WF4.1. The Day The Market(s) Stood Still…

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WarFair4.com: episode one

WF4.1. WarFair4: The Day the Market(s) stood still…

Into The Abyss…

Global-Citizen.

M.Stow Copyright © 2017 M.Stow

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ISBN 13: 9798642469835 Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

WarFair4:1.1. The Day the-Markets Collided.

Warfair4.2. Into The Abyss…

Warfair4.3. Crash! Global Pandemic…

WarFair4.4. Global-Citizen.

M.Stow

  1. She
  2. They
  3. He
  4. The Banker and the Clerk
  5. The Accident & Emergency Hospital Hotel
  6. Home Factory and Shop
  7. Titanic!
  8. Avatar
  9. Cannon-Fodder
  10. Rent
  11. Slaughter
  12. Brute Justice
  13. WarFair4.com
  14. Global-Citizen.com

Tunisia 17th December 2010: According to friends and family, local police officers had allegedly targeted and mistreated Bouazizi for years, including during his childhood, regularly confiscating his small wheelbarrow of produce; but Bouazizi had no other way to make a living, so He continued to work as a street vendor. Around10 p.m.on 16 December 2010, He had contracted approximately 450 dinarin debt to buy the produce He was to sell the following day. On the morning of 17 December, He started his workday at 8 a.m. Just after10:30 a.m., the police began harassing him again, ostensibly because He did not have a vendor’s permit.

Bouazizi did not have the funds to bribe police officials to allow his street vending to continue. Bouazizi, angered by the confrontation, went to the governor’s office to complain and to ask for his scales back. The governor refused to see or listen to him. Bouazizi then acquired a can of gasoline from a nearby gas station and returned to the governor’s office. While standing in the middle of traffic, he shouted, “How do you expect me to make a living?” He then doused himself with the gasoline and set himself alight with a match at11:30 a.m.local time, less than an hour after the altercation.

It has been said that love of money is the root of (many) evil(s) and a wandering from the path which has brought-upon us much pain. The lack (need) of money is so quite as truly.

Samuel Butler (1835-1902 ME) EREWHON Ch. 20 (amended after: The Old Testament: 1Timothy, and before Mark Twain (Mark Twain’s Notebook 1909 ME).

If the man and the woman bear their fair share of work, they have a right to their fair share of all that is produced by all, and that share is enough to secure them well-being. What we proclaim is The Right to Well-Being: Well-Being for All! Pyotr Kropotkin (1842 – 1921) The Conquest of Bread; Mutual Aid: A Factor of Evolution.

The ideological and social system of capitalism has also (Feudalism) become a museum piece (in the Soviet Union), while in other countries, it resembles ‘a dying person who is sinking fast, like the sun setting beyond the western hills’ and will soon be relegated to the museum. Mao Tse Tung On New Democracy 1940.

There’s an evenin’ haze settling over town,

Starlight by the edge of the creek,

The buyin’ power of the proletariats’ gone down,

Money’s getting’ shallow and weak.

Well, the place I love best is a sweet memory,

It’s a new path that we trod,

They say low wages are a reality,

If you want to compete abroad.

My cruel weapons been laid back on the shelf,
Come and sit down on my knee,
You are dearer to me than myself,
As you yourself can see,
I’m listening to the steel rails hum,
Got both eyes tight shut,
I’m just trying to keep the hunger from,
Creepin’ its way into my gut.

Meet me at the bottom, don’t lag behind,
Bring me my boots and shoes,
You can hang back or fight your best on the front line,
Sing a little bit of these workingman’s blues.

Bob Dylan Workingmans Blues #2 from Modern Times 2006

The-Train moved slowly out from the glass and steel raised slab of the new edge-of-Town main-line high-speed railway-platform, running alongside the banking blank back of high-street shops, and the station car-park, awaiting return. Into harvested-fields and open-grazed pastures below remaining precipitous pine-forest.

Alongside planted-poplar windbreak, shielded. Through the trees, the new days’ Sun appeared, speared, blinking-awake. Burst through the carriage breaking beyond the blue grey staged and staggered, rolled and ranged. From the east-peaked, settling yellow-orange onto the western-hills. Shadow-flanking purple-green valleys, and up-country the grid-framed farmed plains, where the day was already begun.

Grey white steam lifted across a drying-up estuary.

In thinrain spluttering, over an elevated iron-riveted painted girder-bridge, built-on pillars of a deep-red local stone and brickwork, arched and breached. With the Suns’-rays the train rattled-on.

Emergent, as through a fog over a beached river, onto the other-side of a ravenous gaping-gorge. Over-spilling through the outskirts of a recently built-up ancient sea-harbour and river port, suburban edge-of-Town. High-rise housing-project, and Industrial-Units, Business-Park, and Shopping-Mall.

Home-furniture, Motor-Car showrooms. Salesrooms, cheap-hotel and motel. Linked razor-wire fenced, chained-in. A horse-paddock, gated and padlocked, adjacent to a blue-green to red-waiting train-crossing signal. Freight-Train, privileged-over passenger passaged prerogative, thundering-by: the Passenger Train: trundling along for now, beside a chequered black and yellow train-crossing.

Arterial hot tar-road weighted heavy and ever busy with ‘bus and coach, cycle and motor cycle. Car engine and Caravan-trailer. Articulated. Juggernaut, boxed container shipments on-board. Onto and beneath the over-passing concrete-highway into, and out of Town.

All traffic travelling with one accord.

To-and-from galvanized corrugated iron steel and zinc tin roved roofing, between brick and-cinderblock doorways, loading and unloading bays beneath open canopy entrances, letter and number laser bar-coded, and secured. Air-extracting, for the most-part to the outside world, unseen. As windowless, between belching cooling-tower, pylon-linking electric-welding workshop engineering factory-crafted, machined and handmade goods.

Food and Furniture, packaged, warehoused, and shipped virtually to-and-from the City-Ports and Portals. Co-modifying, in-return Stock-Yards stacked-up, and in-exchange value-assured, awaiting, transport: to-and-from: Home and Away.

  1. She. 

‘It is like living in a rabbit hutch’ She often said metaphorically, and He replied with a shrug. Nothing to say in reply. It was; and it would take long enough to pay for. Eight-floors up. Looking over the street below, now starting to become busy with traffic.

They had lived with his parents for a time, and then after they were married in a small rented flat in The City, before they needed to afford somewhere to live together, and to bring-up their two small children. They had both saved, and with some financial help from a relative (deceased) they had managed to get this place. When the housing market was ‘buoyant’, and mortgages easy to get. The home was bought with a loan, a promissory note, deposited and co-lateraled together with the home itself. They were afloat.

Both worked to pay-off the loan, which although it was supposed to reduce each year did not seem ever to keep up with pay and prices. The loan would anyway be paid-off many times over if they were ever to pay off the debt. If this place was ever to become their own. If they managed to keep paying-off the loan for the ‘Shelter from the Storm’, as they called Home. That they did not actuarily now own, and may not ever, actually own, lose-lose. To sell-back at Market Price, the difference between the paid-back buying-price and selling-price, of which they would have lost completely to The Bank…The Mortgage Company.

Their home-insurance, their pension against homelessness. No social-recourse. and be homeless to parents and over-crowding again, or with friends similarly fixed, sofa surfing. Their home, such as it was re-possessed. A two-bedroom apartment, she thought of: kitchen-lounge, shower-bathroom toilet and tiny balcony onto the world below, between them and the sky above.

Each day, each month, and each successive year into the unthinkable future; two-thirds of two-lifetimes at least, two-thirds every month of what they were both paid. She did the household accounts, and she knew. The Home, The Loan would have been paid for several times over by the time if ever it became theirs’ and The Childrens’ and perhaps even their Grandchildrens’; by the time the shared building was uninhabitable, demolished land rented freehold…leasehold…but that is the nature of the human animal, is it not? To do over, and be done over to again and again? she thought: want more and more, for less and less? and in the quiet mind wandering moment of pillared door, a room, a table, a bed let go and a bed sheet left behind, ready to be buried with perhaps, as they did in the olden times, shrouded as now by thin curtains pulled-back.

Each-Day: like a backwards step, worked to pay off the loan on the house and to pay for food and bills and extras, clothes, and nights out, occasionally. Maybe once a month, or not at all. Then He had been laid-off work at The Bakery. Three-day-week, and three days wages.

The Mortgage was re-negotiated, and they continued struggling to pay-off the loan and other loans, credited and direct-debited from what they both earned together.

There was never an issue of who would earn more, and be the main breadwinner; and who would do the most caring, of each other, and the children: the unpaid responsibilities shared around the home and in the world of work, shopping and holidays and other friends and family out there.

All in-debted, in credit. They were equal, without even having to think about it or confront societies and others’ false fake expectations of gender and families. They were equal in debt and credit, and supported each other’s frail and fragile egos with a natural equanimity. Respectful, and loving, each contributing their best and differently in-differently, to make the whole: It’s not all doom and gloom she did often think, and he tried not to think on it. The homely claustrophobia only had to be relieved by going out. To the cinema, to a bar or restaurant. But that was not very often. Definitely, now there were children as well. Seldom did extras make their mark, clothes bought carefully a piece at a time replacement rather than extravagance. The cupboards filled with groceries and emptied by the time the next weeks shopping is needed, and the next weeks earnings spent…

She was awake, first this morning, and she got up from the bed on which he still lay awake but not yet awake enough to leave its’ nigh-time warmth. She went through to the next room. The bedroom led across the narrow-passage to the living room, which led directly to the tiny gallery kitchen and balcony on one side, and door to the front room on the other. Except it wasn’t the Front-Room exactly only like the ‘front-room’ of her childhood playing on the street and door directly to the rugged ragged matted smell of cooking from the stone wall white-washed country kitchen. Upstairs two bedrooms, one on the gallery landing for the children, and a closet room to flush away with a basin of water from the kitchen sink into the slurry sump, where you could hear it ‘slurry’ all the way down; and, then back down to replace water, from the kitchen or outside tap. Pumped up from the well, re-filling the fired china clay bowl for washing and zinc-metal bucket, ready for the next use.

At bedtime children first, then the adults. Rats nested runs, beetles and cockroaches were kept away by the domesticated cats and dogs that shared the yard and house; with horses at the local stables, to ride at week-ends, and Holy Days. Each week, several times into the market town for food supplies, and the children’s treats.

Their whole world a Living Market Place, of Work and Play. Now, great enclosed parkland parked Lakesides’ Superstores and Supermarkets and Factory outlet Warehouse. Where goods are now transported she thought of: to and from and by foot and hand and motor vehicle, train and massive tanker and containership flight. From the docks and airport, at the City Harbour hub humming thrumming away, remote yet directing everyday life, everywhere. Passenger and cargo, goods and stocks.

The affordable flight, to get away from it all: a change; a necessary move, once in a while, not every year but to visit family here and there and elsewhere, or else you’d go stir-crazy. Do a night-time flit, leave the rent, the mortgage, unpaid. Only, to otherwise keep on fighting, for the bargain: cheap-est within budget, to get through to the next day and the day after that. When debts and fines could not be paid, the debt collector. Bailiffs, The-Auctioneer: selling- off of the personal possessions, and then sold-out: the personal and public.

The laptop computer on sleep, and awakened, opened, placed on the table, booted-up and she blogged instantaneously her thoughts: We all need a roof over our heads…and to: put Food on the Table! without any other word, or contextual continuity that did not remain obvious to this early morning. Everyone, and anyone in the same and similar circumstances getting the same hastily tapped-out message; excluding those without tablet, home or food; and those with patently far too much, who had admin. to do that for them.

And her thought continued in the context of the mindful moment and that which we all have to pay extortionately for over and again even when the food is eaten and the crap washed away there remains a nasty stain, a nasty taste. The original wages sweated over day upon day, and the loans ever in negative equity! Double-Debt? More? To who? Them! Extortionate interest and volatile prices, and not pay…looking up, and down again now, not in dejection, but circumspection against ever apparent possible failure, with desperate optimism, toward unrealistic perfectionism.

Only mechanized traffic building-up soon into a busy rush-hour congestion. Cars and buses, bicycles, motorbike and motorized delivery truck from here, only another view. From two-sides; and every side… the bedrooms along the passage corridor, the sleeping children slept. Earlier peeked into soundless in beautiful dream or dreamless seeming startling worrying death-checked for breathing. Crossing from night into daytime TV, remotely automatically turned on, confirmation, that life goes on. The living-room, as she entered, bore all the chatter and the silence of one who listens. Still and safe, cosy and secure. The other rooms took over the emotions and needs: sleep and food, love and arguments.

The central room, the central chamber, looked on and awaited eventual, almost inevitable, but never certain re-conciliation, and rest. Indulged-in: Social, Family and Neighbourhood Events (SFNEs), noisy chatter and quiet evenings indoors.

The furniture was adequate and filled the room. Table, chairs, television, a drawer and shelved cabinet standing against a wall, displaying various icons. Family photographs in frames, a portrait of a film star, or a print of a famous oil painting. Ornaments, statuettes, figures of worship and of novelty. The furniture, the infrastructure, from the livelihoods, and eventually the roof over our heads in over our heads heard as if originally spoken. There were unopened envelopes and cajoling leaflet advertisement: Kill your debts! Die debts! she thought of letters and bills for payment, propped up behind a ticking clock.

There was a picture postcard from someone-else’s holiday forming a picturesque frontage to hide the stack of demands for reply and payment which lay beyond. She drew back the curtains and looked out of the window across the balcony, with its unflowering plants growing in flower-pots.

There was a real still rising mistiness outside from the early morning warming; and she gazed over an area where many lived, and it seemed to her, this morning, where they too just lived out their lives: day to day, week to week. 

That, they too thought to themselves as she looked-out onto the dawn of a gradually opening new day that the world must have always been this way.

  1. They. 

They had stayed together and with two little ones, one of each, girl and boy by the time they’re both about to be in school, they could not risk another to bring up, and the cost of it. They only hoped they would hold on to their jobs and worked hard. Difficult hours, and some days-off. Where the rota’s didn’t work-out for childcare, family or neighbours, parents now friends of the children’s friends who lived conveniently nearby, the social-network, from the cradle to school to work to the grave…death, the unknown…

They had met when things were starting to get a bit tight, to get difficult again. Meaning, the situation for most working families, those at the upper rather than lower reaches; for those looking for work and those in work, things had not got any better, any easier really, during the so-called good-times, and both parents were needed in credit- and-debt. To work to keep the family going, Voluntary Social Networks (VSNs) became all the more significant and reciprocal. Shared-Care and Circles of Support. With child and adult interaction social and meaningful. Shared-Lives.

They had both kept their jobs in more or less ‘essential services’, although not without the job-cuts, never-the-less, ever the less, never the more, when things got difficult all a-round. 

When the Bakery Factory where He and his Family worked, went on three-days week, and pay to match He had more time to be with the children, and helped the same with her awkward shiftwork at the garment factory, and later She at the hospital, for the Children.

Then training there, working there. 

He had done some building work on the odd-days, to fill-in. She had done some shop-work and garment-making before all the Shop-Jobs in ‘Retail’ were filled, and not-hiring. Not selling either. Queues at the cash-tills. To no-one at the field tills, filed for bankruptcy. They had moved to his folks in The City then: suburbs really, inner-urban, something-like-that.

His mother had worked at The Old Mill and got her a job there; and then him at The Bakers’ Factory, at the top of the road. When and where, the area they had moved to. With Family and friendly neighbours nearby there: People, their…people…

They had moved in together; and had kids. His father’s family had been transient transitory migrant millers, wheat and grain, before that, gypsies, owned business machinery, finding digging the wells, water, oil from the oil swamp, concrete and gas brick building and tarmac road, growing taking fruits and nuts from the side of vegetable and allotment gardens.

Did well.

Moving around farm to farm, funnily enough she thought like Business People nowadays do…looking across the roads, below, leading to The City. To: The Airport to visit: 

Sales-People: to the Re-tail Outlets

Shops in the World: in other words: Big Business. Commuting by-aeroplane, as they might, if they could afford to: go on Holiday. Abroad. They, Business to meet Clients Meetings’ here and there and everywhere.

Cities all over, to do deals on a massive Global-Scale then worth millions, now worth billions and trillions of whatever the currency.

Sometimes-dealing, evenly, un-evenly, unbalanced, in the local and World currencies themselves.

Her family took on a Shop, Family-Bank loan to rent and stock and share. In the past when the work dried-up, landfill, polluted wells and rivers and seas and Oceans flooded. 

His’ family ‘moved along’ as they were constantly told to do…

Or, stayed with their stores, shares of the crops of the fields, and water, natural and free from the clean water-well. Waited, looked- for more or different labour… 

She thought of them, her own family, and His. Out of work, they always found something. Fed themselves from gardens and small and large fields and farmyards. When the work was finished, they moved on. When The Great-Corporate moved-in, took over, sold-off. Along the roads and waterways, they, her family, had a farm in the countryside for a while, and the parents, lived there.

His-&-Hers … 

Hers&His …

Through an Industrial now Techno-Future:

The Soul of The City. Only, tumultuous-Towns and vicious-Villages. 

Across the River, across the tram tracks, and railway, by the station.

The Heart of the CityThe Financial-Quarter. Settling-in. The-City. Walled and Castellated.

Transport and Trade-hub and thronged and His parents self-employed, their own bosses; contractors, worked out on the Building Sites of Towering Sky-Scrapers lining The River, and lit-up, from the Sun. Her-Family. Employed, not their own boss. Both, as themselves, on some land, renting, from they each pay. Then they He and She eventually, both working and afforded buying: Home-Owners, now. Investors in their own future, and their children’s children and theirs’ owned in return.

Like the Home-property itself, capable of being, and being owned, and dis-owned.

And, not strictly-speaking owned, anyway.

But for the Mortgage Home Owners Corporations and Companies, and now, The-Bank(s). Building and Maintenance Trades. Education and Good-Health. Taxied to meetings and desks.

HomeWork and Out-working: the Home-Owners and Private and Publicly Rented-Sector: Housing-Association(s) and: Gig: Market-Economy: 1%. To: 9%. To: 99%…

Ambulance driver and second Medic. employed advertising tax-paying costs and prices up and down, depending on what side of the Power-Play had been Won. Every second milli-second playing in relation to each other…

Soon the television was blaring as usual in the morning. In the main room that was empty again for the moment, and beyond where she was now dressing hurriedly, and he was brushing his hair frantically.

There was the noise of children getting washed and dressed, with incessant commentary and conversation to each other, and any other, or just to themselves. To each other a one-way argument. Older to younger incited over some triviality, shouted back in frustration.

At that point the only-game-in-town, and to be fought-out until one of them is crying, and the other shouting-the-odds; before calm-is-brought. 

Evens by one or other parent, supervising, managing, supposedly, to each-other, at least while they all got ready for work, school and pre-school nursery. The sound of the kettle screaming on the kitchen cooker; and television advertisements conveying to deaf ears, and blind eyes, but perhaps receptive memory:

‘The Best in the World!’; Or:

Longer-lasting…’; or whatever the dubious selling-point co-pied perhaps to be un-consciously re-called later that day, at the Super-Hyper-Market market.

At present they seemed to be of no avail, both rushed to get the children to school, and themselves out to work. To earn the pay that would pay the prices at the Super-Hyper-Market: later-that-day as yet un-known:

‘Where is my shirt?’

he called:

‘Where you last put it!’ she retorted.

As She entered the living room She found her shoes under a chair and stopped in front of the television. The networked advertisements ended and the programme returned to the main story of the day:

‘Today there is no money to pay share dividends, or to buy shares with…’

She flicked a channel and got:

‘Group and Individual Share Prices have collapsed or become so high that they have

become worthless: confidence has collapsed, debt un-diminished: price increases have

been blamed. Increases in pay and pensions have been blamed.

Increases in Business-Bank Personal-Investment interest-rates and maximizing profit-

levels at any cost have been blamed. Each of these has pushed Shop and Share prices

 ever upwards as share prices and shop prices overtake the customers’ ability to pay,

and the ability to pay pushes prices-up.’

