Ikle Bits - 2. I Got A Feeling

Darkness at eight a.m. in the morning is still keeping me in a thorough funk. The unusual phenomenon of waking up to a squawking green monster on the bedside table alerting me to the fact that a new working day has dawned, and realising that there is a depressive lack of sunshine streaming through my window is not conducive to a sprightly desire to get up and make the most of the day!

Half awake, but much more asleep than aware of my actions I get up from the bed in auto pilot mode, stagger across to the bathroom and deposit myself upon the porcelain throne to complete my morning motions.

With my hand on my chin I think I might have even nodded off on the seat for a moment, as I am rudely brought back to reality when my chin, lubricated by the drool trickling from my lips, slides from its perch on my clenched fist.

Annoyed with myself, I reach out for some bog roll only to discover that there is nothing but a cardboard roll, prompting me to reflect on the fact that I’d forgotten to buy toilet paper at the grocers yesterday.

My mood is further soured, and my language colourful. I’m grateful that I occupy the flat on my own, as I believe that Sally and the kids would pass out if they could hear the torrent of obscenities escaping from my lips.

I jump across to the shower and turn the hot water on full, stepping into the cascade of droplets with a gasp as the tiny daggers of scorching water spray down across my skin.

This is possibly my favourite part of the day. There is something refreshing, almost spiritual about a singeing hot shower. The heat washes away the stress of yesterday’s troubles, and diminishes the shadows and demons of last night’s dreams. I’ve heard people say that the feel alive, kind of reborn after a lovely hot shower. Yes, I think that’s pretty damn close to how I feel about my morning shower.

Clean and revitalised, I choose a soft blue viscose shirt with a grey three piece suit that looks rather fetching on my sleek form, even if I do say so myself.

I choose a steel silver silk tie and highly polished black dress shoes to complete my attire for this last day of the week at the office. I glance at myself in the full length mirror at the end of the wardrobe and smile.

“This man looks fine!”

I chuckle to myself and grab at my laptop bag, prepared for departure the night before, and glide through the hall into the lounge and beyond to the entry hall. I have a feeling that today could be a pretty good day.

As part of an engineering design team consulting to the London Olympic Committee I have been in London for five months already, leaving my little family unit in sunny Port Elizabeth in South Africa. I miss them madly, but this is such a massive opportunity, and while I feel bad for leaving them alone, I have to ask would you have missed it?

It is a little known fact that Port Elizabeth actually lies further South than the city of Cape Town, but really not by a lot. PE is a more quaint, fairly traditional ‘Afrikaner’ city having its own unique flavour. It is a slightly slower pace of life, and enjoys more predictable weather as it is buffeted by the emerald green waters of the Indian Ocean, escaping the raging torrents of the Atlantic that tear at it’s sister city on the peninsula.

It would be summer back home now. Temperatures of twenty eight degrees Celsius, brilliant days of uninterrupted sunshine and a family to share it all with, instead I am stuck facing darkness as I step outside the front door into foggy oppression that is a typical British Friday morning.

Traffic is already hectic along Cadogan Terrace. I wonder towards my bus stop checking my watch trying to work out when the next number 28 is due. My cottage is just the other side of Old Ford the retired industrial complex that is now home to the Olympic village, just the other side of the A12 link road feeding into central London.

I am lucky enough to be right opposite Victoria Park which during the heady days of the summer was a welcome place to relax and unwind. Walking through the trees and watching kids delight at the freedom to play, spirited my mind home to my own children. I’m sure that this tranquil spot has helped me to endure this separation from my nearest and dearest.

It is never easy working away from home, but you soldier on, concentrate on the job at hand and the days roll by. I’ve been keeping my head down and focusing on the important things and we are not too far from completion of our obligation to this project. Happy days!

I slowly made my way up towards Lime Grove where the bus shelter was located. Cody Jefferson a young MIT student that was volunteering for a local contractor supplying electrical engineering advice for the site while on an extended sabbatical from his studies to work out some “life issues” was just coming out of his door, a few down from my own.

“Hi Cody,” I said cheerfully.

