Selling the Crown Jewels-the third uri-nation

Selling the Crown Jewels-the third uri-nation

Scribble
anytime
scrap paper in library(not any place)
borrowed library pen(not anywhere)

Elizabeth the Queen
not anytime
anyplace
anywhere

Dear Elizabeth

I am in a blue plaque house of the novelist Charles Dickens. It is a
lovely place full of books written by the famous English novelist.
There is a book by his daughter called tales of the Royals. Have you
read this book and have you replied to any of my letters? I have
checked with my social worker at Julia the social worker, Springfield
Hospital, Teak Tower, 3rd Floor, 61 Glenburnie Road London SW.17 and
she has not received any letters from you. I think this is a bit rude
even though I understand that you must be very busy. You do not have
that problem which I know some people have of using the Royal Mail
because it has your head on the stamp. I wrote myself to Post Officers
Counters asking if it would be possible to use different peoples head
on the stamp when I was sleeping in Heathrow airport. I even suggested
that for a certain charge a person could have several stamps with their
own head on. Maybe you could write to post office counters you must get
bored with seeing your own head on every stamp. Anyway, this book by
Charles Dicken's daughter is excellent and I enclose a rewritten story
with this letter.

SELLING THE CROWN JEWELS

It's London in late April. The weather should be warmer, the sky should
be bluer and the birds should sing louder except they are not. For Toby
even when the weather is fine he says what he always says, 'nice day,
shame about the weather.' Toby originates from Somalia. The country and
his family had been ravaged by war and famine and more war. Someone had
to leave the vast scorched sand where mines lie waiting for someone to
take the wrong path. Toby walked along the Thames staring at the still,
almost stagnant water missing his girl so many rivers beyond with both
of them still waiting for that safer shore. Toby sings his earthy water
song as he covers the water's edge. He faces the concrete office blocks
and landings all formed from sand like the desert he has left behind.
People pass him. Lovers kissing in the sunset who sense what he is
missing and sleepless tramps who smile at his good soul. 'The world is
mad he thought to himself, people just want to control to kill.' He
finally sat down close to Tower Bridge and let the tear roll down his
cheeks and his stomach quaked in the rhythm of the waves of his tears.
All those years of running from war turned into one long heartful cry.
He cried long, full tear drops both of the home he missed and the girl
waiting for him. He cried from his heart and from his soul. It was
enough to still the present chaos in his mind. He than put pen to paper
and wrote a letter to his girlfriend.

Toby Abigona
The Dockhouse
Kings Road
London SW 3

Dear Eva,

I am writing to you, my love. firstly to say how much I miss you and
the rest of your family. In fact all that keeps me from losing my mind
is the work I do and the fact that I know I am working to send money
home to you my love. The work is menial shop work and I only get ?2.50
an hour, however I do get free food. I do apologise that the amount of
money I get is so small. Here in London the streets are grey, the
pavements are grey, the people are grey(there are some people of
colour) yet the money is coloured gold, blue, brown and purple and the
bank cheques are more colourful still and the language is, money talks,
talks too much. Dear Eva will you come to London to join me and start a
new life. The city is vast and there are plenty of Northern Africans
who I mix with sharing my goodies and songs with. We will both be happy
here. I will leave you with this poem.

SPARE PEN

I always keep a spare pen
For us to write the poem
Our inks overlocking and overlapping with letters
Love letters waiting for song
And as with talk with each other
We drop our pens into the river
We end it all with love and kisses
In our ocean of love.

Toby's ink cried onto the paper and then dried, almost like the sun
dries out on the pavement. The letter finished he stuck the stamps on
upside-down and added a cartoon ballon which stated 'The Queen says now
we need a Dodi Fayed and Diana stamp for the Landmine's charity.' He
would not forget his war torn past and thought to himself this is one
occasion when the Queen is not talking rubbish. He than wrote his
hostel address on the back. He lived in a little cabin on a hostel. It
was late now as he walked that river and posted that letter. He just
wanted to fall into bed and dream of his girlfriend with black-honey
lips and go to sleep.