‘And pay-down, in RE-al terms!!!      ’

‘Relatively?’

‘Not: pay-up? Relatively?’

‘Prices down?’

‘Never.’

Work for family o=r friends, work, for yourself, first.

Then, family and friends and everyone else with their, our, USP’s….margins’ agreed in advance…

‘Future-Costs:…’

‘The-Future?’

‘ToDay>’

<>Profit margins narrowed > Hu-Man Date. > nn/nn/nnn…

>Re-captured only by increases in:

<Prices or decreases in pay relative to GDP (Gross Domestic Product):

‘As B4: Interest rates on banking and other loans, have pushed share prices up even further…’ and a view passed across the screen to locked Factory-Gates and closed down Hospital  corridor(s)…

Ports and Sea and Land-Borders: closed to traffic or trade. It did not seem too bad, or even unusual: the Television Experts and announcers liked to make a big-deal out-of-anything…

She thought: it was their-jobs’ after all.  

The pictures shifted to City Offices’ steeled glass to the very Sky.

Buildings that only a few were being allowed into; and then to the squares and circus’s around Town and City Centres all over the globe, all the streets and roads and highways leading there.

The TV re-porter turned-away from-the-camera, and let-the-scene, somewhere else: could be anywhere-else, speak for itself.

In the kitchen radio reports followed from each National and Regional Securities around the world:

‘Tokyo Nikkei Shanghai Shenzhen Hang Seng Bangkok: Singapore: Dubai-Delhi:’

‘Bombay: Bermuda-Dutch Saudi-UAE: Israel and Egyptian Stock Exchanges… ‘

‘RTS Moscow and St. Petersburg.’

‘Frankfurt Johannesburg and Cape Town.’

‘London and Canada Stock Exchanges: New York Wall Street and Rio de Janeiro…’

‘T&T Iran-Dubai:…’

‘All:Trading-Port(s) for Oil&Money: Athe(x)ns. Bo(l)®sa Buenos Aires to Lima…’

‘Nairobi and Nigerian and Sydney Stock-Exchanges…’ as she went to look for tea-bags.

He got the cups out and put some bread under the grill to toast. As the cups were emptied and the door was opened to go out, The Stock-Market Reports, were interrupted by the radio-announcer:

‘We have heard in the last few minutes that The International Conference of Governments and World Banks with National Stock-Market and Corporate Regional Securities around the world are meeting in Geneva are Conference-calling and are to make statements, at midday mean-time.’

‘In the current state of financial affairs across the globe, the ‘Economic-Crisis’ around the world…’

They stopped and looked at each other as they heard the announcement:

‘What will they come up with this time I wonder?

She asked aloud to him and to the radio speaker and as she went to the bathroom door:

‘Come on you two!’ to the children, and to him in the same breath:

‘What time are you finishing today?’

‘On Lates!’ his reply with a shrug, noticed, as She said:

‘I’ll have to clock off early then,’ and she thought another opportunity to sack me, but if school finishes before work what are we supposed to do?

‘I’m taking them in, anyway!’ he called.

‘I know!’, she replied:

‘We will have to go to the Super-Hyper Market tonight!’

They both said:

‘The Local for Bread-&Milk!’ they both said:

Added knowingly: reluctant necessity when it came to it:

‘Or tomorrow anyway.’ as she kissed him on the lips, quickly, tantalizingly, knowingly this weekly and mostly  daily shopping trip is what they did all this for along with the mortgage-rent and love-of-their-family and children smiling he went out of the door, onto the communal hallway:

‘Another financial crisis!’ he called out, with more than a note of sarcasm, which did not need any reply, other than a disinterested:

‘Is there?’

She went back inside the living room, and went to turn the television off, as the announcement of an impending declaration from Government-Leaders and World-Banks were being repeated:

‘Won’t make any difference!’

She shouted over the noise of the television:

‘…never does!’

She left the house soon afterwards.

  1. He.

He took the stairs with the children, two-at-a-time one in a pushchair, the other just learning to walk, and they headed off together for The Corner Shop. Turning at the top of the road, pushing the baby buggy uphill, the as if unmade pavement now, in disrepair, showing the lack of maintenance through the good times, as well as the now financial recession, austere-times. Telling The Walker (as He and She said to each other in jest the children laughed at that…) but the one no longer holding on to the buggy called-out to:

‘Hold on to the buggy’ answering the constant questions:

‘What is this?’, and:

‘What is that?’ and having to say:

‘Be careful!’ every second, and:

‘Stop! making me have to say:

‘Be Careful’ every second!’’ and they giggling together, at what, he knew not what.

Not even imagining a time when he and she would not be going to work and they to nursery and school and work…

Then keeping them into: Our-Dotage: 

Going-to pick-up the-fallen walking running-off child, grabbing the perambulator again, and continued walking on at the road:

‘Do Not Walk!’

The walking child hearing only the last word of the phrases spoken, as-usual:

‘Do Not Run! Walk!’; and wondering what all the shouting was about, and running:

‘Stop! at the edge!’ hearing all the words this time: thoughtfully:

‘O.K?’

‘O.K.!’ twice awkwardly almost:

trying out these new words heard from them and at school:

‘Stop!’ and stopping in the middle of the pedestrian pavement.

To get collided into and rolling on the ground giggling in the middle of the pavement road edge? getting up and running off laughing, looking backwards:

‘STOP!’

at the corner, turning into the next junction:

‘Stop! At The Kerb!’

He catching up, pushing the pushchair ahead, the walker hanging on, over the kerb and into the road. Looking both ways, always and then both ways again. Then back again, one last way this time: too quickly…going to Run! the way the traffic was headed, moving slowly one car at a time, stopped: and a polite hand to let them across, to a wave re-turned…

Watching-out, for all three; and to the oncoming traffic split by traffic lights commanding: Stop, Start, or Pause…to the other side safety to the other kerb:

‘Walk!’

‘Do Not Run!’ both yelled equally as in-comprehendingly:

Children chasing on ahead to The Corner Shop. The ‘little-one’ in the buggy trying-to get-out to-follow, shouting, and pointing with one, then both index-fingers, toward The-Road:

‘Taxi!’

swivelling around almost falling-out caught…

Pointing, ahead:

‘’Bus!’ the other returning, giggling:

‘A. Bus!’ correcting, and then at they passed a-Shop pleading verbally and non-verbally tugging and whining for sugary sweets:

‘Helicopter!’ singing, and pointing and swiveling around again:

‘The-Corner-Shop!’ the other:

‘Sweets!’ categorically usually not until they came home from school and nursery.

Even then only some days and if they had been good at school or nursery. But always worth a try…. pointing jumping up-and-down, on the buggy the other falling out, buckles un-buckled, by the Older-One:

‘As long as you be-have yourselves today, and they’re not too bad for your teeth, and you-clean-your-teeth!’ they knew that, giggling all the more, at some reference only they knew.

To the words, the noises, and the tone of voice, the bedtime:

‘Clean your teeth! Properly!!’ the Older-One repeated, and they went into more fits of giggles.

Into the newsagent-come-grocers and confectionary local-shop, and sometime licensed off-licence. Where He, and She, and They stopped each morning, for bread, or a newspaper.

On the way to Nursery and School, when it was His turn, always the possibility of both mythical and real: sweets, as well.

As they crashed through the door the older one getting deliberately, or so it seemed in the way of the baby-buggy, asserting rights over the other smaller and weaker and re-leased both leaning up at the shop counter not unusually, but always predictably in the morning rush with so many other things to think about the only thought, unable to think about anything else: 

Children, Shopping tonight? Newspaper? Sweets?

The buggy almost tipped-over, again, in the raucous, the older one falling over the younger, strapped in, strained at the straps, snapping painfully back.

Letting out an ear-piercing yell.

The Older-One: still giggling, until the younger lashed-out as only younger siblings know how-to and the older one let out a Yell! then a Scream! apparently exaggerated explication of pain from both now and claims of unfairness idiot! etc. 

‘Come-on you’re the Older One, you should know better! Do you have to have to fight and argue over everything all the Time?! No sweets!’ and then he knew, as soon as He said that that he was A-Beaten-Man Conquered by Children, easily…

A yet-louder exclamation set up. While the-younger looking on in glee, quieted and puzzled, twisted turned looking:

Upwards to The Father; for some resolution to the questioning-plea and fell-out of the buggy, unbuckled:

‘Me a’ well?’

Looking up from the floor, the older standing and going to stamp on the younger, smiling sweetly now, the other sprawled on the floor as if felled:

‘Smiling Assassins!’

He called-out from the front of the shop, in reference to the older child, and to The Shopkeeper who was stacking shelves from remaining stock.

He, holding-up the regular National Newspaper, the Shopkeeper called forward-first:

‘Dumb. The Markets…’

‘Computers’ Blind-Assassin(s):’ looking at the newspaper on the counter-pane:

‘Botched Act-of-Terror!’

‘State-sponsored!’

‘I know. Heard. You may as well keep that…’

to the loose change being handed over the counter:

‘…it will be like one of those Free-Ones!’

Hearing, and not listened-to until later, scanning the headline:

WORLD MARKETS IN TURMOIL!

the money left on the shop-counter chuckling when the remark realised:

‘No, I got it!’ minding

The-Children who were not fighting but pretending to steal, sweets, not knowing any better yet, knowing better; laughing, and looking-obvious. The Shopkeeper paper-bagged and handed-over some of what it was they-wanted, pointed at with shrill voices still:

‘There you are, for later…your Dads’ change!’ the customary sweets, as a gift now in-change sometimes anyway for a small-note passed across the counter.

From the-Shopkeeper to them and then him:

Daddy keep sweets…for later.’

The Children looking pleased, and anxious also, that they too might have to ‘keep it for later’ with only the then-conditional on-whom they could not possibly know-yet:

‘And only if you are Good today!’

the emotional and ethical merged into puzzlement:

Free-sweets given to the Father patiently waiting to get off to nursery, school, and work.

Again consternation, put-on, by the Older-Child, to the younger-pouting dropped lower-lip acting-out, pretending, face pulling puzzled-at and copied-by the younger both suddenly laughing at this, and between themselves, at something they did not really know what it was to be Good or All-Day, or how, or what it was, to attain this.

  1. The Banker and The Clerk.

The investment merchant-Banker sat-back, and glanced across at he administrative accounts’-Clerk, sat in the opposite seat, fixed-table between. Travelling on this same-train same-time, same-carriage. For the-Clerk the same-seat, if that or any other was to be had amongst the everyday commuters seated and a few standings, today usually crammed-in each weekday, early-morning into The City.

For the-Banker, this day too-early for the usual-reservation. With, or today without railway-waiter served breakfast or a free-morning newspaper only those freely given-away and piled-up in the station forecourt to be taken-away.

That had to be paid-for anyway by publicising the latest up-priced model, named lettered and numbered version; and most reasonably-priced like copies of The Big Issue sold-on by Homeless-people in Metropolis’ around the world: no such thing as a free-lunch the-Banker reasoned.

First-Class: The Financial-Newspaper paid-for anyway by The Railway Company:

Public-Private

Infra-Structure: ticket-seated and breakfasted comfortably with:

The-Financial Newspaper at massively discounted market-rate or cost-price freely as-advertising encouraging in-someway paid-for, and for: returns

The Newspaper could be easily afforded, anyway. Today’s loss-leader, tomorrow’s winner paid-for upfront from the station kiosk, day upon day.

The Newspapers Corporate-Investment: at-least knowingly borrowed on Perma-Credit: staff-costs paid-off and on continuing steady-sales to be recouped; shorted, daily, and long-term investment…achieved…

Today, the newspaper not given-away with the extortionately, and exclusively permissive over-priced pass this day into the City’ Stock-Exchanges and Financial-Markets.

Staff-costs and paper and inks, colour print magazine as affecting the World. The Annual First-Class Executive rail-ticket paid-for, whether used or-not.

This day the first train out and apparently only Standard-Class, available. A single First-Class carriage was filled-up quickly by anyone who had a ticket and conceivably some who did–not: there were no-tickets being checked or paid-for apparently the barriers left-open and inviting all-comers. For the-Banker, for another-time that morning, something mildly now-seconded, and markedly unusual.

The earlier, when the radio alarm-clock had switched-on routinely with the early-morning fishing, farming, road, and rail conditions. Airline and shipping delays, arrivals, and departures, and speculative forecasts: weather-reports from around the world, local, and global, political-economic and media-news: with the previous-nights’ closing market-prices from around The World: there had been developments overnight, that needed attending-to.

From the emptying platform, the-Banker and the-Clerk boarded the train together more or less equal. The-Clerk with: Free advertising Newspaper and headphones, plugged-in to a mobile Media-Centre. The-Banker with a bought-copy of The Financial-Newspaper from the trains’ limited half-empty double-decker, easy costly food and drinks, re-freshments trolley.

Having taken the first seat-available in the nearest Standard-Class compartment coupled with a foul-stench reeking drain-leaking latrine literally retching between the brown and grey-green patterned seats along the narrow aisle way, the-Banker waving the newspaper ahead as if to clear-the-air un-wavering when shunted across by the next-passenger inline to the only vacant window-seat glanced across-to and sedentarily leaned-forward across the table between them and asked of the-Clerk, already sat down-opposite:

‘So, what do you make of it all, then?’ in the customary easy clear voice of one born with the interrogative confidence of swift appraisal. As in-stantly as if mysteriously-accusatory as if with some felt need for validation, valediction, justification, testimony, guilt? Even before any evidential fact, or fiction? 

With a self and other-deceiving finality, justifying with instant-conviction…but of who? By whom? 

Despite the original opening-question, it seemed as if with no real right-of-reply. The initial conversational-question asked as if intended not to be replied-to or any other-mindedly mitigating circumstances, or any-answer-at all, particularly, or generally, listened-to.

Or so the younger-Clerk surprised to be spoken-to then considered: perhaps like a nurture-nature kind of thing? Possibly a-Plebeian enquiry?Selected–standard flagged with no-probation the-Clerk decided: more likely a command, to make something of IT and to-be-taken-notice-of.

Notice-given of anyway disregarding of the possibly-paranoid maniacal rhetorical-answer awaited, or not, by either, or Both, regardless of the-Other: The subtler-Inquisitor? The Quicker to–the–Draw?

The original-recipient by-assumption looking-up first from a streaming mobile smart-phone camera and video-games-console: USB-4slot-machine…game:WarFair4 downloading…PER (personal electronic reader)/de-pocketed-information-recorded singularly removing the ear-phone microphone-socketed-lead off-line searching for the source of the mildly–irritating openly questive-words’ spoken as directly-to, or so it seemed to the-Clerk, in almost immediate reply:

‘I Don’t know what to make of what, yet?’

Then:

‘Senseless.’

As to The-Banker as to The Newspaper headline shaken-out the whole carriage could now view. The-Banker sat-back purposefully, purportedly, and provocatively, to-unfold The Financial-Newspaper with the headline outermost, upper-most:

WORLD MARKETS IN TURMOIL! and seen again that photograph taking up the whole of the rest of the grey-top printed front-page remaindered, pictured in the minds’ eye.

Now, turned inside-out and with a staring squeezed blink of the eyes, fumbled as if in a freak- storm: a blown umbrella, quickly folded-away. To the-Clerk: hung-out to dry: having seen earlier the front-page photograph, and one-liner top headed:

WORLD MARKETS IN TURMOIL! re-conceived on-line connected…down-loaded and updating second to second milli-second, minute-to-minute mobile-version uploading freely…with-advertising: optional:

Free view annual-subscription: choice or fee skipping…

The-Clerk looking-down and into the same recently concealed picture, and slowly re-storing from browsing-history, as accurately acutely-historically as-depicted. As veritably verifiably un-faked faked up-dated un-tampered-with: mobile cell-phone-photographed syndicated and World-Wide-Web: networked-scene: as at the end of the previous day: the-City: stocks and bonds’ markets as then as now: seen news-printed and pictured from the evening(s) before: a litter-strewn like old ticker-tape across:

The Trading-Room Floor (TRF) for-saken and an un-forgiving-blankly waiting-screen strap-line banded: Markets Closed. Markets Closed. Markets Closed…the single-slogan as about to go up or down was not possible to tell diagonally from one corner of the screen to the other perhaps tangentially-to slip-backwards flickering erratically across continuously stuttering…across perhaps, another:

Markets Closed.

Only-slightly burred blurring from the-top aloft above, or below, the perfect: the-normal midway ideally-positioned not at the-extreme outer-fielded or even ever truly evenly-centred: but as inside-out and now, as stilled.

As then, as now: as if no-longer existent as of now, and then, no-longer anymore unchanging exchange ever more exchanged until stopped perfectly still in its tracks, nowhere at all.

Except: now, there: only as stop-framed time-up: bleeped…pinged…

Cinematographically stilled, to be recorded, and repeated any movement as any-moment only impendent…in the-cloud…that bold-bland statement flickering nonetheless-memorific ally fuzzily held in-abeyance:

Markets Closed.

shimmering-pixelated grid-table mapping diagrammatic…a flickering

A coming-together.

As a vertiginous horizontally remote-geometrically geo-graphically sited as a new dawn held rising over the Worlds-Edges:

Cityscape-skylinediverting

>Banking-details…scams threateningly un-throated, of un-declared bribery and corruption and fraud on-consultancy and management-only contracts hostaged: hi-jacking pay-debt: ransoming-deals projected unfounded optimism, pessimistically keeping quiet: the-private/public purse: tax-dodging as if this would be enough to boost-real confidence on-fixed and unfixed violin-fiddling burning-figures re-vealed:

> Weaknesses:…

<Strengths:…

sub-titling screen-fantasy theme: distinctive emblematic-corporate-creations: dis-owning any real-identity or real-personality patched-together buffer-zone: video-text typeset: cast-role freely-played-ambiguously between Good and Cruel-Evil. Between:continuing:

‘O.K.?’ and not too-bad:

‘One -Price?’ and another and downright-incorrectly dis-honestly and non-rightly irresponsibly: stealing: sealing The-Deal: Generic-key: Designer-rip-off: online: dia-logued:

Options: with-structure and series arcade-style deviation from the normal too complex-to-control, if at all cutting-edge, cut:

To: the Cit(y)ies: How We Live: Where and between each-other: with people we look like who we think looks like ourselves.

We ghettoize whether in the City or Countryside families living close or close to close to until they, we feel less, or more, than 20-25-33-66-75%% until we feel un-comfortable threatened or angry…   …   … … …   then, we move, if we can, anyway, somewhere with a higher perceived proportion, as ourselves.

Through the wall(s): the closest neighbour family and friendship(s) sailing and re-turning daily Home.

Community-Street: weekly, monthly, and for years on end, for Many Millennia on the Globe. Between the Sun and Moon: Lunar drawing onto Land, and into the skies.

Dinosaurus Giant Birds and (I)(n)sects:

‘Unsinkable…’

‘AirCraft Carrier? Red Sea-Monster. Blue-Oceanic: Technological and Fiscal expansion…’

‘Printing-Money…’ screen-pixelated:

‘Perhaps, bringing the-Cities down?’

‘The-Country? Whole-Continent(s):…’ un-like amoeba bacteria cytoplasm lichen on the surface…into the air and space-breathing-Glacier:

Below:

‘Iced-up Markets…’

‘As many grains there are of salt in the sea and sand on the land…’

‘Heated. Climate changing upwards and outwards as well as inwards and downwards…’

‘As now 3D…’

‘Mult(i)-(di)mensional…’

‘Un…mentionable…’

‘Being brought-down!’

‘8-Balls! Breasting-IT!!’

‘Cheek(s)!!!’

‘Financial-Pricing System Monetarist FPSM Monetarist: The-World: fiscal: ethno-linguistically gender and cultural-ability driven:

‘Merit-(o) Crass(y)! Us! Plut(0)cracies!!’

‘Dictatorship.’

‘Of: The Proletariat?’

