left . Linda walked past me into the kitchen without a good morning hello . She started slamming doors in the kitchen cupboards and then began to scream at me .
“ I’m going off to work this morning and I don’t want to see you here when I return ”
After a bowl of cereal, she had a shower . It wasn’t long before she emerged dressed for work in her black leather jacket and pants . The front door was closed after her and I sat staring at the walls in her flat . I must have remained that way for hours .
During the time she was at work I began to write some lyrics of a song entitled Lying on The Lounge . It was the first words had written since arriving in London . I was jolted by the sound of a key in the door and Linda’s return to the flat .
She was furious that I was still in the flat .
I sort of felt I wasn’t welcome . I tried not to think of myself as an unwanted dog in a flea house . I tried not to think of murder in the first second and third degree . I even tried not to think of this as another one of those moments when the ground would open up swallow you and spit you out in disgust .
All I could do was leave with my dignity .
I stood up and looked her in the eyes . Without uttering a single word, I then grabbed my bags and left . Without saying a word, she slammed the door of her unit behind me . I almost fell into the lift and made my way from level 13 to the ground floor . Dazed and confused as the song says
I could not work it out . Nothing seemed to gel .
I thought of myself being afflicted with a terminal illness and longed for death to come but the longer the road went the further I had to go and like a leper I walked a lonely street until it suddenly dawned on me that I had three Aunts who lived in a place called Wellingborough in Northants .
Now I had sanctuary . Far from the rocky jungle of London at last I had sight of some common ground . An oasis in a wilderness . A light in the tunnel . A song in the making .
I walked into a fish and chip shop and sat down at the table by the window .
I chewed over things with a hot cup of soup and asked some friendly people for information on how to catch a train to Northants .
After many enquires, I was told by a Negro who worked for the London underground system that I could get a train from St Pancras Railway Station would take me to Wellingborough .
So immediately I headed for St Pancras .
I walked with my suitcase in hand and on the way collected thoughts that ran like running water up a sewer . My emotions were throwing my heart upside down and inside out . My nerves were floating on a steel vessel on a stormy sea . Every thought I had ever had of Linda had been capsized .
Like a man on a deserted island, I wandered wearing a disguise of security and strength . God give me strength I thought to myself .
My cash flow was starting to dry up and I knew things had to
get better , as they couldn’t get much worse .
I got off at Wellingborough and looked up my aunts in the phone directory . They lived in a place called Kilnway and so
I caught a taxi that brought me to their door . When I got out of the taxi another taxi pulled up right in front of me . I could hardly believe it when my Aunt Mary and Rita got out of the car . They held two plastic bags of groceries their arms .
“Hello Aunt Mary and Aunt Rita , it’s me Paul . Your nephew
from Australia . ”
They ran over to me with their arms outstretched .
“Oh my God , what are you doing here ?”
They were almost in a state of shock .
“Well, I just came to say hello” I said .
“Come on in son you must be exhausted ”
I followed them up three flights of stairs and then through the front door of their flat . It was warm inside and welcoming .
Aunt Mary rang Aunt Katie while Aunt Rita put the kettle on .
Inside half an hour I was watered and fed and the flat was buzzing with people . My Aunt Katie arrived with some of my cousins . Everyone was so surprised to see me .
That evening a crowd of us went out to the local workers club .
I was introduced to all my aunts friends and was treated just like one of the locals . After a few drinks , I had a few dances a game of pool and then I started to open up to my Aunts .
I told them about Linda and my experience in London .
All my relatives were very upset about what had happened and
they tried to cheer me up with some funny stories about how things had gone since leaving Belfast for England .
I felt secure at last to have touched some common ground .
I was welcome in the company of all my relations and their
close friends . There were invitations every day to go out and
see the sights around Northants and beyond . From a game of Bingo with my aunts in Wellingborough , I went to the night clubs and discos with my cousins . I enjoyed weekend bets on the football pools , and the horse racing . At some of the local pubs I placed pool balls in pockets as I caught up with the latest songs on the jukebox .
I started to feel as if I could settle down here for a while .
The only thing that made me reconsider hanging around was my creative songwriting lifestyle that I was used to . I had been so busy doing things that I never had time to write . I remembered the air hostess on the flight to London and hoped she found time in her life were she could write . The trauma deepened as I was restricted to normality .,
Somewhere in my mind I imagined I was being held prisoner by a thug who was never going to set me free . The thug threw me into the keep of the thief who took from me every thought I wanted to write . I knew I had to break free and I knew somehow it was up to me to make a break for it .
Locked within my subconscious there were so many things I wanted to say .
I had scribbled down some words on scraps of paper and filed them away inside my suitcase for a later date .
My biggest headache now was money , for I had very little left to play with . Maybe people around me had thought I was loaded with cash coming from Australia but if
they knew how badly off I was I’m sure they would have been
as concerned as I was . I never told anyone I was nearly broke .
I had hoped that I would strike some luck on the horses but as yet I found it hard to crack the English form .
