London Digs

“Okay. I’ll come,” I replied. Before I had a chance to tell her the predicament I was in, a couple arrived to meet her to look for lodgings or ‘digs’ as they called it in London so she had to leave right away. It was at dinner we worked out the details.

Temporarily, we were staying at an old large hotel in London. We had to spend a few days there before our lodgings were sorted out. My first night was great. I had a large bedroom with four beds to myself. Early in the morning after the second night, I was awakened by strange sounds. There was a huge brutish looking bearded man prostrated on the carpet chanting words in a foreign language I could not detect.

How did he get in the room? I was most uncomfortable. Lying on my bed, I figured out he was an Arab saying his prayers. In 1962, I had only seen such characters in movies and they were invariably the bad guys.

I jumped from my bed and said, as pleasantly as I could, “Good morning, sir”. He spun round, put his hand in his robe and I thought, “Here comes the dagger.” I was just about to stick my hands in the air to indicate that I was surrendering when he withdrew an enormous chaplet - his prayer beads. In a guttural foreign accent, he told me they were from Saudi Arabia and came in when I was asleep.

“They!” I was shocked. When I enquired how many, he told me three. The other two had left the hotel already to purchase some items. I could not imagine myself spending anytime at all in that room with the three of them. Angela’s invitation to sleep in her room was a blessing in disguise, to use a time-work clich?. Night came. In my room, the three Arabians carried on talking and laughing in their language while I was trying to write a letter to my wife telling her how I was making out, how much I missed her and our son Richard - just two years and ten months at that time.

Walking stealthily down the long corridor, I came to her room, knocked on the door and it was opened. She was fully dressed and said, “Goodnight, Mr Kissoon.” It was the first time she had called me ‘mister.’ “Your bed is over there,” pointing to a bed on the opposite side. Replying “Good night,” I moved across, removed my glasses, shoes, jacket, loosened my tie, crawled into bed, said my night prayers slowly not once but several times over and over until I drifted gradually into dreamland.

I was up early. As I was about to leave the room, the cocoon-like figure bundled under blankets in the bed at the far corner, turned and said, “Good morning. I knew I could trust you. See you at the breakfast table.” Back in my room, the Arabians were busy packing their stuff as they had to catch a train at King’s Cross. Needless to say, I was happy to see them leave. The whole room was mine once more.

While I was having breakfast, I received a telephone call from the British Council that my room at their hostel at 35, Queen’s Gardens, Bayswater was available and I could move in at anytime.When I told Angela I was leaving the hotel, she echoed her previous words, “I’, scared to death to sleep by myself.” Just then a coach dropped off several Commonwealth students in the lobby. We went to check them out and luckily she knew one of the two Trinidadian girls. We got them to check into her room for a few nights.

The men’s hostel at Queen’s Gardens was ideal. This was my home for ten more months. In my second floor room, I had a big bed, bookshelf, desk, reading lamp, dressing table, clothes cupboard and most important a coinless heater.

Everyday showering, shaving and washroom activities could take close to thirty minutes. You had to switch off the bathtub tap, attach a hose and use the nozzle which you had to hold in one hand while using the other hand to do the necessities.

Most of the students never bothered at all but being a creature of habit I had to go through the daily ceremony. One morning, I was a bit late and I did the cowboy bit that affected me psychologically for the entire day. I just wasn’t myself.

Freddie Ogundeepe is one Nigerian guy I have never forgotten for three main reasons. Obviously, we have the same first name. Secondly, his father told him when he was leaving home, “When you return, bring back a white woman with blond hair.”

And thirdly, Ogundeepe said, “The only thing I know about Trinidad is the Mighty Sparrow is from there. You must tell him for me that I have all his records and Nigeria loves him.”

Have you heard this one? Two lawyers who were opposing each other at an election met in an office. One said, “Did you tell John at the barbershop that I was a good for nothing rotten thief ?” “No, replied the other, “I don’t know how he found out.”