‘Eradicate-Poverty.’

‘Eradicate the-Gentry first…’

‘Eat The Rich! Socialist-Dictatorship!’

‘Communist: Free-Trade!’

‘Social-Democracy!’

‘Individual Wealth-Gap nonetheless…’

‘Good-tactics@Global?’

‘Know-of-Any?

‘What?’

‘Tactics?

‘Goods. Civilization(s)?’

‘Rule of Law? A good idea…but…’

‘But what?’

‘Being brought-down!’

‘Bought-up!’

‘Bought-out!’

‘By? Who? Why?’

‘Grotesque Over:(I)nvestment:’

‘GOB: (i)n: Commercial and Re-sidential: sold-as: Leisure-Property: Port-Folio (LPPF): Strategically-falsely promoted-tactics…’

‘Dot-Comms’

‘Buildings’

‘Land. And destroying…’

‘Forest-Funding’ by incomprehensible debt-instrument

‘The-Peoples’ ourselves?’

‘Governments’?’

‘Sovereign-Presidential.’

‘Big-Business Areas of Expertise (BBAoE)’

‘Core in-Corporations (CiC):’

‘In-competance?’

‘Conspiracies?’

‘Banks! Funding-Investment. Growth…’

‘Evergreen False Growth.’

‘Figures…’

‘Too-quickly…’

‘Too-slowly…’

‘To get-out.’

Ex-hausting fumes’-as:  

‘Or not at all?’

‘Now?’

‘What?’

‘Want?’

‘Greed…paid-back spent on Charity Big-Projects (CBPs):’

‘Government-Quantative easing…’

‘Social-Taxes?’

‘Re-Gulations. Perhaps the-Price of Civilisation? Bringing in the goods…’

‘Taking-out.’

‘Buy-low. Sell-High:…’

‘Of-course.’

‘Build-High.’

‘Sell-low. Same as it’s ever been…’

‘Bringing in the-Harvest…’

‘Or-not…’

‘Global-failure…’

Fear-0f.’

‘Losing-0ut?’

‘Declaring: War! Prices-Wars!!!’

‘Good!’ race to the top, at the bottom:

‘Hiked Interest-Rate(s): for Currency-Exchange: Goods and Services:’

hitched un-hinged binged:

‘Trade-Wars? list…’

<US China-Russe-Euro-BrISA. Crisis. PIGS. Farming. Industrial and Servicing: Development Bank(s):

>Everywhere. Asia Africa and the southern Americas to Mexico: Asia-Mesa-Europe:

<Global-failure bailed-out: Central-Bank(s): USA. Of the Money-Banking System this-time.

@Money-Go-Round(MGR) fun(i)mation:

‘Harvest(s)’ Stays and Puts’ put and stayed. ‘Bubble?’

‘Double. Triplicate, now. Quadratic…’

‘The Great North-Sea Arctic-Circle saw nothing like this!’

‘Gas and Oil. Seas and Ocean(s)…’

‘Plastic(s):’

Pipeline: Money:

‘Of-Course! Metals and minerals from the poorest to the richest: back to the various: Global-Elite: Europe and North America stitching trainers in Cambodia and East-Pakistan:’

‘Western-Afghanistan and Pakistan …’

‘Tunisia. Iran. Egypt, Lebanon and Syria…’

‘Africa?’

‘Back to that?’

‘China. Land and more besides:..’

‘Desert and Caucasian-Mountains…’

‘UAE. Saudi…’

‘Irani and Iraqi and Syrian Turkish and Kurdistan Desserts.’

‘Mountains. Passes…’

‘Trade:’

‘Polar Oceanic-Deserts?’

‘RainForest?

‘POD: OPEC:’

‘GasOilPlastic-Pipeline: from Venezuela-to-Bolivia:’

‘To: Space?’

‘Broken-into:’

‘Beef?’

‘Under-the-Sea(s)?’

‘Space. Sub-marine. Carbon-fibre and Oxygen:’

‘Hydrogen and more besides….’

‘Clean-Water.’

‘Monied:…’ moaned…

‘Macro-Economics for: Outright-Profit.’

‘Max. of: The People?’

‘Majority-Dictatorship…’

‘Of the minority-Elite: like-Royals!’

‘Serf-Servant-Slave…’

‘Workers’ majority?’

‘By lies and deception…’

‘The-political.’

‘Businesses:’

‘Anti-Trust. Government Nationalistic Exceptionalism. Corporation(s)…’

‘Monopolistic-Characteristic(s): New-Era: Global: five and six at sevens…’

‘All-Sector: N/n…Registered-Bank(s): as if…’

‘Claims’ Bonus on top of that!’

‘Paying no-Taxes. None-seen. Who pays Taxes?’

‘Offshore Banking Business OBB)?’

‘Local-Taxes only Free-Trade abroad…’

‘Share-Holders’…

Pensions and In-Surance(s): Infra-Structure:…

Silk-Road and Economic-Belt. 

Their-Customer-Base?

Worker(s)-Peoples’ Beneficent-Practical: (I)n-vestment-Future(s) (B(I)F(s):…

‘P(I)S(i)s? Poor?’

‘Pension? In-surance? Savings? (i)nvestments? Of course! All: HiStory. All: Herstory@Secured.’

‘At any Cost?’

‘Profit?’

‘Cost?’

‘Subscription@re-gular (i)(n)©’ome…’

‘Debt-Lives? Un-secured?’

‘Secured Privately-Publicly secretive public-private Oligarch-Ownership of the Means-of-Production.’

‘Private-Property by Capital-Accumulation…’

Looking out the Train-Carriage window…

Cloudy?’

‘Pissing-down!’

‘Crapping-away!’

‘Now?’

Or:

‘Taxes?’

‘If You’re the-Revenue I don’t owe…’

‘Revenue?’

‘Police and Thieves.’

‘Race?’

‘Riot?’

‘No, won that-one long-ago…’

‘LCM. Low-Community-Mobility…’

‘As: against High-Social…?’

‘HSM! Where?’

‘Anywhere?’

‘No.’

‘Where?’ lowest: poorest and homeless…

GDP: Sovereign-City: Nation: State: less. Coastal-Town(s): piss-poor: apart from:

Tourism: Guide:

Taxes and fund(i)ng(s): supports taken-away:

online: Social-Structure: Austerity. Bubble-burst gave-up. All its’ gains tech. screen(s): Stocks and Shares. Anti-Trust Corporate-Monopoly. Government-Dictator-ship. Non-monopoly buy-off sell-off and take-over buy-backs and greenbacks

Quantity surveying-costs and price.

Bonded-Global Government (BGG) GDP securities…

(I)mpact peaks and costs’ rise and fall.

Faster and slower…

Peaks and Troughs.

Impact on-costs of-Tariffs on (i)m-ports from abroad equalling-out across different-good(s) cost(s) and service(s).

Stronger and weaker revenue-growth, any growth, domestically, and abroad, gone too-far out…

Re-trenchment, in the surrounding countryside; and see out the winter and summer trends, spring and autumn: Benchmark:Marker-Price (BMP):

N/n: Global Interest Rate Economique (GiRE).

Gross, and Net Domestic Product PPP (Purchasing Power Parity) as costs and expenditure to the thousands and millions and billions and now trillions, quadrillions that make up Global-Trade: as we go along: US Dollar and China Yuan.

India and Germany. Switzerland. Hong Kong. Argentina and Turkey. Indonesia and Australia.

Africa/Arabia: digital knowhow and skills to produce doctors and scientists better employed up to now, abroad. Months Home-Leave. With family and children. Parents and grand-parents, if still alive, the richer the more likely.  

Over reliant on Foreign Capital: U.S. Dollar or Yuan:  to base currency: and know-how from all over. Euro-Russe Empiric: Millennial Roman Anglo-English, French and Spanish and Portuguese speaking, all over the world. Arabic and Hebrew.

Both: the same now, as far as either of them or anyone on the train there, or anywhere-else knew as of:

All: Business-Dealings: Commerce that evening, instant, before: Put(s). Stayed.

Both now in the knowledge&thinking assumed of the other.

Both assumingly knowingly, unknowingly, yet simply pictorially–imagining that morning, the scene as unchanged from the nighttime before.

Then, as now: inside the City Stock-Market Building heavy-teakwood mahogany doors, tightly-closed hermetically-sealed a normally fluorescent glow turned-off.  Except for a single computer-screen presence, remaining-there:

Markets Closed. as if readied for all time, previously, for this day.

As if this had never happened before. Yet it had.

From the evening-before, as in pointless pointed dire-warning once installed, as if permanently.

Equivocally, perhaps, warnings’ automatically not to be taken too-literally, ignored, or ind(e)finitely normally meaning: before the cleaners had cleaned-up and some, but then, not-everyone- else had been cleaned-out.

Laundered clothes new and or not from the laundry.

Before psych€delic nightlife restaurant and television cabaret, the latest news and sport, weather and transport.

Then re-pose taken the on-message only that:

‘The-Markets will be open sooner rather than later.’

‘This same-day?’

‘Already?’

‘Agreed?’

Both:

‘As any other day.’

‘Business as Usual.’

‘This-Day.’  

This-day taking-over the competing computer-programmers’ co-operatively collectively collaboratively algorithmically team-metering as an un-licensed  taxi-cab carrying and insuring business-plans financially under-written and over-insured under-insured, over-written, or re-insured, or not-insured at all:

Violence-suspected

‘An Act of God!’

‘The Markets on Auto-Selling…’

‘A.I. I owe U. An Act of Us!’ not pre-programmed virtual-win, lose, or draw, cancelled postponed, or re-negotiated: The Annual Animal-Urge

To risk and win and/or destroy through miss-take existential-error…

Circumstantial un-fathomable into living-obliteration, nevertheless, un-de-con-strained…

Imposing, the investment-and Merchant-Bankers’ Accountancy-Clerk: en-suring not in-suring the values of private-equity stock in Government and Peoples’ Currency Industrial-Bonds individually personally self-owned, by self, or other, the amount of money in the system.

Priced-out, cash-back, borrowed on payday loan 

Accountant-Clerks’ savings-account pension-&in-surance, and country clear profit-too.

Government-Taxes, paid-in, or not.

Unemployment-Benefit, or not.

Disability and Illness payment as compensation, in sickness and in-health.

Or, not.

Un-paid breaks taken:

AbroadSuitcases full of cash it may as well be, except electronically and to-be taken-back with inward-investment, re-payment in compensation hitting-growth and R&D un-taxed.

Yet hardly covering the original computer-crime in sin in-bribes and back-handers’ dodgy-deals, reneged-on, millions of them, billions, now trillions soon-to-be quadrillions…  

Of no-risk fixed-rates’ false-accounting cash-in-the-bank.

Cash stayed out-of-the-bank.

Gold and Gems. 

Stayed-out. Moved. Ill-liquidated, stashed-away: unavailable to-government, or to the-People to spend. Of the-Family-Business and as of small-Company-Name(s): seen briefly as painted hoarding pasted on the side-of-buildings.

Plastic: Advertising as along the em-bankment Railway-Track, tram-lines alongside sidings and stations to be passed-through at high-speed, non-stopping…

All else, stopped.

Closed, shrunk, and engulfed by-globular enlarged Corporations’ advertising-hoardings for Banks’ Currency Economic-Zone and Country-Town passed-through.

High-Street: branches, shops and currency-exchanges as-laundering risked domestic clearing-houses for re-turns, or no-re-turn:

‘By the end of this-day…’

‘All-won or lost? Banks? Shops. People…’

On screen:

‘Purchasing-Power.’

‘Profit-to-Interest Rate(s).’

‘Equity. Stood-still. Quits? 50/50%? Who wins does not lose.’

‘Who loses does not win.’

‘Really?’ 

All investing higher-and-higher with insecure unsecured funds in stocks and insurances: inter-bank loans re-insurances and re-sales…within (closed-text) the listings…

Over and into…

All most as suddenly as the whole front-page picture re-pasted into-memory…

For the-Clerk far from assuaging the culpability of the-other now exposed as the deplorably irresponsible and reckless lender, not, as yet, wrecked-borrower, wreaked havoc-upon.

To: the-Banker, the-Clerk cast now as the likely irresponsible yet hapless helplessly indebted, no-deposit poor credit-rating history first-time mortgaged and-possibly employee.

As in: Bank-loaned as salaried invested monthly paid-off to be paid-back payday pay-check non-paper money: metallic on-screen backed and banked:shopped…spent… 

The-Bankers’ Newspaper front-page pictorial held-out, taut-and-proud, as a flag of convenience.

Or as a crumpled bank-note.

Opened, to the light of day, as checking the veracity of foldin’ money: cash: 

Bill-Fold Bank-Account the-Clerk knew; and returned, momentarily, to the hand-held, now re-opening news-filtering-screen newspaper heard again as the rustling of dry-leaf cadaver.

‘Ex-e-cutive: Golden-Account!’

‘Oil&Gas:’

‘Paying-over and-again.’

This: Plastic-Age.’

Outside the Train-Carriage: the weather not that inclement, or autumnal for the leaves to be springing, rising from their branches, or be freely-falling as snow-covered as foraging nuts and berries, for the long cold winter.

The Newspaper turned crisply inside-out and halved-again. Both to the same page skim-read by the-Clerk earlier: pre-registered up-front…next page…and as World-Wide-Web free and as-expected to be paid-for not:-freely-enabled seen with advertisements, and scammed, both skipped…to:

The (I)nsider-Report:

As of today there is so much owed, by so many, that cannot start to be paid-out or paid-back this day, or the next. This morning the Stock-Markets are closed. Once more World-Trade has ground a halt. All credit and trading, has been suspended. The trading of stocks and shares in recent times has left prices at such all-time high-levels, that, overnight, have collapsed. We are yet again in the grip of the greatest global fiscal and financial- fiasco, the greatest ever Economic Global-Crisis, ever, again.

Further-down:

This morning in Geneva there is to be an announcement of the International Conference on Monetary Compliance (ICMC). There is to be a declaration of economic policy and intent. This announcement is expected to stabilise major-global currencies and exchange-rates, at some mutually-agreed rate. To boost-confidence in the Banking-System and in Global Fiscal-Policy, and World-Trade. A shared-protocol, at Midday, World Mean-Time (WMT) today, by the Global-Gold International Date-Line we will be bankrupted, bank-rolled, bailed out by each of our Governments …

Then:

‘There will be winners, and there will be-losers…’ spoken out-loud.

Looking-up The-Banker as from The-Clerks’ laid-back attitude, drawn from the impending appended silence.

The-Banker now self-imposed as if exiled imaged point-of-view of the pictured closed-markets of:

The-Barrel:

‘The Photo?’

‘AKA: The-CageCalculated-Risk?’

‘Join the-Game?’

‘Game?’

‘Risk?’

‘Markets Closed.’

‘No-real-risk…then. Limited-liability. Only the de-tails to be added.’

‘Then?’

The-Banker, on-mobile cell-phone earpiece bartered furtively and openly and loudly and con-fidently as if now con-fidentially swapped hand-signals and punched the air slapped both-palms together:

‘High-fives! We are in the tens…six…seven! Billions? Trillions if you Will!’ and holding a-hand over the heart openly-palmed, and as sat, bowed slightly winked, a single staring- eye, as stooped to conquer:

‘Trillions, now…’

‘Quadrillion?’ with on-screen confirmation…re-directingconfirming… password…and printed-off paper-copy waved-frantically financial-agreement-stipulating:

‘Only to be signed-off…’ lifted from the floor brief-case revealed laptop lapped at reading-off as:

The-Clerk now speaking:

‘770-billion assets signed-off according-to…’

‘Trillions for Every One of US on this Planet, then?@Hell! No! No-one-else but Us.?’

‘No-one else? But?’

‘Us? Paradise? Fighting Forest-Fires?’

‘Ultra-Power: Corruption and Lies…’

‘Oil, Gas and clean-Water-supplies cut-off?’

From: Imperious-Presidential Colonial-Farm Petty-Plantation:

UnderGround-Railway: and own-owned at-Home.

The-Clerk continuing:

‘But the Markets are Closed.’

Deal(s) to be added, then?’

‘Details? How many-Trillions-more?’

‘Before-what?’

‘All is Lost?’

‘De-valued?’

‘Bought-out.’

‘What?’

‘Sold-off? That is the name of the Game? Selling-off? Selling-out? Others? Buying-up to the lowest bidder(s)’ Labour. Workers? Highest-People bought-off

‘Same.’

‘Difference…’

‘To the-Buyer. Or to the-Seller?’

‘Buyers’ market?’

‘Seller?’

‘Dealt-with.’

‘Deals?’

‘Debt?’

‘Done.’ and with a nod, laterally entrusted, undisputed, and further endorsed over-lengthy client mid-day luncheon tied-in: gifting as-charity by guilt-association expense-account accounted-for; and through, (I)nitial (P)ublic-(P)rivate Offer?

electronic-signatory: pass-name and number and as a matter of public-record:

‘De-tails?’

‘No-longer negotiable…’

‘Always…’

‘Or ever-were?’

The-Banker:

‘Then?’

Tapping keyboards:

‘Then?’

Then:

‘All to-be ironed-out today. All the-Clerks’ of All the-Worlds’ Works!’

As if spoken be-fore, many-times, both.

Informa(t)-kwiki: transparent liquid-like, solicited.

Solid as an assignment. Scenario: Proposition. Projected, through the air cloud-like as before the-bell was rung for-departure.

As a warning-to-anyone last-boarding the train-doors closed the train-carriage sealed and seated up-front aside:

‘I don’t know what to make of ‘It’. Yet…’

pause

Then The-Clerk bought the-thought snickered slightingly to-self, as if spoken to self.

Then: that sarcastic-thought or was it sardonic? outlined out loud:

‘But I’ll bet we will find-out later but soon-enough anyway, don’t you?’ sounded-differently.

As if someone-else had spoken the words instead.

As a gauntlet-glove thrown-down, to be picked-up:

‘O.K. If that’s what you make of it.’

‘What will I make-out of-it?’

‘To-day.’

Only as instantly-realised now, and as at the time-of-speaking earlier and that short-moment-later as-spoken now irritatingly in-timating im-itating only-now at the-Gamble seemingly committed-to.

The uncertainty now at-such a communally, yet privately, and now seemingly shared-venture.

This seemingly reasonable or now un-reasonable as yet un-priced, as yet only a projected-proposal.

There would be a price; and a cost too:

‘Purchase-Price Investment (PPI) and re-sale onward: that is all you need to know’…as yet, an un-bidden offer in-prospect to follow-up the seemingly automatically-accepted challenge, as yet to be fully realised:

‘O.K.’ as well as the-other, each spoken-now and heard and now-seen:

‘No going-back now.’

Both now considering the import of these words, the more thoroughly, thoughtfully, perhaps, than said and heard out-spoken mere-words spoken, written, now as to the-enterprising enquiry, requiring further-reply?

In-turns?

Or not?

Now: the earlier previously saved in-memory and as the first respondent again.

The-Clerk ignoring the possibility again of turn-taking, with another supplementary, yet elementary-question:

‘Why?’

‘Why?’

’Who?’

‘Is?’

‘What?’

Puzzlement pre-dicated predicament predict-able: seconded now by both-speakers.

Triplicated, as in triangulation here, almost-identically mindfully apart reflected against all others on the train.

On: The-Train (i)n the Train-Carriage: others-visible and seeing, through adjoined wood metal and leather cloth plastic-air cooled-compartment and as if no-further a-part or closer-to or from each others’-truth and in each-others’ minds: and all this meant? 

Exactly? And how soon?How soon, is now? How much is-enough? And: How much is at stake here?

Exactly? as instantly both now re-gretting the opening-given to the ex-clusion of anyone-else in the rumbling bone-rattling carriage: as both-enjoined as ad.-vertently now in a two-way dialogue of which at that immediate-point there was persisting yet only limit(ed.) course cause coarse core dis-orienting or mis(t)(y)(f)ying or any other-wise ver(i)fiable:

Group-Loop: (i)(n)formation

WarFair4:1.1. The Day the-Markets Collided.