It seemed all my relations had adapted a comfortable English lifestyle . They were accepted by most of the community around them and there was never any of the bitter resentments some Irish people have endured while living in England .
The troubles in Belfast where still making headlines in the newspapers and on the TV . Although you felt distant from the troubles you could never afford to be complacent .
We all remained aware of the place we call home .
There was very little work now in Northern Ireland because of the violence and thousands of people were forced to leave their home and cross the water to find work . My cousin Brian and his sons often went over to work on construction sites in the Isle of Dogs in London . A long list of my cousins now all had steady jobs in England . Johnny was earning good money bricklaying , and Tommy operated a crane . Jim had a great engineering job . Everyone had told me there were jobs galore in London and so I decided it was time for me to look
for work . I had just enough ready cash left to buy a bus ticket to London and with a task to make or break it off I went
again, with a suitcase and guitar in hand .
As I left the common ground, I had come to know was something I was used to . Another wilderness awaited me .
Another picture I had to set my focus on . With an unknown future and the hard facts of being lonely and hungry .
I could not give up hope that my talent and my songs would make it . On this long hard road, I thought for a while about songwriters like me who may have had the same dreams as
I . I kept saying to myself all this suffering must be for something .
It Will be worth it in the end .
I was jolted back into reality by the loud chimes that rang out from the All-Saints Church Tower in the town centre .
The Church bells then began to ring out the sounds of Christmas as I checked my bus ticket for London . Bus after bus arrived but still there was no sign of the National Express . I waited and waited as the snow fell and people passed by with both arms full of shopping bags , parcels , and carry outs for Christmas .
Suddenly the bus rolled up and I got on . The driver seemed
glad to have some company as there were no other people on board . I showed the driver my ticket and took my seat by a window . As we headed out of Wellingborough, I watched the countryside roll by . Now and then a small shop or a petrol station would appear and the bus driver would make a
scheduled stop without anyone getting on .
Eventually another passenger got on . She was a West Indian and looked as if she had a lot on her mind . No sooner was she on and she was off again . Three stops and she was gone . The snow now had turned into sleet and that changed to rain just as the night began to fall . I placed my head to the side and tried to get some sleep . My eyes stared through a misty window and I wondered about how cold the streets of London would be .
The National Express picked up speed as we headed along the expressway . From the distance could see little street lights in
villages that I would never visit . There where may signs and bright lights as we passed large towns and I felt as if I was locked inside a spaceship in the twilight zone . I had absolutely
nothing in common with anything I saw .
I was awoken by the screaming of the bus driver .
“ Come on we’re in London , off you get ”
I picked up my suitcase and six string guitar and stumbled off into a busy Victoria Street Station . Completely lost I stood there
and thought what was I to do , and where could I go .
I made my way to a phone and rang the only person I knew in London .
“Hello Linda , its Paul . How are things ? ”
“ Fine , is everything all right Paul ?” She said .
I was quite taken back as it sounded like she was concerned .
“Things could be better ” I said .
“Why are you in some trouble ?
“ No , I’m just looking for work ”.
I couldn’t believe I was talking to the same person . The tone between us was warm and the thought passed through my mind that she and Steve had broken up . I tested out the waters .
“ How are things with Steve and yourself Linda ?”
“ Great , although I don’t see him a lot these days .
He’s busy with his job . Hey Paul, do you remember that taxi-driver guy who was boarding with me ?”
“ You mean the quiet fella with the thick moustache ”
“ Yes , well he has been arrested and charged with bashing
up one of his customers . He also owes me a few weeks rent .”
“ The first time I saw him I had a gut feeling that he was
trouble Linda . You are lucky he was arrested . So, tell me
have you got a new lodger yet ?
“ Not as yet . I could really use the extra cash at the moment .
I put an advertisement in the Evening Star , so I hope I get a
response soon ”.
In an unguarded moment with no place to stay and the night
on its way , I felt helpless as I laid myself before her like a lamb to the slaughter .
“ What would you say if I wanted to move in ?”
“ Well why don’t you come over and we’ll have a chat ”
“ Ok . How would I get to your place from Victoria Street ?”
“ Get a tube and get off at The Angel Islington . Then make
your way to Old Street . Theres a regular bus that passes Liverpool Street station that will bring you down the Kingsland Road . Once you see the Dalston Post Office get off and you’ll see the tower block flats from there ” .
“ Right , that was the Angel Station you said ?”
“ The Angel Islington . It’s like a double word . If you get lost
ask somebody or ring me . Once you get to Liverpool Street
station , you are almost here . ”
“Ok . I’ll see you later then ”
“ Bye . Take care , Yea “
With absolutely no idea where to go I walked along the streets of London . The rain fell and soaked me to the skin .
Somehow, I managed to find myself at the underground by
St Pauls where I bought a ticket to The Angel Islington .
Where to now I thought .
There’s a place between common ground and the city where emotions are at the mercy of city streets and the words of the poet are unheard , like a beggar at the door of love .
The Poet’s Common Ground
