Re: BBC - Spaghetti Junction
- From: "Brimstone" <brimstone520-ng01@xxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Tue, 25 Dec 2007 22:30:10 GMT
that she was carrying: he was not certain whether his sister had
been born then. Finally they had emerged into a noisy, crowded place which
he had realized to be a Tube station.
There were people sitting all over the stone-flagged floor, and other
people, packed tightly together, were sitting on metal bunks, one above the
other. Winston and his mother and father found themselves a place on the
floor, and near them an old man and an old woman were sitting side by side
on a bunk. The old man had on a decent dark suit and a black cloth cap
pushed back from very white hair: his face was scarlet and his eyes were
blue and full of tears. He reeked of gin. It seemed to breathe out of his
skin in place of sweat, and one could have fancied that the tears welling
from his eyes were pure gin. But though slightly drunk he was also
suffering under some grief that was genuine and unbearable. In his childish
way Winston grasped that some terrible thing, something that was beyond
forgiveness and could never be remedied, had just happened. It also seemed
to him that he knew what it was. Someone whom the old man loved -- a little
granddaughter, perhaps -- had been killed. Every few minutes the old man
kept repeating:
'We didn't ought to 'ave trusted 'em. I said so, Ma, didn't I? That's
what comes of trusting 'em. I said so all along. We didn't ought to 'ave
trusted the buggers.'
But which buggers they didn't ought to have trusted Winston could not
now remember.
Since about that time, war had been literally continuous, though
strictly speaking it had not always been the same war. For several months
during his childhood there had been confused street fighting in London
itself, some of which he remembered
.
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