Warfair4.2. Into The Abyss…

Warfair4.3. Crash! Global-Treason…

WarFair4.4. Global-Citizen.

Also by M.Stow:

Walter Mepham (A First World War true family and personal stories)

EarthCentre:The End of the Universe (An Anthropic Odyssey)

Universal Verses

Pan Tan-Gou

Arctol

Other short stories and poetry

X

copyright@M.Stow2020 all rights reserved

(C)M.Stow2020 all rights reserved

WARFAIR4.1. SHE

1. She.    

‘It is like living in a rabbit hutch’ She often said emphatically and metaphorically, and He replied with  

a shrug, nothing to say in reply. It was; and it would take long enough to pay for. Four rooms. Eight-floors up,   

eight flights of long turning concrete rubbish chute and stairs, and fire escape, for when the elevators did not   

function anyway, which was often and took days sometimes to repair.  A balcony open passageway at the

front, looking over the street below, now starting to become busy with traffic. They had lived with his parents for

 time, and then after they were married, in a small rented flat in The City, before they needed to afford   

somewhere to live together, and to bring-up their two small children.   

Both saved, and with some financial help from a relative (deceased) they had managed to get this place. When the housing market was ‘buoyant’, and mortgages easy to get. The Home was bought with a loan, a promissory note, deposited and co-lateraled together with their combined lives and the home itself. They were

afloat. Both worked to pay-off the loan, which although it was supposed to re-duce each year did not seem ever

to keep up with pay and prices. The loan would anyway be paid-off many times over if they were ever to pay off

the debt.   

             If this place was ever to become their own owned nothing to pay-back; then, if they managed to keep paying-off the loan for the ‘Shelter from the Storm’ as they called Home. That they did not actuarily now own, and may not ever, actually own, lose-lose. To sell-back at Market Price, the difference between the paid-back bought-price and Re-sell-price, ‘buyer beware’ and seller sell.

Of which they would have lost completely to The Bank…The Mortgage Company.  Their Home-Mortgage rent no(t)()-insurance their assured-pension against dire-poverty and homelessness.     

No social-recourse and be homeless, to parents and over-crowding again, or with friends similarly fixed, sofa-surfing their home, such as-it-was de-faulted, re-possessed. A two-bedroom apartment, she thought of: kitchen, lounge, shower-bathroom toilet and tiny balcony onto the world below, between them and the sky above. Each day, each month, and each successive year into the unthinkable future; two-thirds of two-lifetimes at least, two-thirds every month of what they were both paid-in wages-for-work earned. 

She did the household accounts, and she knew.    

The Home. The Loan. Would have been paid for several times over by the time if ever it became theirs and The Childrens’; and perhaps even their Grandchildrens’ by the time the shared-property many-floored building was un-inhabitable, de-molished land let-again, built-on freehold not-leasehold extended for-bonus payment un-earned…re-build in the new style, in a traditional place, or otherwise breaking into farmland and ocean beyond.  

              But that is the nature of the human animal, is it no? To do over, and be done-over to again and again she thought wanting more and more, for less and less and in the quiet mind wandering moment of pillared door, a room, a table, a bed let go and a bed sheet left behind ready to be buried with perhaps as they did in the olden- times shrouded as now by thin curtains pulled-back. Each-Day: like a two-step forward and quick-step foxtrot tango later backwards one-step…   

Home and Away.

Worked to pay-off the loan on the house and to pay for and cook food, with bills and   

extras, clothes, and nights-out occasionally.   

              Maybe once a month, or not at all.     

Then He had been laid-off work at The Bakery.    

Three-day-week and three day’s wages.   

The Home mortgage was re-negotiated and they continued struggling to pay-off the loan and other loans, credited and directly debited debt from what they both earned together.    

There was never an issue of who would earn more, and be the main breadwinner, they both earned   

more or less the same low wages as most the people who worked and they would do the most caring

of each other and the children: the unpaid responsibilities shared around the home, and in the world of work.    

Shopping and holidays and other friends and family out there.

All indebted, or in credit day2day. Week to week, month to next month, years, minute-by-minute. They were equal, without even having to think about it or confront societies and others’ false expectations of gender and families.

They were equal in debt and credit, and supported each other’s frail and fragile egos with a natural equanimity respectful and loving…   

Each contributing their best and differently in-differently knowingly to make the whole; whole.

It’s not all doom and gloom She did often think, and he tried not to think on it.

The homily homely claustrophobia only had to be relieved by going out. To the cinema, to a bar or restaurant. But that was not very often de-finitely now there were children as well.    

Sel-dom. did extras make their mark, clothes bought carefully a piece at a time, re-placement rather than extravagance.

The cupboards

filled with groceries and emptied by the time the next weeks shopping is needed and the next week’s earnings…already spent.   

              *

She was awake, first this morning, and she got up from the bed on which he still lay awake but not yet awake enough to leave its’ night-time warmth. She went through to the next room. The bedroom led across the narrow-passage to the living room, which led directly to the tiny gallery kitchen and balcony on one side and door to the front room, on the other side balcony corridor and more doors along.   

Except it wasn’t the front-room, exactly fronting only unlike the Front-Room of her-childhood playing on the street and door directly to the rugged ragged matted smell of cooking from the stone wall white-washed country kitchen.  

             Upstairs two bed-rooms and on the gallery landing for the children and a closet room to flush away with a basin of water from the kitchen sink-tap and toilet-well into the slurry sump, where you could hear it ‘slurry’ all the way down, filtered to spray on fields all around; and then back downstairs to replace the water from the kitchen-tap and outside clean-well.    

Pumped-up from the well, refilling the fired china clay bowl for washing and zinc-metal bucket, ready   

for the next use. Log grabbing toughened steel plasma-cutters hydraulic-ram chassis panel welded together.

Expertly  Put-together giant wheels axle brake. Pumping-oil to cool the engines’ turbo diesel s-carbed grapple

telescopic arms the claw car-crusher  shredder then the skid-board tracking:

Carbon-fibre e-road automobiles

Solar-panels settled

Wind farming blades and wave-machines

Generating heat&power and swimming in clean-air&water:    

> Low-No: installation& maintenance#

<Cost year-on-year. 

Apparently, free. At her first childhood home, bed-time children first, then the adults. Rats nested runs, beetles

and cockroaches were kept away by the domesticated cats and dogs that shared the yard and house with horses at the local stables for the carts and filed machinery; to ride, at week-end day-off, and many Holy

Days.

Each week, several times into the market town for food supplies, and the children’s treats.     

Their whole world a Living Market Place of Work Trust and Play.     

Now, great enclosed parked superstores and supermarkets and factory outlet warehouse.

Where goods are now transported she thought of: to-and-fro and by foot and horses’ hoofs carried and

motor vehicle, train and massive-tanker and container-ship

electric-like cutting through the air otherwise the absolute frozen hydrogen&helium of outer-space

A one-metre flight through almost nothingness 

baited breathed  

> One-click: Low-No-cost subscription no-way out… 

< N/nnn…paid-up…again and again.    

From the docks and airport, at the city harbour hub humming away, remote yet directing everyday life, everywhere.   

#Exorbitant-Political

#Business-Trips   

#Media-control:

They Holiday Passengers and Freight Cargo.    

The affordable flight, to get-away from-it-all: a change; a charge necessary move, once in a while, and   

not at-all. Every year they to visit family here and there and elsewhere, or else you’d go stir-crazy.     

Do a night-time flit, flip!

Leave the rent, the mortgage, un-paid.    

Only, to otherwise keep on fighting for the bargains: cheap-est with-in budget, to get through to the   

Next-day and the day-after-that.   

When debts and fines could not be paid, the debt collector bailiffs. The-Auctioneer: selling- off of the personal possessions; sometimes, on the Global Markets; and then sold-out the personal; and, T.V. public…the laptop computer on-sleep and awakened, opened, placedon the table, booted-up and She blogged instantaneously her-thoughts: 

#We all need a roof over our heads and to put Food on the Table! without any other word or contextual continuity that did not remain obvious to this earlyday morning motion.   

Everyone and anyone in the same and similar circumstances getting the same hastily tapped-out messages excluding, those without tablet, home or food; and those with patently far too-much those who employed had an Administration and management land and people to do that for them…

and her-thought continued in the context of the mindful moment and that which we all have to pay extortionately for over and again even when the food is eaten and the crap washed away there remains a nasty stain, a nasty taste. Original wages sinful sweated over day upon day, and loans ever in negative equity to who?   

Them! Income-Tax&Corporation-Tax paid/un-paid through government-corporate deal(s):

Extortionate debt-interest credit-profit and volatile prices, losses on last-accounts records ever higher

Revolving government lobby doors

Billions of military expenditure to be used-up

BELTWAY-BANDIT

BINGO! and pay…

ex-terminating…share-prices collapsed indebted…

Looking up, and down again now, not in dejection, but circumspection against ever apparent possible failure.

With desperate optimism, toward un-realistic perfectionism.

Auto-mechanized buffer-traffic building-up as soon as into a busy rush-hour congestion be-low…  

Silent cars and buses, bicycles, motorbike and motorized delivery truck from here, only another view.

From   

two-sides and every side… every ride.

*

Along the passage corridor the sleeping children slept, earlier peeked into soundless in beautiful dream or

dreamless seemingly startling worrying death-checked for breathing.   

Crossing from night into daytime TV remotely automatically turned on, confirmation, that   

life goes on…   

The living-room she entered bore all the chatter and the silence of one who listens. Still and safe, cosy and secure. The other rooms took over the emotions and needs: sleep and food, love and silly serious and abated arguments. The central room, the central chamber, looked on and awaited eventual, almost inevitable, but never certain re-conciliation, rest.

Indulged-in social-(e) vents, noisy chatter and quiet evenings indoors.

The furniture was adequate and filled the room. Table, chairs, television, a drawer and shelved cabinet standing against a wall, displaying various special icons; plastic flowers family photographs in frames, a portrait of a film star, or a print of a famous oil painting. Ornaments, statuettes, figures of worship and of novelty. The furniture, the infrastructure, from the livelihoods and eventually the roof over our heads…’in over our heads’ heard as if originally spoken there were unopened envelopes and cajoling leaflet advertisement:   

KILL YOUR DEBTS!

DIE DEBTS!

Kill your debts!

Die debts!    

she thought of letters and bills for payment, propped up behind a ticking clock. There was a picture postcard from someone-else’s holiday forming a picturesque frontage to hide the stack of demands for reply and payment which lay beyond.   

She-drewback the curtains and looked out of the window across the balcony, with it’s un-flowering plants growing in flower-pots. There was a real still rising mistiness outside from the early morning warming; and she gazed over an area where many lived, and it seemed to her, this morning, where they too just only lived-out their lives: day to day, week to week, minute-to-minute…   

They too thought to-themselves as she looked-out onto the dawn of a gradually opening new day that the world must have always been this way.    

2. They.    like comment review

M.Stow11.wordpress.com

WARFAIR4.com

WARFAIR4.1. SHE

1. She.    

‘It is like living in a rabbit hutch’ She often said emphatically and metaphorically, and He replied with  

a shrug, nothing to say in reply. It was; and it would take long enough to pay for. Four rooms. Eight-floors up,   

eight flights of long turning concrete rubbish chute and stairs, and fire escape, for when the elevators did not   

function anyway, which was often and took days sometimes to repair.  A balcony open passageway at the front, looking over the street below, now starting to become busy with traffic.

They had lived with his parents for a   time, and then after they were married, in a small rented flat in The City, before they needed to afford  somewhere to live together, and to bring-up their two small children.   

fBoth saved, and with some financial help from a relative (deceased) they had managed to get this  place. When the housing market was ‘buoyant’, and mortgages easy to get. The Home was bought with a loan, a promissory note, deposited and co-lateraled together with their combined lives and the home itself. They were

afloat. Both worked to pay-off the loan, which although it was supposed to re-duce each year did not seem ever

to keep up with pay and prices. The loan would anyway be paid-off many times over if they were ever to pay off

the debt.   

             If this place was ever to become their own owned nothing to pay-back; then, if they managed to keep paying-off the loan for the ‘Shelter from the Storm’ as they called Home. That they did not actuarily now own, and may not ever, actually own, lose-lose. To sell-back at Market Price, the difference between the paid-back buying-price and selling-price, and of which they would have lost completely to The Bank…The Mortgage Company.    

Their Home-Mortgage rent no(t)()-insurance their assured-pension against dire-poverty and

homelessness.     

No social-recourse and be homeless, to parents and over-crowding again, or with friends similarly fixed, sofa-surfing their home, such as-it-was de-faulted, re-possessed. A two-bedroom apartment, she thought of: kitchen, lounge, shower-bathroom toilet and tiny balcony onto the world below, between them and the sky above. Each day, each month, and each successive year into the unthinkable future; two-thirds of two-lifetimes at least, two-thirds every month of what they were both paid-in wages-for-work earned. 

She did the household accounts, and she knew.    

The Home. The Loan. Would have been paid for several times over by the time if ever it became theirs and The Childrens’; and perhaps even their Grandchildrens’ by the time the shared-property many-floored building was un-inhabitable, de-molished land let-again, built-on freehold not-leasehold extended for-bonus payment un-earned…re-build in the new style, in a traditional place, or otherwise breaking into farmland and ocean beyond.  

              But that is the nature of the human animal, is it no? To do over, and be done-over to again and again she thought

want more and more, for less and less and in the quiet mind wandering moment of pillared door, a room, a table, a bed let go and a bed sheet left behind ready to be buried with perhaps as they did in the olden- times shrouded as now by thin curtains pulled-back. Each-Day: like a two-step forward and quick-step foxtrot tango later backwards one-step…   

Home and Away.

Worked to pay-off the loan on the house and to pay for and cook food, with bills and   

extras, clothes, and nights-out occasionally.   

              Maybe once a month, or not at all.     

Then He had been laid-off work at The Bakery.    

Three-day-week and three day’s wages.   

The Home mortgage was re-negotiated and they continued struggling to pay-off the loan and other loans, credited and directly debited debt from what they both earned together.    

There was never an issue of who would earn more, and be the main breadwinner, they both earned   

more or less the same low wages as most the people who worked and they would do the most caring

of each other and the children: the unpaid responsibilities shared around the home, and in the world of work.    

Shopping and holidays and other friends and family out there.

All indebted, or in credit day2day. Week to week, month to next month, years, minute-by-minute. They were equal, without even having to think about it or confront societies and others’ false expectations of gender and families.

They were equal in debt and credit, and supported each other’s frail and fragile egos with a natural equanimity respectful and loving…   

Each contributing their best and differently in-differently knowingly to make the whole; whole.

It’s not all doom and gloom She did often think, and he tried not to think on it.

The homily homely claustrophobia only had to be relieved by going out. To the cinema, to a bar or restaurant. But that was not very often de-finitely now there were children as well.    

Sel-dom. did extras make their mark, clothes bought carefully a piece at a time, re-placement rather than extravagance.

The cupboards

filled with groceries and emptied by the time the next weeks shopping is needed and the next week’s earnings…already spent.   

              *

She was awake, first this morning, and she got up from the bed on which he still lay awake but not yet awake enough to leave its’ night-time warmth. She went through to the next room. The bedroom led across the narrow-passage to the living room, which led directly to the tiny gallery kitchen and balcony on one side and door to the front room, on the other side balcony corridor and more doors along.   

Except it wasn’t the front-room, exactly fronting only unlike the Front-Room of her-childhood playing on the street and door directly to the rugged ragged matted smell of cooking from the stone wall white-washed country kitchen.  

             Upstairs two bed-rooms and on the gallery landing for the children and a closet room to flush away with a basin of water from the kitchen sink-tap and toilet-well into the slurry sump, where you could hear it ‘slurry’ all the way down, filtered to spray on fields all around; and then back downstairs to replace the water from the kitchen-tap and outside clean-well.    

Pumped-up from the well, refilling the fired china clay bowl for washing and zinc-metal bucket, ready   

for the next use. Log grabbing toughened steel plasma-cutters hydraulic-ram chassis panel welded together.

Expertly  Put-together giant wheels axle brake. Pumping-oil to cool the engines’ turbo diesel s-carbed grapple

telescopic arms the claw car-crusher  mattress-shredder then the skid-board tracking:

Carbon-fibre e-road automobiles

Solar-panels

Wind farming blades and wave-machines

Generating heat&power and swimming in clean-air&water:    

> Low-No: installation& maintenance#

<Cost yr/yr.  

Apparently, free. At her first childhood home, bed-time children first, then the adults. Rats nested runs, beetles

and cockroaches were kept away by the domesticated cats and dogs that shared the yard and house with horses

at the local stables for the carts and filed machinery; to ride, at week-end day-off, and many Holy

Days.

Each week, several times into the market town for food supplies, and the children’s treats.     

Their whole world a Living Market Place of Work Trust and Play.     

Now, great enclosed parked superstores and supermarkets and factory outlet warehouse.

Where goods are now transported she thought of: to-and-fro and by foot and horses’ hoofs carried and

motor vehicle, train and massive-tanker and container-ship

electric-like cutting through the air otherwise the absolute frozen hydrogen&helium of outer-space

A one-metre flight through almost nothingness 

baited breathed  

> One-click: Low-No-cost subscription no-way out… 

< N/nnn…paid-up…again and again.    

From the docks and airport, at the city harbour hub humming away, remote yet directing everyday life, everywhere.   

#Exorbitant-Political

#Business-Trips   

#Media-control:

They Holiday Passengers and Freight Cargo.    

The affordable flight, to get-away from-it-all: a change; a charge necessary move, once in a while, and   

not at-all. Every year they to visit family here and there and elsewhere, or else you’d go stir-crazy.     

Do a night-time flit, flip!

Leave the rent, the mortgage, un-paid.    

Only, to otherwise keep on fighting for the bargains: cheap-est with-in budget, to get through to the   

Next-day and the day-after-that.   

When debts and fines could not be paid, the debt collector bailiffs. The-Auctioneer: selling- off of the personal possessions; sometimes, on the Global Markets;   

and then sold-out: the personal; and, T.V. public…the laptop computer on-sleep and awakened, opened, placed

on the table, booted-up and She blogged instantaneously her-thoughts: 

#We all need a roof over our heads and to put Food on the Table! without any other word or contextual continuity that did not remain obvious to this early day morning.   

Everyone and anyone in the same and similar circumstances getting the same hastily tapped-out messages excluding, those without tablet, home or food; and those with patently far too-much those who employed had an Administration and management land and people to do that for them…

and her-thought continued in the context of the mindful moment and that which we all have to pay extortionately for over and again even when the food is eaten and the crap washed away there remains a nasty stain, a nasty taste. Original wages sinful sweated over day upon day, and loans ever in negative equity to who?   

Them! Income-Tax&Corporation-Tax paid/un-paid through government-deal(s):

Extortionate debt-interest credit-profit and volatile prices, losses on last-accounts records ever higher

BELTWAY-BANDIT BINGO!

and pay…ex-terminating…share-prices collapsed indebted…

Looking up, and down again now, not in dejection, but circumspection against ever apparent possible failure.

With desperate optimism, toward un-realistic perfectionism. Only auto-mechanized buffer-traffic building-up as soon as into a busy rush-hour congestion be-low…  

Cars and buses, bicycles, motorbike and motorized delivery truck from here, only another view.

From two-sides; and every side…

*

Along the passage corridor

the sleeping children slept, earlier peeked into soundless in beautiful dream or dreamless seemingly startling worrying death-checked for breathing.   

Crossing from night into daytime TV remotely automatically turned on, confirmation, that   

life goes on…   

The living-room she entered bore all the chatter and the silence of one who listens. Still and safe, cosy and secure. The other rooms took over the emotions and needs: sleep and food, love and silly serious and abated arguments. The central room, the central chamber, looked on and awaited eventual, almost inevitable, but never certain re-conciliation, and rest.