In the morning he heard a knock on the door which he thought was a
postman's knock. Most people look forward to that knock. It could be a
letter from an old friend, a post card from a sister, a parcel from an
aunt or even a cheque from the social security or even a postal order
from the Queen. As Toby dreamt, someone in the post office sorting
office had spotted the stamp being upside-down and his cartoon style
protest. The sorting officer had contacted the authorities. In fact it
was a policeman's knock that Toby had heard, he was getting sorted. The
policeman, a white policeman held up the letter,"Now look Toby we could
arrest you for this act, however, a case like this in court, especially
with your comments on the envelope could cause adverse publicity for
the Royals. The Royals have been informed and the Queen herself is
concerned and touched by your plight. As such, she has offered you the
job of cleaner at Hampton Court Palace. You will get your own uniform,
your wages will be much better than you get now and she is even
throwing in a self-contained flat within the palace, which you must of
course keep clean. As a special bonus, you will get freepost to
anywhere in the world.

Toby looked at the policeman in half-horror and half-delight. The
thought of more cash and his own space filled him with delight. He
could send more money home to his girlfriend and of course have his own
space to put his feet up, watch the television, invite guests in etc.
However, the thought that the system in order to keep the Queen's 'good
name' horrified him. He seemed to have little choice however and so
signed the contract. After all the job was only for a year. He thought
to himself, "Oh well, if I am going to be in prison, I might as well be
a cleaner in a palace."

The policeman that arrested Toby was a policeman from the river police.
He gave Toby the choice of a 'prison issue' cruise to his new job at
Hampton Court Palace or the scenic undercover route on a pleasure
cruiser and guided tour of the Thames. He did of course choose the
later,"Take me to the bridge."

Toby and the police officer carried Toby's few belongings and they soon
reached the point of docking. The policeman even bought Toby a couple
of beers en route stating that he would get his money back off the
River Police Authority. The policeman also promised to make a
collection off his fellow workers for landmine victims. "We will be
pleased to give the collection the royal seal of approval."

Toby was welcomed at the gate of Hampton Court Palace by a caretaker.
The air was fresh and the kindly caretaker told Toby the he would give
Toby the usual first day tour of the palace. The air was fresh and the
buildings and gardens beautiful. There were flowers everywhere and even
a little wild area full of many green things. Toby thought maybe one
day he could do some gardening work in the Palace. Hampton Court also
has the famous maze. The caretaker informed Toby that it was important
to clean the maze as he showed Toby through it. "I am a cleaner being
taken to the cleaners by you," Toby said to this kind old gentleman.
When Toby saw his own quarters he was delighted. He had a nice big room
with a sofa bed and a television. His own kitchen area where he could
cook his own Somalian meals and he was told that guests were allowed
into his quarters with prior permission from the Royals or the
Management as they were known by staff members. It seemed strange to
Toby to have his own Home Sweet Home in what was a Palace. Toby was
suprised that there were no signed photographs of the Queen or
portraits. 'Maybe I will have a go at an African art style portrait of
the Queen myself,' he thought 'The place could do with brightening up.'
There were other signs of royalty. On Toby's cutlery had Royal stamps
on it and even the tea was by Royal Appointment. Toby was surprised
that he did not get free Ribena, Benson &; Hedges cigarettes and
Cadbury's chocolates.

Toby's work as cleaner was painstaking. Once shown the motions by the
head cleaner it was simple and stress free. He had to rise very early
in the morning to avoid the growing mass of tourists in all shapes and
sizes, shades and colurs and languages. Tourists would sometimes drop
their sweetie wrappers or mark the halls with muddy footprints.
Cleaning in such areas were the main stay of Toby's work. As the only
Somalian and black person working in the Palace he missed his hostel
friends where he spent his spare time playing cards and sharing the
songs of his mother tongue. The free post he was allowed gave him the
chance to write to his girlfriend more and more frequently. He also
sent cassette tapes of his songs, poetry and various other items
including; a box of tea by royal appointment and the Queen Elizabeth
coronation teaspoon.
Having felt the effects of war himself and the madness it can bring, he
did notice that some of his colleagues were slightly askew. To be
continued