“Hey Douglas, you got today’s newspaper at all?” he asked.

“Um… no, it hasn't been delivered yet mate.” I replied.

He frowned looking up and down the road. “Nor mine,” he muttered shaking his head.

“Come one dude, in this weather are you surprised?”

We stood silently next to one another for a moment. The sounds of the city were subdued. Oppressed it seemed by the thick fog.

“It’s kind of ghostly today,” Cody murmured. “Almost like the fog is trying to stop the public from seeing something terrible happening.”

I shuddered, goose pimples running up my back. I grimaced as I looked at Cody. This was one strange kid sometimes.

We set off down past The Morning Glory pub and the garden centre, already buzzing with work being undertaken by a flurry of blue uniformed staff. It was strange to think that in this paranormal atmosphere that suffocated the city, a normal working day was unfolding.

We reached the mini round about and turned into Lime Grove. The bus stop is only a few meters from the junction and we had a few moments to spear, so we ambled along in no immediate rush.

“You know where I could get a coffee roll?” Cody asked.

“A coffee how much?” I queried.

“Oh I don’t know how much they’ll cost,” said Cody. “I just want to know where to get one.”

I giggled to myself, Cody looking at me strangely.

“Sorry mate, it’s a South Africanism. I tend to say ‘How Much’ when I have never heard of something before,” I explained still chucking.

I light went off in Cody’s brain and he smiled.

“Ah right,” he said. “Um… A coffee roll, like a baked pastry.”

“Gosh I’ve never heard them called that before,” I said.

“Really?” He looked at me amazed. “Like a hot cross bun, or a Danish pastry. You know….. A coffee roll!”

“No honest.” I smiled at him shaking my head.

“Well that’s what we call them back home,” he shrugged at me.

I grinned widely.

“You American’s and your Americanisms!” I teased.

“Oh, you South African’s and your weird and wonderful sayings thank you very much.” Cody had mock indignation in his voice.

We both burst out laughing, just as we saw low headlights breaking out through the fog. It had to be the bus approaching.

We turned together and began ambling towards where the huge people carrier would stop and open its doors to allow us entry into its warm, safe interior.

I’ve noticed in my life that whenever something bad unfolds around you, it almost always seems to do so in the slowest of motions. What is with that?

The screech of rubber followed by a thunderous clash of steal and glass erupted behind us in a crescendo of violent noise.

I didn’t even really have time to begin to turn to figure out what had happened before I became aware of the roof of the bus shelter around us dipping down before being propelled forward in a burst of energy.

The next second splinters of glass and fragments of aluminium were flying past me at eye level as I was suddenly and unceremoniously picked up and flung towards the eighteenth century stone wall running along the edge of the pavement.

Seeing the wall close up and personal was somewhat of a surreal experience. I could see the layer of dust clinging to the rock surface, the crags and nooks of the various deformities and worn edges on the four rocks that came rushing towards my face, and then…..

Then it just went black.

Black and very, very quiet.

I’d never heard London so quiet. I could not move, but I didn’t really feel anything. It wasn’t as if I was trying to move, I just knew I couldn't.

No one else seemed to be around either. I wondered how Cody had disappeared so quickly. Mind you, come to think of it, where the hell is that wall I know I just hit?

This was weird. Not a good way to start my day.

Extract.
The Metro
The London Metropolitan Daily.

Saturday 14^th May 2011

Tragedy befell two contractors visiting the UK on working contracts to the Olympic Village in Greenwich yesterday.

Struck from behind by an out of control City of London Refuse Collection Truck the Number 28 bus, stopping to collect passengers at the Lime Grove JG bus stop, was propelled forward into the two men waiting at the bus stop.

Both men received sever injuries as a result of the collision with the bus. NHS Paramedics attended the scene along with Fire and Rescue crews and Rapid Response Critical Care Responders on motorbike.

One of the men was pronounced dead at the scene of the accident, while the other remains critically ill in St Hughes Hospital in Central London.

The men were contracted in supporting rolls to help the Olympic Construction Program due for completion ahead of schedule, and were from the United States of America and South Africa.

Their families have been informed.

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