Indulged-in social-(e) vents, noisy chatter and quiet evenings indoors.

The furniture was adequate and filled the room. Table, chairs, television, a drawer and shelved cabinet standing against a wall, displaying various special icons; plastic flowers family photographs in frames, a portrait of a film star, or a print of a famous oil painting. Ornaments, statuettes, figures of worship and of novelty. The furniture, the infrastructure, from the livelihoods and eventually the roof over our heads…’in over our heads’ heard as if originally spoken there were unopened envelopes and cajoling leaflet advertisement:   

KILL YOUR DEBTS!

DIE DEBTS!

Kill your debts!

Die debts!    

she thought of letters and bills for payment, propped up behind a ticking clock. There was a picture postcard from someone-else’s holiday forming a picturesque frontage to hide the stack of demands for reply and payment which lay beyond. She-drewback the curtains and looked out of the window across the balcony, with its unflowering plants growing in flower-pots. There was a real still rising mistiness outside from the early morning warming; and she gazed over an area where many lived, and it seemed to her, this morning, where they too only just lived-out their lives: day to day, week to week, minute-to-minute…   

They too thought to-themselves as she looked-out onto the dawn of a gradually opening new day that the world must have always been this way.    

2. They.    

continues with your likes comments reviews…

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M.Stow11 author

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WARFAIR4.com

WARFAIR4.1. SHE

1. She.    

‘It is like living in a rabbit hutch’ She often said emphatically and metaphorically, and He replied with  

a shrug, nothing to say in reply. It was; and it would take long enough to pay for. Four rooms. Eight-floors up,   

eight flights of long turning concrete rubbish chute and stairs, and fire escape, for when the elevators did not   

function anyway, which was often and took days sometimes to repair.  A balcony open passageway at the front, looking over the street below, now starting to become busy with traffic. They had lived with his parents for a  time, and then after they were married, in a small rented flat in The City, before they needed to afford   

somewhere to live together, and to bring-up their two small children.   

Both saved, and with some financial help from a relative (deceased) they had managed to get this place. When the housing market was ‘buoyant’, and mortgages easy to get. The Home was bought with a loan, a promissory note, deposited and co-lateraled together with their combined lives and the home itself. They were afloat. Both worked to pay-off the loan, which although it was supposed to re-duce each year did not seem ever to keep up with pay and prices. The loan would anyway be paid-off many times over if they were ever to pay off the debt. 

             If this place was ever to become their own owned nothing to pay-back; then, if they managed to keep paying-off the loan for the ‘Shelter from the Storm’ as they called Home. That they did not actuarily now own, and may not ever, actually own, lose-lose. To sell-back at Market Price, the difference between the paid-back buying-price and selling-price, and of which they would have lost completely to The Bank…The Mortgage Company. 

Their Home-Mortgage rent no(t)()-insurance their assured-pension against dire-poverty and homelessness.     

No social-recourse and be homeless, to parents and over-crowding again, or with friends similarly fixed, sofa-surfing their home, such as-it-was de-faulted, re-possessed. A two-bedroom apartment, she thought of: kitchen, lounge, shower-bathroom toilet and tiny balcony onto the world below, between them and the sky above. Each day, each month, and each successive year into the unthinkable future; two-thirds of two-lifetimes at least, two-thirds every month of what they were both paid-in wages-for-work earned. 

She did the household accounts, and she knew.    

The Home. The Loan. Would have been paid for several times over by the time if ever it became theirs and The Childrens’; and perhaps even their Grandchildrens’ by the time the shared-property many-floored building was un-inhabitable, de-molished land let-again, built-on freehold not-leasehold extended for-bonus payment un-earned…re-build in the new style, in a traditional place, or otherwise breaking into farmland and ocean beyond.  

              But that is the nature of the human animal, is it no? To do over, and be done-over to again and again she thought

want more and more, for less and less and in the quiet mind wandering moment of pillared door, a room, a table, a bed let go and a bed sheet left behind ready to be buried with perhaps as they did in the olden- times shrouded as now by thin curtains pulled-back. Each-Day: like a two-step forward and quick-step foxtrot tango later backwards one-step…   

Home and Away.

Both worked to pay-off the loan on the house and to pay for and cook food, with bills and  extras, clothes, and nights-out occasionally.                 Maybe once a month, or not at all.     

Then He had been laid-off work at The Bakery.    

Three-day-week and three day’s wages.   

The Home mortgage was re-negotiated and they continued struggling to pay-off the loan and other loans, credited and directly debited debt from what they both earned together.    

There was never an issue of who would earn more, and be the main breadwinner, they both earned more or less the same low wages as most the people who worked and they would do the most caring of each other and the children: the unpaid responsibilities shared around the home, and in the world of work.    

Shopping and holidays and other friends and family out there.

All indebted, or in credit day2day. Week to week, month to next month, years, minute-by-minute. They were equal, without even having to think about it or confront societies and others’ false expectations of gender and families.

They were equal in debt and credit, and supported each other’s frail and fragile egos with a natural equanimity respectful and loving…   

Each contributing their best and differently in-differently knowingly to make the whole; whole.

It’s not all doom and gloom She did often think, and he tried not to think on it.

The homily homely claustrophobia only had to be relieved by going out. To the cinema, to a bar or restaurant. But that was not very often de-finitely now there were children as well.    

Sel-dom. did extras make their mark, clothes bought carefully a piece at a time, re-placement rather than extravagance.

The cupboards filled with groceries and emptied by the time the next weeks shopping is needed and the next week’s earnings…already spent.   

              *

She was awake, first this morning, and she got up from the bed on which he still lay awake but not yet awake enough to leave its’ night-time warmth. She went through to the next room. The bedroom led across the narrow-passage to the living room, which led directly to the tiny gallery kitchen and balcony on one side and door to the front room, on the other side balcony corridor and more doors along.   

Except it wasn’t the front-room, exactly fronting only unlike the Front-Room of her-childhood playing on the street and door directly to the rugged ragged matted smell of cooking from the stone wall white-washed country kitchen.  

             Upstairs two bed-rooms and on the gallery landing for the children and a closet room to flush away with a basin of water from the kitchen sink-tap and toilet-well into the slurry sump, where you could hear it ‘slurry’ all the way down, filtered to spray on fields all around; and then back downstairs to replace the water from the kitchen-tap and outside clean-well.    

Pumped-up from the well, refilling the fired china clay bowl for washing and zinc-metal bucket, ready   

for the next use. Log grabbing toughened steel plasma-cutters hydraulic-ram chassis panel welded together.

Expertly  Put-together giant wheels axle brake. Pumping-oil to cool the engines’ turbo diesel s-carbed grapple

telescopic arms the claw car-crusher  mattress-shredder then the skid-board tracking:

Carbon-fibre e-road automobiles

Solar-panels settled

Wind farming blades and wave-machines

Generating heat&power and swimming in clean-air&water:    

> Low-No: installation& maintenance#

<Cost year-on-year into to un-seeable thinkable future. 

Apparently, free. At her first childhood home, bed-time children first, then the adults. Rats nested runs, beetles

and cockroaches were kept away by the domesticated cats and dogs that shared the yard and house with horses at the local stables for the carts and filed machinery; to ride, at week-end day-off, and many Holy

Days each week, several times into the market town for food supplies, and the children’s treats.     

Their whole world a Living Market Place of Work Trust and Play.     

Now, great enclosed parked superstores and supermarkets and factory outlet warehouse.

Where goods are now transported she thought of: to-and-fro and by foot and horses’ hoofs carried and

motor vehicle, train and massive-tanker and container-ship

electric-solar-sails cutting through the air otherwise the absolute frozen hydrogen&helium of outer-space

A one-metre flight through almost nothingness 

baited breathed  

> One-click: Low-No-cost subscription no-way out… 

< N/nnn…paid-up…again and again.    

From the docks and airport, at the city harbour hub humming away, remote yet directing everyday life, everywhere.   

#Exorbitant-Political

#Business-Trips   

#Media-control:

They Holiday Passengers and Freight Cargo.    

The affordable flight, to get-away from-it-all: a change; a charge necessary move, once in a while, and   

not at-all. Every year they to visit family here and there and elsewhere, or else you’d go stir-crazy.     

Do a night-time flit, flip!

Leave the rent, the mortgage, un-paid.    

Only, to otherwise keep on fighting for the bargains: cheap-est with-in budget, to get through to the   

Next-day and the day-after-that.   

When debts and fines could not be paid, the debt collector bailiffs. The-Auctioneer: selling- off of the personal possessions; sometimes, on the Global Markets;   

and then sold-out: the personal; and, T.V. public…the laptop computer on-sleep and awakened, opened, placed on the table, booted-up and She blogged instantaneously her-thoughts: 

#We all need a roof over our heads and to put Food on the Table!

without any other word or contextual continuity that did not remain obvious to this early day morning.   

Everyone and anyone in the same and similar circumstances getting the same hastily tapped-out messages excluding, those without tablet, home or food; and those with patently far too-much those who employed had an Administration and management land and people to do that for them…

and her-thought continued in the context of the mindful moment and that which we all have to pay extortionately for over and again even when the food is eaten and the crap washed away there remains a nasty stain, a nasty taste. Original wages sinful sweated over day upon day, and loans ever in negative equity to who?   

Them! Income-Tax&Corporation-Tax paid/un-paid through government-deal(s):

Extortionate debt-interest credit-profit and volatile prices, losses on last-accounts records ever higher

BELTWAY-BANDIT BINGO! and pay…ex-terminating share-prices collapsed indebted…

Looking up, and down again now, not in dejection, but circumspection against ever apparent possible failure.

With desperate optimism, toward un-realistic perfectionism. Only auto-mechanized buffer-traffic building-up

as soon as into a busy rush-hour congestion be-low…cars and buses, bicycles, motorbike and motorized

delivery truck pantechnicon from here, only another view.

From   

two-sides; and every side… every ride.

*

Along the passage corridor

the sleeping children slept, earlier peeked into soundless in beautiful dream or dreamless seemingly startling worrying death-checked for breathing.   

Crossing from night into daytime TV remotely automatically turned on, confirmation, that   

life goes on…   

The living-room she entered bore all the chatter and the silence of one who listens. Still and safe, cosy and secure. The other rooms took over the emotions and needs: sleep and food, love and silly serious and abated arguments. The central room, the central chamber, looked on and awaited eventual, almost inevitable, but never certain re-conciliation, and rest.

Indulged-in social-(e) vents, noisy chatter and quiet evenings indoors.

The furniture was adequate and filled the room. Table, chairs, television, a drawer and shelved cabinet standing against a wall, displaying various special icons; plastic flowers family photographs in frames, a portrait of a film star, or a print of a famous oil painting. Ornaments, statuettes, figures of worship and of novelty. The furniture, the infrastructure, from the livelihoods and eventually the roof over our heads…’in over our heads’ heard as if originally spoken there were unopened envelopes and cajoling leaflet advertisement:   

KILL YOUR DEBTS!

DIE DEBTS!

Kill your debts!

Die debts!    

she thought of letters and bills for payment, propped up behind a ticking clock. There was a picture postcard from someone-else’s holiday forming a picturesque frontage to hide the stack of demands for reply and payment which lay beyond.   

She-drewback the curtains and looked out of the window across the balcony with its unflowering plants growing in flower-pots and inside vases. There was a real still rising mistiness outside from the early morning warming; and she gazed over an area where many lived, and it seemed to her, this morning, where they too only just lived-out their lives: day to day, week to week, minute-to-minute…   

They too thought to-themselves as she looked-out onto the dawn of a gradually opening new day that the world must have always been this way.

2. They…

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WARFAIR4.com

War-fair4 1. SHE

1. She.    

‘It is like living in a rabbit hutch’ She often said emphatically and metaphorically, and He replied with a shrug,

nothing to say in reply. It was;and it would take long enough to pay for. Four rooms. Eight-floors up, eight

flights of long turning concrete rubbish chute and stairs, and fire escape, for when the elevators did not   

function anyway, which was often and took days sometimes to repair.  A balcony open passageway at the

front, looking over the street below, now starting to become busy with traffic. They had lived with his parents for

a time, and then after they were married, in a small rented flat in The City, before they needed to afford   

somewhere to live together, and to bring-up their two small children. Both saved, and with some financial help

from a relative (deceased) they had managed to get this place. When the housing market was ‘buoyant’, and

mortgages easy to get. The Home was bought with a loan, a promissory note, deposited and co-lateraled

together with their combined lives and the home itself. They were afloat.  

            Both worked to pay-off the loan, which although it was supposed to re-duce each year did not seem

ever to keep up with pay and prices. The loan would anyway be paid-off many times over if they were ever to

pay off the debt. If this place was ever to become their own owned nothing to pay-back; then, if they managed to keep paying-off the loan for the ‘Shelter from the Storm’ as they called Home. That they did not actuarily now own, and may not ever, actually own, lose-lose. To sell-back at Market Price, the difference between the paid-back buying-price and selling-price, and of which they would have lost completely to The Bank…The Mortgage Company. Their Home-Mortgage rent no(t)()-insurance their assured-pension against dire-poverty and homelessness.    

No social-recourse and be homeless, to parents and over-crowding again, or with friends similarly fixed, sofa-surfing their home, such as-it-was de-faulted, re-possessed. A two-bedroom apartment, she thought of: kitchen, lounge, shower-bathroom toilet and tiny balcony onto the world below, between them and the sky above. Each day, each month, and each successive year into the unthinkable future; two-thirds of two-lifetimes at least, two-thirds every month of what they were both paid-in wages-for-work earned. 

She did the household accounts, and she knew.    

The Home. The Loan. Would have been paid for several times over by the time if ever it became theirs and The Childrens’; and perhaps even their Grandchildrens’ by the time the shared-property many-floored building was un-inhabitable, de-molished land let-again, built-on freehold not-leasehold extended for-bonus payment un-earned…re-build in the new style, in a traditional place, or otherwise breaking into farmland and ocean beyond.

              But that is the nature of the human animal, is it no? To do over, and be done-over to again and again she thought want more and more, for less and less and in the quiet mind wandering moment of pillared

door, a room, a table, a bed let go and a bed sheet left behind ready to be buried with perhaps as they did in

the olden- times shrouded as now by thin curtains pulled-back.  Each-Day: like a two-step forward and quick-

step fox trot later backwards one-step…Home and Away worked to pay-off the loan on the house and to pay for

and cook food, with bills and extras, clothes, and nights-out occasionally.   

              Maybe once a month, or not at all.     

Then, He had been laid-off work at The Bakery.    

Three-day-week and three day’s wages.   

The Home mortgage was re-negotiated and they continued struggling to pay-off the loan and other loans, credited and directly debited debt from what they both earned together.    

There was never an issue of who would earn more, and be the main breadwinner, they both earned   

more or less the same low wages as most the people who worked and they would do the most caring

of each other and the children: the unpaid responsibilities shared around the home, and in the world of work.    

Shopping and holidays and other friends and family out there.

All indebted, or in credit day2day. Week to week, month to next month, years, minute-by-minute. They were

equal, without even having to think about it or confront societies and others’ false expectations of gender and

families. They were equal in debt and credit, and supported each other’s frail and fragile egos with a natural

equanimity respectful and loving…each contributing their best and differently in-differently knowingly to make

the whole; whole.

*   

It’s not all doom and gloom She did often think, and he tried not to think on it.

The homily homely   

claustrophobia only had to be relieved by going out. To the cinema, to a bar or restaurant. But that was not very often de-finitely now there were children as well.    

Sel-dom. did extras make their mark, clothes bought carefully a piece at a time, re-placement rather than extravagance.

The cupboards

filled with groceries and emptied by the time the next weeks shopping is needed and the next week’s earnings…already spent.   

              *

She was awake, first this morning, and she got up from the bed on which he still lay awake but not yet awake enough to leave its’ night-time warmth. She went through to the next room. The bedroom led across the narrow-passage to the living room, which led directly to the tiny gallery kitchen and balcony on one side and door to the front room, on the other side balcony corridor and more doors along.   

Except it wasn’t the front-room, exactly fronting only unlike the Front-Room of her-childhood playing on the   

street and door directly to the rugged

ragged matted smell of cooking from the stone wall white-washed country kitchen.  

             Upstairs two bed-rooms and on the gallery landing for the children

and a closet room to flush away with a basin of water from the kitchen sink-tap and toilet-well into the slurry sump, where you could hear it ‘slurry’ all the way down, filtered to spray on fields all around; and then back downstairs to replace the water from the kitchen-tap and outside clean-well.    

Pumped-up from the well, refilling the fired china clay bowl for washing and zinc-metal bucket, ready   

for the next use.    

*

Log grabbing toughened steel plasma-cutters hydraulic-ram chassis panel welded together. Expertly  Put-together giant wheels axle brake.    

Pumping-oil to cool the engines’ turbo diesel s-carbed grapple telescopic arms the claw car-crusher  mattress-shredder then the skid-board tracking

Carbon-fibre e-road automobiles solar panels settled wind farming blades and wave-machines generating heat&power and swimming in clean-air&water:    

> Low-No: installation& maintenance#

<Cost yr/yr.  

Apparently, free.   

*

At her first childhood home, bed-time children first, then the adults. Rats nested runs, beetles and   

cockroaches were kept away by the domesticated cats and dogs that shared the yard and house with horses at the local stables for the carts and filed machinery; to ride, at week-end day-off, and many Holy

Days. Each week, several times into the market town for food supplies, and the children’s treats.     

Their whole world a Living Market Place of Work Trust and Play.     

Now, great enclosed parked superstores and supermarkets and factory outlet warehouse.

Where goods are now transported she thought of: to-and-fro and by foot and horses’ hoofs carried and

motor vehicle, train and massive-tanker and container-ship

electric-like cutting through the air

Or the hydrogen&helium of outer-space

A one-metre flight through almost nothingness 

baited   

> One-click: Low-No-cost subscription no-way out… 

< N/nnn…paid-up…again and again.   

From the docks and airport, at the city harbour hub humming away, remote yet directing everyday life, everywhere.   

Exorbitant-Political Business-Trips   

Media-control: Holiday Passengers, and Freight Cargo.    

The affordable flight, to get-away from-it-all: a change; a charge necessary move, once in a while, and   

not at-all. 

Every year; but, to visit family here and there and elsewhere, or else you’d go stir-crazy.     

Do a night-time flit, flip! leave the rent, the mortgage, un-paid.    

Only, to otherwise keep on fighting for the bargains: cheap-est with-in budget, to get through to the   

Next-day and the day-after-that.   

When debts and fines could not be paid, the debt collector bailiffs.

The-Auctioneer: selling- off of the personal possessions; sometimes, on the Global Markets;   

and then sold-out: the personal; and, T.V. public…the laptop computer on-sleep and awakened, opened, placed on the table, booted-up and She

blogged instantaneously her-thoughts: 

#We all need a roof over our heads…and to put Food on the Table! without any other word or contextual continuity that did not remain obvious to this early morning.   

Everyone and anyone in the same and similar circumstances getting the same hastily tapped-out messages excluding, those without tablet, home or food; and those with patently far too-much those who employed had an Administration to do that for them and her-thought continued in the context of the mindful moment and that which we all have to pay extortionately for over and again even when the food is eaten and the crap washed away there remains a nasty stain, a nasty taste.   

             Original wages sweated over day upon day, and loans ever in negative equity to who?   

Them!   

              Income-Tax&Corporation-Tax paid/un-paid through government-deal(s): Extortionate debt-interest credit-profit and volatile prices, losses on last-accounts records ever higher BINGO!

and pay…ex-terminating…share-prices collapsed…looking up, and down again now, not in dejection, but circumspection against ever apparent possible failure.

With desperate optimism, toward un-realistic perfectionism.   

Only mechanized buffer-traffic building-up as soon as into a busy rush-hour congestion be-low…   Cars and buses, bicycles, motorbike and motorized delivery truck from here, only another view.

From   

two-sides; and every side…

the bedrooms along the passage corridor

the sleeping children slept, earlier peeked into soundless in beautiful dream or dreamless seemingly startling worrying death-checked for breathing.   

Crossing from night into daytime TV remotely automatically turned on, confirmation, that   

life goes on…

WarFair4: The Day the Market(s) stood still…part-one:  

Rogue-Citizen: Into The Abyss… Global-Citizen.  

GRIFTER  

GRAFTER  

DRIFTER  

M.Stow©2021  

Copyright M.Stow©2017 M.Stow All rights reserved.  

Distributed by Anchor Google Apple Spotify Breakfm  

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may be given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional free copy for each person you share it with. As you are reading this book:

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. M.Stow 2019.

ISBN13: 9798562679352

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WarFair4.1. The Day the Market(s) stood still…  

M.Stow  

Contents  

  1. She.  
  2. They.  
  3. He.  
  4. The Banker and The Clerk.  
  5. Factory Hospital and Home.  
  6. The Accident & Emergency Department.  
  7. Wrecking-Ball.  

Part Two

8. Titanic!  

  • Avatar.  
  • Cannon Fodder.  
  • Rent.  
  • Slaughter.  
  • Brute Justice  
  • Global-Den(i)Zen  

*

If the man and the woman bear their fair share of work, they have a right to their fair share of all that is produced by all, and that share is enough to secure them well-being. What we proclaim is The Right to WellBeing: Well-Being for All! Pyotr Kropotkin (1842 – 1921) The Conquest of Bread; Mutual Aid: A Factor of Evolution.    

*   

The-train engine slowly moved-out from the glass and steel raised-slab new edge-of-Town main-line high-speed railway-platform running alongside the banking blank back of high-street shops, and the station carpark, awaiting return. Into harvested-fields and open-grazed pastures below remaining precipitous pine-forest alongside planted poplar windbreak, solar and shielded, rail and river. Through the trees, the new days’ sun appeared, speared, blinking-awake burst through the carriage   breaking beyond the blue grey staged and staggered, rolled and ranged. From the east-peaked, settling yellow-orange onto the western-hills.   

Shadow-flanking purple-green valleys, and upcountry the grid-framed farmed plains, where the day was already begun. Grey-white

steam lifted across a drying-up estuary. In thin rain spluttering over an elevated iron-riveted painted girder-bridge, built-on pillars of a deep-red

local stone and brickwork, arched, and breached. With the Suns’-rays the train rattled-on emergent, as through a fog-over a beached river, onto

the other-side of a ravenous gaping-gorge. Over-spilling through the outskirts of a more recently built-up ancient sea-harbour and river-port, and

suburban edge-of-Town. High-Rise Housing-Project, Industrial-Units, Business-Park, and Shopping-Mall. Home-Furniture. Motor-Car showrooms. Salesrooms, cheap-hotel and motel linked razor-wire fenced, chained-in. A horse-paddock, gated and padlocked, adjacent to a blue-green to red-waiting train-crossing signal. Freight-Train, privileged-over passenger passaged prerogative thundering-by… passenger-Train trundling alongside for now, beside a chequered yellow and black no entry arterial hot tar road weighted heavy and ever busy with ‘bus and coach, cycle and motor-cycle. Car engine chassis and trailer, caravan motor-home articulated juggernaut vehicles, goods and stocks’ container shipments onboard. 

             Onto and beneath the over-passing concrete-highway into, and out of Town. All traffic travelling with almost one accord: to-and-from galvanized corrugated iron-steel and zinc-tin roved roofing, between brick and- cinderblock doorways, loading and unloading bays beneath open canopy entrance letter and number laser bar- coded, and secured. Office(s)&Home(s) air-extracting for the most-part to the outside world unseen. Windowless factories and warehouses between belching cooling-tower, pylon-linking electric-welding  workshop engineering, factory-crafted machined and handmade goods. Food and furniture, packaged, warehoused, and shipped

Virtually to-and-from The-City Ports and Portals’

Co-modifying in-return sdtockyards stacked-up and in-exchange

Goods&value-assured#

Awaiting transport: to-and-from

Home&Away…   

Part One: The Day the Markets stood still…   

Published at M.Stow11.Wordpress.com  

WARFAIR4 1. SHE

Part One: The Day the Markets stood still…   

Published at M.Stow11.Wordpress.com  

1.

She.    

‘It is like living in a rabbit hutch’ She often said emphatically and metaphorically, and He replied with a shrug, nothing to say in reply. It was; and it would take long enough to pay for. Four rooms. Eight-floors up, eight flights of long turning concrete rubbish chute and stairs, and fire escape, for when the elevators did not  function anyway, which was often and took days sometimes to repair.  A balcony open passageway at the front, looking over the street below, now starting to become busy with traffic. They had lived with his parents for a time, and then after they were married, in a small rented flat in The City, before they needed to afford 

somewhere to live together, and to bring-up their two small children.   

Both saved, and with some financial help from a relative (deceased) they had managed to get this place. When the housing market was ‘buoyant’, and mortgages easy to get. The Home was bought with a loan, a promissory note, deposited and co-lateraled together with their combined livlihoods and the home itself. They were afloat.  

            Both worked to pay-off the loan, which although it was supposed to re-duce each year did not seem ever to keep up with pay and prices. The loan would anyway be paid-off many times over if they were ever to pay off the debt if this place was ever to become their own owned nothing to pay-back; then, if they managed to keep paying-off the loan for the ‘Shelter from the Storm’ as they called Home.   

            That they did not actuarily now own, and may not ever, actually own, lose-lose. To sell-back at Market Price, the difference between the paid-back buying-price and selling-price, and of which they would have lost completely to The Bank…

The Mortgage Company.    

Their Home-Mortgage rent no(t)()-insurance their assured-pension against dire-poverty and homelessness.   No social-recourse and be homeless, to parents and over-crowding again, or with friends similarly fixed, sofa-surfing their home, such as-it-was de-faulted, re-possessed. A two-bedroom apartment, she thought of: kitchen, lounge, shower-bathroom toilet and tiny balcony onto the world below, between them and the sky above. Each day, each month, and each successive year into the unthinkable future; two-thirds of two-lifetimes at least, two-thirds every month of what they were both paid-in wages-for-work earned. 

She did the household accounts, and she knew.   

The Home. The Loan. Would have been paid for several times over by the time if ever it became theirs and The Childrens’; and perhaps even their Grandchildrens’ by the time the shared-property many-floored building was un-inhabitable, de-molished land let-again, built-on freehold not-leasehold extended for-bonus payment un-earned…re-build in the new style, in a traditional place, or otherwise breaking into farmland and ocean beyond.  

              But that is the nature of the human animal, is it no? To do over, and be done-over to again and again she thought: want more and more, for less and less and in the quiet mind wandering moment of pillared door, a room, a table, a bed let go and a bed sheet left behind ready to be buried with perhaps as they did in the olden- times shrouded as now by thin curtains pulled-back. Each-Day: like a two-step forward and quick-step fox trot later backwards one-step…   

Home and Away worked to pay-off the loan on the house and to pay for and cook food, with bills and extras, clothes, and nights-out occasionally.   

              Maybe once a month, or not at all.     

Then He had been laid-off work at The Bakery.    

Three-day-week and three day’s wages.   

The Home mortgage was re-negotiated and they continued struggling to pay-off the loan and other loans, credited and directly debited debt from what they both earned together.    

There was never an issue of who would earn more, and be the main breadwinner, they both earned more or less the same low wages as most the people who worked and they would do the most caring, of each other, and the children: the unpaid responsibilities shared around the home, and in the world of work.    

Shopping and holidays and other friends and family out there. All indebted, or in credit day2day week to week, month to next month, years, minute-by-minute.    

They were equal, without even having to think about it or confront societies and others’ false expectations of gender and families. They were equal in debt and credit, and supported each other’s frail and fragile egos with a natural equanimity respectful and loving…   

Each contributing their best and differently, in-differently to make the whole, whole.   

It’s not all doom and gloom She did often think, and he tried not to think on it.

The homily homely claustrophobia only had to be relieved by going out. To the cinema, to a bar or restaurant. But that was not very often de-finitely now there were children as well.    

Sel-dom. did extras make their mark, clothes bought carefully a piece at a time, re-placement rather than extravagance. The cupboards filled with groceries and emptied by the time the next weeks shopping is needed and the next

week’s earnings…already spent.   

              *

She was awake, first this morning, and she got up from the bed on which he still lay awake but not yet awake enough to leave its’ nigh-time warmth. She went through to the next room. The bedroom led across the narrow-passage to the living room, which led directly to the tiny gallery kitchen and balcony on one side and door to the front room, on the other side balcony corridor and more doors along.   

Except it wasn’t the front-room, exactly; only, unlike the ‘front-room’ of her childhood playing on the street and door directly to the rugged ragged matted smell of cooking from the stone wall white-washed country kitchen. Upstairs two bed-rooms and on the gallery landing for the children and a closet room to flush away with a basin of water from the kitchen sink-tap and toilet-well into the slurry sump, where you could hear it ‘slurry’ all the way down, filtered to spray on fields all around; and then back downstairs to replace the water from the kitchen-tap and outside clean-well pumped-up from the well, refilling the fired china clay bowl for washing and zinc-metal bucket, ready for the next use.    

Land clearing grabbing toughened steel plasma-cutters hydraulic-ram chassis panel welded together. Expertly put-together giant wheels axle brake.    

Pumping-oil to cool the engines’ turbo diesel s-carbed grapple telescopic arms the claw car-crusher  mattress-shredder then the skid-board tracking carbon-fibre e-road automobiles solar panels settled wind farming blades and wave-machines generating heat&power and swimming in clean-air&water:    

> Low-No: installation& maintenance#

<Cost year-on-year of stabilityies and balancings

Apparently, free. Her first childhood home, bed-time children first, then the adults. Rats nested runs, beetles and cockroaches were kept away by the domesticated cats and dogs that shared the yard and house with horses at the local stables for the carts and filed machinery; to ride, at week-end day-off, and many Holy Days. Each week, several times into the market town for food supplies, and the children’s treats. Their whole world a Living Market Place, of Work Trust and Play.     

Now, great enclosed parked superstores and supermarkets and factory outlet warehouse.

Where goods are now transported she thought of: to&fro and by foot and horses’ hoofs carried and motor vehicle, train and massive tanker and container-ship electric like cutting through the air or the hydrogen&helium of outer-space a one-metre flight through nothingness 

baited   

> One-click: Low-No-cost subscription no-way out… 

< N/nnn…paid-up…again&again.   

From the docks and airport, at the city harbour hub humming away, remote yet directing everyday life, everywhere.    

Exorbitant-Political  Business-Trips   

Media-control: Holiday Passengers, and Freight Cargo.    

The affordable flight, to get-away from-it-all: a change; a charge necessary move, once in a while, and not at-all. 

Every year; but, to visit family here and there and elsewhere, or else you’d go stir-crazy.     

Do a night-time flit, flip! leave the rent, the mortgage, un-paid.    

Only, to otherwise keep on fighting for the bargains: cheap-est with-in budget, to get through to the Next-day and the day-after-that.   

When debts and fines could not be paid, the debt collector.    

Bailiffs, The-Auctioneer: selling- off of the personal possessions; sometimes, on the Global Markets;   

and then sold-out: the personal; and, T.V. public…    

The laptop computer on-sleep and awakened, opened, placed on the table, booted-up and She blogged  

instantaneously her-thoughts: 

#We all need a roof over our heads…and to: put Food on the Table! without any other word or contextual continuity that did not remain obvious to this early morning.   

Everyone, and anyone in the same and similar circumstances getting the same hastily tapped-out.  

Messages excluding, those without tablet, home or food; and those with patently far too-much.    

Those who had a paid Administration to do that for them and her-thought continued in the context of the mindful moment and that which we all have to pay extortionately for over and again even when the food is  eaten and the crap washed away there remains a nasty stain, a nasty taste.   

             Original wages sweated over day upon day, and loans ever in negative equity to who?   

Them!   

              Income-Tax&Corporation-Tax paid/un-paid through government-deal(s):    

Extortionate debt-interest credit-profit and volatile prices, losses on last-accounts records ever higher BINGO! and pay…ex-terminating…prices collapsed…looking up, and down again now, not in dejection, but circumspection against ever apparent possible failure, with desperate optimism, toward un-realistic perfectionism.   

Only mechanized buffer-traffic building-up as soon as into a busy rush-hour congestion be-low…   Cars and buses, bicycles, motorbike and motorized delivery truck from here, only another view. From   

two-sides; and every side… the bedrooms along the passage corridor, the sleeping children slept, earlier peeked into soundless in beautiful dream or dreamless seemingly startling worrying death-checked for breathing.   

Crossing from night into daytime TV remotely automatically turned on, confirmation, that   

life goes on…

                *

The living-room she entered bore all the chatter and the silence of one who listens. Still and safe, cosy and secure. The other rooms took over the emotions and needs: sleep and food, love and silly serious and abated arguments…

The central room, the central chamber, looked on and awaited eventual, almost inevitable, but never certain re-conciliation, and rest. Indulged-in social-(e) vents, noisy chatter and quiet evenings indoors. The furniture was adequate and filled the room. Table, chairs, television, a drawer and shelved cabinet standing against a wall, displaying various special icons; plastic flowers family photographs in frames, a portrait of a film star, or a print of a famous oil painting.   

Ornaments, statuettes, figures of worship and of novelty. The furniture, the infrastructure, from the livelihoods and eventually the roof over our heads…’in over our heads’ heard as if originally spoken.  

There were unopened envelopes and cajoling leaflet advertisement:   

Kill your debts! Die debts!     

she thought of letters and bills for payment, propped up behind a ticking clock. There was a picture postcard from someone-else’s holiday forming a picturesque frontage to hide the stack of demands for reply and payment which lay beyond.   

She-drewback the curtains and looked out of the window across the balcony, with its unflowering plants growing in flower-pots. There was a real still rising mistiness outside from the early morning warming; 

and she gazed over an area where many lived, and it seemed to her, this morning, where they too just only lived-out their lives: day to day, week to week, minute-to-minute…   

They too thought to-themselves as she looked-out onto the dawn of a gradually opening new day that the world must have always been this way.    

2. They.    

They had stayed together and with two little ones, one of each, girl and boy by the time they’re both about to be in school, they could not risk another to bring up, and the cost of it. They only hoped they would hold on to their jobs and they worked hard. Difficult hours, and some days-off. When the rota’s didn’t workout for childcare, family or neighbours, parents now friends of the children’s nursey and school friends who lived conveniently nearby, the social network from the cradle to nursery school to work to death to grave.    

They had met when things were starting to get a bit tight, to get difficult again. Meaning the situation for most working families, for those looking for work and those in work things had not got any better; any easier, really. During the so-called Good-Times and both parents were needed in credit and debt, to work to keep the family going. Voluntary social-networks anti-social became all the more significant, to reciprocal SharedCare and   

Circles of Support. With child and adult inter-action social and meaningful Shared-Lives. They had both kept their jobs in more or less ‘essential services’ although

not 

without the job-cuts, asset-cuts longer the hours never-the-less, ever the less, ever the more, when things got difficult all a-round. When the Bakery Factory where He and Family lived&worked, went on three-days week, and pay to match. He, had more time to be with the children, and helped the same with her awkward shiftwork at the garment factory, and later She at the hospital, for the Children, then training there, working there. he had done some building work on the odd-days, to fill-in. She had done some shop-work and garment-making before all the ‘Shop Jobs’ Retail’, were filled,

and not-hiring. Not selling either. Queen of Queues at the cash-tills to no-one at the field-tills home-farm filed for bankruptcy. They had moved to his folks in The City then: suburbs really, inner-urban, something-likethat.   

His mother had worked at The Old Mill and got her a job there; and then Him at The Bakers’ Factory, at the top of the road. When and where, the area they had moved to with Family and friendly neighbours nearby already there: People, their people…   

They had moved-in together; and had kids.    

Social response to industrial tech-revolution generational confuse price/cost value to shareholders, themselves, pensions&Insurances lies broken-trust rent/profit free from well-being gross domestic product&notproduct money…   

HOME. Income2spend from the public/private capital banks channelling opportunities liberal physiocrats benevolent zillionaires…   

Steady. Family Equity Capital Communally taken as given and worked harder for more, less hard for less, but none less than the Universal Domestic Income.    

His father’s family had been transient, transitory migrant millers, horses, wheat and grain, before that, gypsies, owned business.    

Machinery, finding digging the wells, water, oil from the oil swamp, brick building and tarmac road, growing taking fruits and nuts from the side of vegetable and allotment gardens.    

Did well. Moving around farm to farm, funnily enough she thought like Business-People nowadays do…  Looking across the roads, below, leading to The City. To: The Airport to visit: Sales-People: to the Re-tail  

Outlets. Biggest Shops in the World: BSW in other words: Big Business Commuting by-airplane as They might, if They could  afford to. To: go on Holiday. Abroad. They, to meet Clients Meetings’ here and there and everywhere. Cities all   over, to do deals on a massive Global-Scale, then worth millions, now worth billions and trillions quadrillions of whatever the currency.    

Sometimes-dealing, unevenly, unbalanced, in the local and World currencies themselves exponentially they marked an inverse ever increasing and decreasing rate of ex-change.

               They took on a Shop Franchise Family-Bank loan to rent and stock and share.   

In the past when the work dried-up, landfill fertiliser, phosphate-polluted arsenic-poisoned wells and rivers and seas and Oceans…    

His Gypsy ‘family ‘moved along’ as they were constantly told.    

Or, stayed with their stores. Shares of the crops of the fields, and water, natural and free from the

Clean-air and water-well waited, weighted looking- for different and more labour Corporate-City: farms&factoryies time&motion…  

               *     

She thought of them, then her own family. Out of work, they always found something. Fed themselves from great-gardens and small-farmyards. When the work was finished, they moved on. When the Great-  

Corporate moved-in, took over, sold-off Master-Slavery Corporate-style servant-salaried first month free wage- worker weekly, daily, hourly by the minute: along the roads and waterways, they, her family, had a farm in the  countryside for a while, and the parents, lived there. Hers. Through the Industrial now Techno-Future: The Soul  of The City commute only tumultuous-Towns and vicious-Villages. Across the River, across the tram tracks,  and railway, by the station. The Heart of the City 

Just beyond The ROAD&RAIL AIR ALL PORTS signage. 

Warehouse&Financial-Quarter  

Settling-in. The-City. Walled and castellated.    

Transport and Trade-hub thronged and His parents self-employed en-thron(ed.) their own bosses;   

contractors, worked-out on the Building Sites of Towering Sky-Scrapers lining: 

The River and lit-up, from the Sun 

Oceanic flag-sails in the wind.    

Her-Family. Employed, not their own boss.    

Both, as themselves, on some land, renting, from they pay. Then, they… He and She eventually, buying:   

Home-Owners, now. Investors in their own future, and their children’s children, and their’s owned, in-return.   

Like: The Home-property itself, capable of being, and being dis-owned.   

Not strictly-speaking   

Legal&General traditional owned anyway.    

#But, for the Mortgage Home Owners Corporations and Companies, and now indebted to sums   

monthly.   

             The-Bank(s). Building and Maintenance Trades. Education, Social-Care and Good-Health first…   taxied to meetings and desks. School, HomeWork. Out-and-Out working: Home-Owners and Private and   

Publicly Rented-Sector: Community Housing-Association(s) and: under-val(u)(ed.):  Gig-Machiner(y): Market- Economy: #1%. To: 9%. To: 90% self-Employed advertising tax-paying costs and prices up and down  depending on what side of the Power-Play had been Won.   

Every second milli-second playing in relation(s) to each other…   

Dead.    

Next. FCUK.    

Call…  

Soon the television was blaring as usual in the morning. In the main room that was empty again for the moment, and beyond where she was now dressing hurriedly, and he was brushing his hair frantically.    

There was the noise of children getting washed and dressed, with incessant commentary and conversation to each other, and any other, or just to themselves.   

To each other a one-way argument. Older to younger incited over some triviality, shouted back in frustration. At that point the only-game-in-town, and to be fought-out until one of them is crying, and the other shouting-the-odds; before calm is brought.   

Evens by one or other parent, supervising, managing, supposedly, to each-other, at least while they all got ready for work, school and pre-school nursery. The sound of the kettle screaming on the kitchen cooker; and television advertisements conveying to deaf ears, and blind eyes, but perhaps receptive memory:   

‘The Best in the World’; Or:   

Longer-lasting’ or whatever the dubious selling point perhaps to be unconsciously recalled later that day, at the supermarket.   

At present they seemed to be of no avail, both rushed to get the children to school, and themselves out to work. To earn the pay that would pay the prices at the Super-Market later that day:   

‘Where is my shirt?’ he called:    

‘Where you last put it!’ she retorted as She entered the living room. She found her shoes under a chair and stopped in front of the television. The networked advertisements ended and the programme returned to the main story of the day:   

‘Today there is no money to pay share dividends, or to buy shares with…’    

She flicked a channel and got:   

‘Group and individual share prices have collapsed or become so high that they have become worthless…’   

‘Confidence has collapsed, debt un-diminished…’  

‘Price increases have been blamed. Increases in pay and pensions have been blamed. Increases in  

Business-Bank Personal-Investment interest-rates and maximizing profit-levels at any cost, have been blam(ed.)   Each of these, has pushed share prices ever upwards. As cost and share prices and shop prices overtake the customers’ ability to pay and the ability to pay pushes prices-up, and costs pushes pay-down…’  

‘Not pay-up&prices down then?’   

             <             >Profit margins narrowed              > Man-Date. Re-captured only by increases in:    

‘EARNINGS!’ 

‘Income…’ 

‘Earned.’ 

‘Cost-Price…’  

‘Exactly.’  

Reading-screen: Interest rates on banking and other loans, have pushed share prices up even further on costs and  price…’ and a view passed across the screen to locked Factory-Gates and closed down Hospital corridor(s0)…    

De-fence: Air: Ports and Sea and Land-Borders: closed to traffic or trade. It did not seem too bad, or even unusual: the Television Experts and announcers liked to make a big deal out of anything She thought: it was their jobs after all. The pictures shifting shift(ed.) to City Office-Buildings.   

Steeled glass to the very Sky! that only a few were being allowed into; and then to the squares and circuses around Town and City Centres. All over the globe, all the streets and roads and highways leading there.   

A TV reporter turned away from the camera, and let the scene, somewhere else: could be anywhere else, speak for itself. In the kitchen radio-reports followed from the stock-markets around the world:   

‘Tokyo Nikkei Shanghai Shenzhen Hang Seng Bangkok: Dubai-Delhi: Bombay: Carib. Africa-  

Saudi-UAE: Israel and Egyptian Stock Exchanges…’  

‘RTS Moscow Deutche Frankfurt Cape-Town London…  and

Canada Stock Exchanges: New York Wall Street and Rio…’  

‘Iran-Dubai: Trading-Port for Oil&Money: Defensive-position(s): Buenos Aires to Lima…’   

‘China to Venezuela and Bolivia.’ 

‘Bots-Wana to Brazil: JSE Securities Nairobi and Nigerian, and Sydney…   

Stock-Exchanges…’ as she went to look for tea-bags. He got the cups out and put some bread under the grill 

to toast.  

            As the cups were emptied and the door was opened to go-out: The Stock-Market Reports were interrupted by the radio-announcer:   

              ‘We have heard in the last few minutes that The International Conference of Governments and World Banks meeting in Geneva are to make statements, at midday mean-time, on the current state of financial affairs across the globe. The Economic Crises’ around the world…’  

They stopped and looked at each other as they heard the announcement:   

‘What will they come up with this time I wonder?’ 

She asked aloud to him and to the radio speaker and as she went to the bathroom door:   

‘Come on you two!’ to the children, and to him in the same breath:   

‘What time are you finishing today?’   

‘On Lates!’ his reply; with a shrug, noticed, as she said:   

‘I’ll have to clock off early then, get a re-placement:’ and She thought another opportunity to sack-me, but if school finishes before work what are we supposed to do?   

‘I’m taking them in, anyway!’ he called.   

‘I know!’, she replied:    

‘We will have to go to the SuperMarket tonight.’ added knowingly: a reluctant necessity when it came  

to it:  

‘Or tomorrow anyway…’ as she kissed him on the lips, quickly, tantalizingly, knowingly this weekly and often daily shopping trip is what they did all this for.    

Along with the mortgage-rent and love of their family and children smiling he went out of the door, onto the communal hallway:   

‘Another financial crisis!’   

He called out, with more than a note of sarcasm, which did not need any reply, other than a disinterested:   

‘Is there?’    

She went back inside the living room, and went to turn the television off, as the announcement of the impending declaration from government leaders and world banks were being repeated:    

‘Won’t make any difference!’   

She shouted over the noise of the 

TeleVision:   

‘…never does!’   

#She left the house soon afterwards.   

3. He.    

He took the stairs with the children, two-at-a-time one in a pushchair, the other just learning to walk, and they headed-off together for The HERE&NOW Corner Shop.   

Turning at the top of the road, pushing the baby buggy uphill, the as if unmade pavement now, in disrepair.  

Showing, the lack of maintenance through the good times, as well as the now financial recession, austerityies desperate times. Telling The Walker as He and She said to each other in jest the children laughed at that…Child no-longer holding on to the buggy called-out to:   

‘Hold on to the buggy’ answering the constant questions:    

‘What is this?’, and: ‘What is that?’ at the same time and having to say:    

‘Be careful!’ every second, and:   

‘Stop! making me have to say:   

‘Be Careful’ every second!’  and they giggling together, at what, he knew not what.   

Not even imagining a time when he and She would not be going to work, and the-children to school and nursery, then keeping them in Our-Dotage: going to pick-up the fallen. 

Walking running-off child grabbing the perambulator again, and continued walking hand-in-hand on at the road:   

‘Do Not Walk!’ pictured then:  

‘Do Not Run!’   

The walking-child only hearing the last-word as usual:   

‘Run!’ to the other-sibling: 

‘Walk!’ and the-other wondering what all the shouting was about, and running:   

‘Stop! at the edge!’ hearing all the words this time: more thoughtfully the-elder:   

‘O.K?’ then:   

‘Walk. O.K.!’ trying out these new words heard from them and at school.   

‘Walk. Stop!’ and stopping in the middle of the pedestrian pavement.   

To get collided into and rolling on the ground giggling in the middle of the road! getting-up and running-off laughing, looking backwards,   

‘STOP!’   at the corner, turning into the next junction:   

‘Stop! at the Road! Kerb. Pav(e)ment…pedestrian…Path.’ 

He catching up, pushing the pushchair ahead, the walker hanging-on, over the kerb and into the road.  

Looking both ways, and then both ways again.  

Then back again, one last way this time: too quickly…going to Run! the way the traffic was headed, moving slowly, one car stopped, busy with traffic and pedestrians a polite hand to let them across, to a wave returned.   

Watching-out, for all three; and to the oncoming-traffic split by traffic-lights commanding:  

Stop, Start, or   

Pause…to the other side to the other safety-kerb:   

‘Walk!’  

Children chasing on ahead to HERE&NOW Corner Shop.  

The ‘little-one’ in the buggy trying to get out to follow, shouting, and pointing with one, then both indexfingers, toward the road:   

‘Taxi!’ swivelling around almost falling-out.   

Pointing, ahead:   

‘Taxi-Bus!’ the other returning, giggling:   

‘A Taxi!’ correcting POSHish country teacherly-voice, and then it seemed as if they passed the: 

‘Shop!’ pleading verbally and non-verbally tugging and whining for sugary sweets:   

‘The-HERE&NOW!!’ the other:   

‘Helicopter!’ shouted-heat camera-singing and pointing and swiveling around again: 

‘Sweets!’ categorically usually not until they came home from school and nursery.    

Even then only some days, and if they had been good at school or nursery. But always worth a try…. pointing jumping up-and-down, on the buggy the other falling-out of buckles unbuckled by the older one:  

‘As long as you two be-have yourselves today, and they’re not too-bad for your teeth, and you clean your teeth!’ they knew that.    

Giggling both, all the more, at some reference only they knew.   

To the words, the noises, and the tone of voice, the bedtime:   

‘Clean your teeth!’ pause:   

Properly!!’ The older-one repeated, and they went into more fits of giggles into the Newsagentcomegrocers and confectionary shop and sometime tobacco cigarette and Alcohol&Tobacco FAGS&MAGS. licensed off-licence. FOOD&FUEL. Where He, and She, and They stopped each morning, for bread, or a newspaper. On the way to Nursery&School, when it was His turn, always the possibility of both half-mythical and real: after-school sweets maybe as well.  

As they crashed through the door the older one getting deliberately, or so it seemed in the way of the socalled by the sarcastic sardonic caustic almost-Elder ‘Baby-Buggy’ bragging  asserting rights over the other smaller and weaker and re-leased both leaning-up at the shop-counter not un- usually; but, always pre-dictably in the morning rush-hours with so many other things to think about the only– thought un-able to think about anything-else:    

Children! Shopping tonight? outloud: 

‘Children! Shopping tonight! Newspaper? Teeth-rotting Sweeties?’ The buggy almost tipped over in the  raucous, the older one falling over the younger, strapped-in, before strained at the straps, snapping painfully- back.   

Letting out an ear-piercing yell. The Older-One: still giggling, until the younger stood lashed-out as only younger siblings know how too and the older one let out a Yell! then a Scream! apparently exaggerated explication of pain from both now and claims of un-fairness (I)d(i)ot! StooooooopPID! etc.   

‘Come-on you’re the Older One, you should know better! Do you have to have to fight and argue over everything! No sweets!’ and then he knew, as soon as He said that that he was A Beaten Man.   

A yet louder exclamation set-up.  

While the younger looking on in glee, quieted and puzzled, twisted turned looking upwards to The  

Father; for some resolution to the questioning plea and fell out of the buggy, unbuckled:   

‘Me a’ well?’   

Looking up from the floor, the older standing and going to stamp on the younger, smiling sweetly now, the other sprawled on the floor as if felled:   

‘Smiling Assassin!’   

He called-out from the front of the shop, in reference to the older child, and to   

The Shopkeeper who was stacking shelves from remaining stock.  

He, holding-up the regular National-Newspaper, the Shopkeeper called:   

‘Blind-Assassin(s):’ looking at the newspaper on the counter-pane:   

‘Botched. Act-of-Terror!’ pointing to the front-page of one of the ’paper-rags display(ed.):  

BOTCHED ACT OF TERROR! and   

State-sponsored. And 

Qaeda ’Ban The-Markets…    

‘I know.’ nudging toward the TV screen playing silently with caption banner date/time/place: 

‘You may as well keep that…’ to the loose-change coins being handed over the counter:  

‘…it will be like one of those Free-Ones!’ hearing, and not listened-to until later scanning the headline:              

WORLD MARKETS IN TURMOIL!  the money left on the shop-counter chuckling when the remark-   

realised:   

‘No, I got it!’ minding:  

The-Children who were not fighting but pretending to steal, sweets, not knowing any better yet, knowing better; laughing, and looking obvious.   

The Shopkeeper bagged and handed over most of what it was they-wanted, pointed at with shrill voices  

still:   

‘There you are, for later…your Dads’ change!’ the customary-sweet as a-counter-gift now in-change sometimes anyway for a small note passed across the counter.  

From the Father and then the Shopkeeper to them and then him:   

Daddy keep sweets…for later.’   

The Children looking pleased, and anxious-also, that they too might have to ‘keep-it-for-later’ with only the then-conditional:   

‘And only if you are Good To-Day All Day.’   

The emotional and ethical merged into puzzlement. Sweets given to the father-patiently waiting to get away to nursery, school, and work. Again consternation, put-on, by the older child, to the younger. Pouting, dropped lower-lip. Acting-out, pretending, face pulling puzzled-at and copied by the younger. Both suddenly laughing at this, and between themselves at something they did not really know what it was to be Good or: All-

Day, or To-Day; how, or what, it was, to attain this; understood, one of sOh-many, s0-many, different-way(s)…   

4. The Banker and The Clerk.    

The investment merchant-Banker sat-back and glanced across at the administrative accounts’-Clerk, sat-in the opposite seat, a fixed-table between travelling on this same-train same-time, same-carriage. For the-Clerk the same-seat, if that or any other was to be had amongst the everyday commuters seated and a few standings; today, usually crammed-in each weekday, early-morning into The-City.   

For the-Banker, this day too-early for the usual-reservation. With, or today without, waiter-served breakfast, or a free-morning newspaper. Only those freely given-away and piled-up in the station forecourt to be taken-away that had to be paid-for anyway by publicising the latest model and version, and most reasonablyies priced.  

Like copies of The Big Issue sold-on by Homeless-people in Metropolis’ around the world: no such thing as a free-lunch the-Banker reasoned.   

First-Class: The Financial-Newspaper paid-for anyway by The Railway Company: Public-Private Infra- 

Intra Structur(ed.):ticket-seated and breakfasted comfortably with:    

The-Financial Newspaper at massively dis-counted market-rate cost-price freely as-advertising encouraging in-someway paid-for, and for: returns…on-credit.   

The Newspaper could be easily afforded, anyway. Today’s loss-leader, tomorrow’s winner paid-for upfront from the station kiosk, day upon day. The Newspapers Times In-Corporate-Investment: at-least knowingly borrowed-on:perma-Credit: Merit: StaffCost(s): paid-off and on continuing steady-sales to be recouped; shorted: Shorting bets on wall st etc stocks doesn’t matter whate currency against currency cost-price selling change: 35:00 change :43 etc. supply-demand delivery  daily and long-termwork- investment…achieved…pay-back:   

Today, The Newspaper not given-away with the extortionately and exclusively permissive over-priced pass-paid for this day into the City’ Stock-Exchanges and Financial-Markets.  

Staff-costs (some) and paper&inks (some,one) red-top commie or capitalist broad-sheet side-issues to distract worked-well.  

Included free advert-magazine as affecting the World, obviously.  

The Annual-Executive rail-ticket and newspapers paid-for, whether used, read(ed.), or-not.    

This day the first train out and apparently between all carriages only Standard-class available.    

A single First-class carriage was filled-up quickly by anyone who had a ticket and conceivably some who did-not: there were no-tickets being checked or paid-for apparently the barriers left-open and inviting all- comers…  

For the-Banker, for another-time that morning, something mildly, now-seconded, and markedly unusual. The earlier, when the radio alarm-clock had switched-on routinely with the early-morning fishing, farming, road, and rail conditions.  

Airline and shipping delays, arrivals, and departures, and speculative forecasts: weather-reports, from around the world.  

Local, and global, political-economic and media-news: with the previous-nights’ closing market-prices from around The World…there had been developments overnight, that needed attending-to.   

From the emptying platform, the-Banker and the-Clerk boarded the train together more or less equal.  

The-Clerk with a Free-Advertising Newspaper and Headphones, plugged-in to a mobile Media-Centre. TheBanker with a bought-copy of The Financial-Newspaper from the trains’ limited half-empty double-decker, food and drinks re-freshments’ trolley.    

Having taken the first seat-available in the nearest Standard-Class compartment coupled with a foulstench reeking drain-leaking latrine literally retching between the brown and grey-green patterned-seats along the narrow aisleway, the-Banker waving the newspaper ahead as if to clear-the-air.    

Un-wavering when shunted across by the next-passenger inline, to the only vacant window-seat glanced across-to and sedentarily leaned-forward across the table between them and asked of the-Clerk, already sat downopposite:   

‘So, what do you make of it all, then?’ in the customary easy clear voice of one-born with the interrogative confidence of swift appraisal.   

As in-stantly as-if mysteriously-accusatory…as if with some felt need for validation-tested violentvalediction, justification, testimony, guilt?   

Even before any evidential fact, or fiction?    

With a self and other-deceiving finality, justifying, with instant-conviction…but of who? By whom?  Despite the original opening-question, it seemed as if with no real right-of-reply. The initial conversationalquestion asked as if intended-not to be replied-to or any other-mindedly mitigating circumstances or any answer-at all, particularly, or generally, listened-to.   

Or so the younger-Clerk surprised to be spoken-to then considered: perhaps like a nature-nurture kind   

of thing? Possibly a-Plebeian enquiry? Selected-standard flagged with no-probation the-Clerk decided: more likely a command, to make something of IT, and to-be-taken-notice-of.   

Notice-given of anyway dis-regarding of the possibly-paranoid maniacal rhetorical-answer awaited, or  

not, by either, or Both, regardless of the-Other: The subtler-Inquisitor? The Quicker to-the- Draw?

BanditQueen? The original-recipients by-assumption looking-up from a streaming mobile smart-phone camera and videogames-console: USB-4slot-machine…game: WarFair4.com downloading… 

                 Botched Act-of-Terror!    

PER (personal electronic reader)/de-pocketed-information-recorded singularly removing the ear-phone microphone-socketed-lead off-line searching for the source of the mildly-irritating openly questive-words’ spoken re-corded electron positron negative neutral proton-core still as directly-to, or so it seemed to the-Clerk, in almost immediate reply:    

‘Don’t know what to make of, what?’ then:   

‘Senseless.’ as to The-Banker as to The Newspaper  headline shaken-out, the whole carriage could now view.  

The-Banker sat-back purposefully, purportedly, and provocatively, to-unfold The Financial-

Newspaper with the headline outermost, upper-most:    

WORLD MARKETS IN TURMOIL! and seen again that photograph taking up the whole of the rest of the grey-top printed front-page remaindered, pictured in the minds’ eye…  

Now, turned inside-out and with a-staring squeezed blink of the eyes, fumbled as if in a freak storm, a blown umbrella, quickly folded-away.   

To the-Clerk: hung-out to dry: having seen earlier the front-page photograph, and one-liner top- headed:  

WORLD MARKETS IN TURMOIL!  

re-conceived on-line connected…down-loaded and  up-dating second-to-second in a milli-second.  Minute-tominute mobile-version uploading freely…with- advertising:optional: Freeview choice feeskipping…   

The-Clerk looking-down and into the-same recently concealed picture, and slowly re-storing from browsing-history as accurately acutely as-depicted. As verifiably veritably un-faked up-dated…un-tampered with: mobile cell-phone-photographed syndicated and World-Wide-Web: networked-scene: as at the end of the previous day: the-City: stocks and bonds’ markets as then as now: seen news-printed and pictured from the evening before: a litter-strewn as old ticker-tape across The Investment Merchant Bank Trading-Room floor.    Forsaken, and an unforgiving-blankly waiting-screen strap-line banded:   

Markets Closed. Markets Closed. Markets Closed…the single-slogan as about to go up or down was not possible to tell diagonally from one corner of the screen to the other perhaps tangentially-to slip-backwards flickering erratically across continuously stuttering…across perhaps, another:   

Markets Closed.   

Only-slightly blurred from the-top aloft above, or below, the perfect: the-normal midway (i)deally positioned not at the-extreme outer-fielded or even ever truly evenly-centred: but as inside-out and now, as

flickering-stilled.   

As then, as now: as if no-longer exciting or existent now, as if no-longer exc(i)(t)(ed.) as of now, and then, no-longer anymore. Un-changing ex-change…in-flexibility flexibility(y)ies…  

Ever more exchanged until stopped perfectly still in its tracks, nowhere at all.   

Except: now, there: only as stop-framed time-up: bleeped…    

Cinematographically stilled, to be recorded, and repeated any movement as any-moment only impendent…  In the-cloud…independently that bold bland statement on-hold nonetheless-memorific-ally fuzzily held inabeyance:   

Markets Closed…shimmering-pixelated grid-table mapping diagrammatic…a flickering…    A coming-together. As a vertiginous horizontally remote-geometrically sited as a new dawn held rising, over the Worlds’-Edge. The-Cityscape-skylinedi-verting…   

             >Banking-details…scans scams threateningly un-throated un-declared-bribery and corruption and fraud on-consultancy political lobbyist and management-only commission-contracts government ministers hostaged hi-jacking debt-ransoming-deals projected de-regulation founded confidence unfounded de-evidenced peculiarly…self-supply chain financing de-mand(ed.) goods&stocks on the Stock-Market:L    

Optimism, pessimistically keeping quiet: the-private/public purse: tax-dodging as if this would be enough to boost-real confidence on-fixed and unfixed fiddling violins screeching burning-figures re-vealed:               

> Weaknesses:… Strengths and:… sub-titling screen-fantasy theme: distinctive emblematic  

Corporate-Creations: owning dis-owning any-real identity or real-personality patched-together bufferzone: video-text typeset: cast-role freely-played-ambiguously between Good-and-Evil.    

Between:    

‘O.K.’ and not too-bad least-worst:   

‘One lowest common de-nominator:’ 

‘…on-price…’  and another and downright-incorrectly dis-honestly and  non-rightly irresponsibly: sealing: stealing  

The-Deal: Generic-key:  Designer-rip-off: online re=peat  pre-scription: proscription un-fair in-clination pre-judice one-pergroup(ed.) not-set 

Dialogued-Speech:   

Options: with-structure and series arcade-style deviation from the normal…  too  complex-to-  

#control if at all cutting-edge cut: …  

             >To: the Cit(y)ies: How We Live: 50-50 countryside more or less where and between each-other: with people we look like who we think looks like ourselves. We ghettoize whether in the City or Countryside families living close or close to close to until they, we feel less, or more, than 20-25% we feel un-comfortable, threatened or angry.  

              <Then, we move, or we move, anyway, somewhere with a higher perceived proportion, as ourselves. 

Through the wall(s): the closest neighbour family and friendship(s) solar-sailing and re-turning daily  

Community-Street: weekly, monthly, and for years on-end for: Many Millennia on the Globe. Between the Sun  and Moon: Lunar drawing-onto  

Land and into the Skies. Dinosaurus  

Birds and:  Space-Red: Sea-Monster! Black Wall Street:

virtual water trade: fiscal-fear based training4life

WARFAIR4

‘Now Green-Blue Oceanic.’ 

‘Fast and E-motional.’

‘Technological and Fiscal ex-pan(s)(i)on… ‘ 

‘Printing-Money…’ screen-pixelated:   

‘Stamping-Feet!’ 

‘Clasping-Hands…perhaps, bringing the-City down!’ 

The-Country? Whole-Continent(s): spread like amoeba  bacteria cytoplasm lichen on the surface…into the air and space-breathing

Glaciers below:    

‘Iced-up.’

‘Market(s).’  

‘Warming-warnings…’ 

‘Melting-away…’

Part One: The Day the Markets stood still…   

Published at M.Stow11.Wordpress.com  

1. She.    

‘It is like living in a rabbit hutch’ She often said emphatically and metaphorically, and He replied with a shrug, nothing to say in reply. It was; and it would take long enough to pay for. Four rooms. Eight-floors up, eight flights of long turning concrete rubbish chute and stairs, and fire escape, for when the elevators did not  function anyway, which was often and took days sometimes to repair.  A balcony open passageway at the front looking over the street below, now starting to become busy with traffic. They had lived with his parents for a time, and then after they were married, in a small rented flat in The City, before they needed to afford   

somewhere to live together, and to bring-up their two small children.   

Both saved, and with some financial help from a relative (deceased) they had managed to get this place. When the housing market was ‘buoyant’, and mortgages easy to get. The Home was bought with a loan, a promissory note, deposited and co-lateraled together with their combined lives and the home itself. They were

afloat.  

            Both worked to pay-off the loan, which although it was supposed to re-duce each year did not seem ever to keep up with pay and prices. The loan would anyway be paid-off many times over if they were ever to pay off the debt.   

             If this place was ever to become their own owned nothing to pay-back; then, if they managed to keep paying-off the loan for the ‘Shelter from the Storm’ as they called Home.   

            That they did not actuarily now own, and may not ever, actually own, lose-lose. To sell-back at Market Price, the difference between the paid-back buying-price and selling-price, and of which they would have lost completely to The Bank…

The Mortgage Company.    

Their Home-Mortgage rent no(t)()-insurance their assured-pension against dire-poverty and homelessness.     

No social-recourse and be homeless, to parents and over-crowding again, or with friends similarly fixed, sofa-surfing their home, such as-it-was de-faulted, re-possessed. A two-bedroom apartment, she thought of: kitchen, lounge, shower-bathroom toilet and tiny balcony onto the world below, between them and the sky above. Each day, each month, and each successive year into the unthinkable future; two-thirds of two-lifetimes at least, two-thirds every month of what they were both paid-in wages-for-work earned. 

She did the household accounts, and she knew.   

The Home. The Loan. Would have been paid for several times over by the time if ever it became theirs and The Childrens’; and perhaps even their Grandchildrens’ by the time the shared-property many-floored building was un-inhabitable, de-molished land let-again, built-on freehold not-leasehold extended for-bonus payment un-earned…re-build in the new style, in a traditional place, or otherwise breaking into farmland and ocean beyond.  

              But that is the nature of the human animal, is it no? To do over, and be done-over to again and again she thought: want more and more, for less and less and in the quiet mind wandering moment of pillared door, a room, a table, a bed let go and a bed sheet left behind ready to be buried with perhaps as they did in the olden- times shrouded as now by thin curtains pulled-back.   

Each-Day: like a two-step forward and quick-step fox trot later backwards one-step…   

Home and Away worked to pay-off the loan on the house and to pay for and cook food, with bills and extras, clothes, and nights-out occasionally.   

              Maybe once a month, or not at all.     

Then He had been laid-off work at The Bakery.    

Three-day-week and three day’s wages.   

The Home mortgage was re-negotiated and they continued struggling to pay-off the loan and other loans, credited and directly debited debt from what they both earned together.    

There was never an issue of who would earn more, and be the main breadwinner, they both earned more or less the same low wages as most the people who worked and they would do the most caring, of each other, and the children: the unpaid responsibilities shared around the home, and in the world of work.    

Shopping and holidays and other friends and family out there. All indebted, or in credit day2day week to week, month to next month, years, minute-by-minute.    

They were equal, without even having to think about it or confront societies and others’ false expectations of gender and families. They were equal in debt and credit, and supported each other’s frail and fragile egos with a natural equanimity respectful and loving…   

Each contributing their best and differently, in-differently to make the whole, whole.   

It’s not all doom and gloom She did often think, and he tried not to think on it.

The homily homely claustrophobia only had to be relieved by going out. To the cinema, to a bar or restaurant. But that was not very often de-finitely now there were children as well.    

Sel-dom. did extras make their mark, clothes bought carefully a piece at a time, re-placement rather than extravagance. The cupboards filled with groceries and emptied by the time the next weeks shopping is needed and the next

week’s earnings…already spent.   

              *

She was awake, first this morning, and she got up from the bed on which he still lay awake but not yet awake enough to leave its’ nigh-time warmth. She went through to the next room. The bedroom led across the narrow-passage to the living room, which led directly to the tiny gallery kitchen and balcony on one side and door to the front room, on the other side balcony corridor and more doors along. Except it wasn’t the front-room, exactly; only, unlike the ‘front-room’ of her childhood playing on the street and door directly to the rugged ragged matted smell of cooking from the stone wall white-washed country kitchen.  

             Upstairs two bed-rooms and on the gallery landing for the children and a closet room to flush away with a basin of water from the kitchen sink-tap and toilet-well into the slurry sump, where you could hear it ‘slurry’ all the way down, filtered to spray on fields all around; and then back downstairs to replace the water from the kitchen-tap and outside clean-well.    

Pumped-up from the well, refilling the fired china clay bowl for washing and zinc-metal bucket, ready for the next use.    

Log grabbing toughened steel plasma-cutters hydraulic-ram chassis panel welded together. Expertly put-together giant wheels axle brake.    

Pumping-oil to cool the engines’ turbo diesel s-carbed grapple telescopic arms the claw car-crusher  mattress-shredder then the skid-board tracking carbon-fibre e-road automobiles solar panels settled wind farming blades and wave-machines generating heat&power and swimming in clean-air&water:    

> Low-No: installation& maintenance#

<Cost yr/yr.  

Apparently, free.   

At her first childhood home, bed-time children first, then the adults. Rats nested runs, beetles and cockroaches were kept away by the domesticated cats and dogs that shared the yard and house with horses at the local stables for the carts and filed machinery; to ride, at week-end day-off, and many Holy Days. Each week, several times into the market town for food supplies, and the children’s treats. Their whole world a Living Market Place, of Work Trust and Play.     

Now, great enclosed parked superstores and supermarkets and factory outlet warehouse.

Where goods are now transported she thought of: to&fro and by foot and horses’ hoofs carried and motor vehicle, train and massive tanker and container-ship electric like cutting through the air or the hydrogen&helium of outer-space a one-metre flight through nothingness 

baited   

> One-click: Low-No-cost subscription no-way out… 

< N/nnn…paid-up…again&again.   

From the docks and airport, at the city harbour hub humming away, remote yet directing everyday life, everywhere.    

Exorbitant-Political    

Business-Trips   

Media-control:

Holiday Passengers, and Freight Cargo.    

The affordable flight, to get-away from-it-all: a change; a charge necessary move, once in a while, and not at-all. 

Every year; but, to visit family here and there and elsewhere, or else you’d go stir-crazy.     

Do a night-time flit, flip! leave the rent, the mortgage, un-paid.    

Only, to otherwise keep on fighting for the bargains: cheap-est with-in budget, to get through to the Next-day and the day-after-that.   

When debts and fines could not be paid, the debt collector.    

Bailiffs, The-Auctioneer: selling- off of the personal possessions; sometimes, on the Global Markets;   

and then sold-out: the personal; and, T.V. public…    

The laptop computer on-sleep and awakened, opened, placed on the table, booted-up and She blogged  

instantaneously her-thoughts: 

#We all need a roof over our heads…and to: put Food on the Table! without any other word or contextual continuity that did not remain obvious to this early morning.   

Everyone, and anyone in the same and similar circumstances getting the same hastily tapped-out.  

Messages excluding, those without tablet, home or food; and those with patently far too-much.    

Those who had an Administration to do that for them and her-thought continued in the context of the mindful moment and that which we all have to pay extortionately for over and again even when the food is  eaten and the crap washed away there remains a nasty stain, a nasty taste.   

             Original wages sweated over day upon day, and loans ever in negative equity to who?   

Them!   

              Income-Tax&Corporation-Tax paid/un-paid through government-deal(s):    

Extortionate debt-interest credit-profit and volatile prices, losses on last-accounts records ever higher BINGO! and pay…ex-terminating…prices collapsed…looking up, and down again now, not in dejection, but circumspection against ever apparent possible failure, with desperate optimism, toward un-realistic perfectionism.   

Only mechanized buffer-traffic building-up as soon as into a busy rush-hour congestion be-low…   Cars and buses, bicycles, motorbike and motorized delivery truck from here, only another view. From   

two-sides; and every side… the bedrooms along the passage corridor, the sleeping children slept, earlier peeked into soundless in beautiful dream or dreamless seemingly startling worrying death-checked for breathing.   

Crossing from night into daytime TV remotely automatically turned on, confirmation, that   

life goes on…

                *

The living-room she entered bore all the chatter and the silence of one who listens. Still and safe, cosy and secure. The other rooms took over the emotions and needs: sleep and food, love and silly serious and abated arguments.

The central room, the central chamber, looked on and awaited eventual, almost inevitable, but never certain re-conciliation, and rest. Indulged-in social-(e) vents, noisy chatter and quiet evenings indoors. The furniture was adequate and filled the room. Table, chairs, television, a drawer and shelved cabinet standing against a wall, displaying various special icons; plastic flowers family photographs in frames, a portrait of a film star, or a print of a famous oil painting.   

Ornaments, statuettes, figures of worship and of novelty. The furniture, the infrastructure, from the livelihoods and eventually the roof over our heads…’in over our heads’ heard as if originally spoken.  

There were unopened envelopes and cajoling leaflet advertisement:   

Kill your debts! Die debts!     

she thought of letters and bills for payment, propped up behind a ticking clock. There was a picture postcard from someone-else’s holiday forming a picturesque frontage to hide the stack of demands for reply and payment which lay beyond.   

She-drewback the curtains and looked out of the window across the balcony, with its unflowering plants growing in flower-pots. There was a real still rising mistiness outside from the early morning warming; 

and she gazed over an area where many lived, and it seemed to her, this morning, where they too just only lived-out their lives: day to day, week to week, minute-to-minute…   

They too thought to-themselves as she looked-out onto the dawn of a gradually opening new day that the world must have always been this way.    

2. They.    

They had stayed together and with two little ones, one of each, girl and boy by the time they’re both about to be in school, they could not risk another to bring up, and the cost of it. They only hoped they would hold on to their jobs and they worked hard. Difficult hours, and some days-off. When the rota’s didn’t workout for childcare, family or neighbours, parents now friends of the children’s nursey and school friends who lived conveniently nearby, the social network from the cradle to nursery school to work to death to grave.    

They had met when things were starting to get a bit tight, to get difficult again. Meaning the situation for most working families, for those looking for work and those in work things had not got any better; any easier, really. During the so-called Good-Times and both parents were needed in credit and debt, to work to keep the family going. Voluntary social-networks anti-social became all the more significant, to reciprocal SharedCare and   

Circles of Support. With child and adult inter-action social and meaningful Shared-Lives. They had both kept their jobs in more or less ‘essential services’ although

not 

without the job-cuts, asset-cuts longer the hours never-the-less, ever the less, ever the more, when things got difficult all a-round. When the Bakery Factory where He and Family lived&worked, went on three-days week, and pay to match. He, had more time to be with the children, and helped the same with her awkward shiftwork at the garment factory, and later She at the hospital, for the Children, then training there, working there. he had done some building work on the odd-days, to fill-in. She had done some shop-work and garment-making before all the ‘Shop Jobs’ Retail’, were filled,

and not-hiring. Not selling either. Queen of Queues at the cash-tills to no-one at the field-tills home-farm filed for bankruptcy. They had moved to his folks in The City then: suburbs really, inner-urban, something-likethat.   

His mother had worked at The Old Mill and got her a job there; and then Him at The Bakers’ Factory, at the top of the road. When and where, the area they had moved to with Family and friendly neighbours nearby already there: People, their people…   

They had moved-in together; and had kids.    

Social response to industrial tech-revolution generational confuse price/cost value to shareholders, themselves, pensions&Insurances lies broken-trust rent/profit free from well-being gross domestic product&notproduct money…   

HOME. Income2spend from the public/private capital banks channelling opportunities liberal physiocrats benevolent zillionaires…   

Steady. Family Equity Capital Communally taken as given and worked harder for more, less hard for less, but none less than the Universal Domestic Income.    

His father’s family had been transient, transitory migrant millers, horses, wheat and grain, before that, gypsies, owned business.    

Machinery, finding digging the wells, water, oil from the oil swamp, brick building and tarmac road, growing taking fruits and nuts from the side of vegetable and allotment gardens.    

Did well. Moving around farm to farm, funnily enough she thought like Business-People nowadays do…  Looking across the roads, below, leading to The City. To: The Airport to visit: Sales-People: to the Re-tail  

Outlets. Biggest Shops in the World: BSW in other words: Big Business Commuting by-airplane as They might, if They could  afford to. To: go on Holiday. Abroad. They, to meet Clients Meetings’ here and there and everywhere. Cities all   over, to do deals on a massive Global-Scale, then worth millions, now worth billions and trillions quadrillions of whatever the currency.    

Sometimes-dealing, unevenly, unbalanced, in the local and World currencies themselves exponentially   they marked an inverse ever increasing and decreasing rate of ex-change. 

               They took on a Shop Franchise Family-Bank loan to rent and stock and share.   

In the past when the work dried-up, landfill fertiliser, phosphate-polluted arsenic-poisoned wells and rivers and seas and Oceans…    

His Gypsy ‘family ‘moved along’ as they were constantly told.    

Or, stayed with their stores. Shares of the crops of the fields, and water, natural and free from the

Clean-air and water-well waited, weighted looking- for different and more labour Corporate-City: farms&factoryies time&motion…  

               *     

She thought of them, then her own family. Out of work, they always found something. Fed themselves from great-gardens and small-farmyards. When the work was finished, they moved on. When the Great-  

Corporate moved-in, took over, sold-off Master-Slavery Corporate-style servant-salaried first month free wage- worker weekly, daily, hourly by the minute: along the roads and waterways, they, her family, had a farm in the  countryside for a while, and the parents, lived there. Hers. Through the Industrial now Techno-Future: The Soul  of The City commute only tumultuous-Towns and vicious-Villages. Across the River, across the tram tracks,  and railway, by the station. The Heart of the City 

Just beyond The ROAD&RAIL AIR ALL PORTS signage. 

Warehouse&Financial-Quarter  

Settling-in. The-City. Walled and castellated.    

Transport and Trade-hub thronged and His parents self-employed en-thron(ed.) their own bosses;   

contractors, worked-out on the Building Sites of Towering Sky-Scrapers lining: 

The River and lit-up, from the Sun 

Oceanic flag-sails in the wind.    

Her-Family. Employed, not their own boss.    

Both, as themselves, on some land, renting, from they pay. Then, they… He and She eventually, buying:   

Home-Owners, now. Investors in their own future, and their children’s children, and their’s owned, in-return.   

Like: The Home-property itself, capable of being, and being dis-owned.   

Not strictly-speaking   

Legal&General traditional owned anyway.    

#But, for the Mortgage Home Owners Corporations and Companies, and now indebted to sums   

monthly.   

             The-Bank(s). Building and Maintenance Trades. Education, Social-Care and Good-Health first…   taxied to meetings and desks. School, HomeWork. Out-and-Out working: Home-Owners and Private and   

Publicly Rented-Sector: Community Housing-Association(s) and: under-val(u)(ed.):  Gig-Machiner(y): Market- Economy: #1%. To: 9%. To: 90% self-Employed advertising tax-paying costs and prices up and down  depending on what side of the Power-Play had been Won.   

Every second milli-second playing in relation(s) to each other…   

Dead.    

Next. FCUK.    

Call…  

Soon the television was blaring as usual in the morning. In the main room that was empty again for the moment, and beyond where she was now dressing hurriedly, and he was brushing his hair frantically.    

There was the noise of children getting washed and dressed, with incessant commentary and conversation to each other, and any other, or just to themselves.   

To each other a one-way argument. Older to younger incited over some triviality, shouted back in frustration. At that point the only-game-in-town, and to be fought-out until one of them is crying, and the other shouting-the-odds; before calm is brought.   

Evens by one or other parent, supervising, managing, supposedly, to each-other, at least while they all got ready for work, school and pre-school nursery. The sound of the kettle screaming on the kitchen cooker; and television advertisements conveying to deaf ears, and blind eyes, but perhaps receptive memory:   

‘The Best in the World’; Or:   

Longer-lasting’ or whatever the dubious selling point perhaps to be unconsciously recalled later that day, at the supermarket.   

At present they seemed to be of no avail, both rushed to get the children to school, and themselves out to work. To earn the pay that would pay the prices at the Super-Market later that day:   

‘Where is my shirt?’ he called:    

‘Where you last put it!’ she retorted as She entered the living room. She found her shoes under a chair and stopped in front of the television. The networked advertisements ended and the programme returned to the main story of the day:   

‘Today there is no money to pay share dividends, or to buy shares with…’    

She flicked a channel and got:   

‘Group and individual share prices have collapsed or become so high that they have become worthless…’   

‘Confidence has collapsed, debt un-diminished…’  

‘Price increases have been blamed. Increases in pay and pensions have been blamed. Increases in  

Business-Bank Personal-Investment interest-rates and maximizing profit-levels at any cost, have been blam(ed.)   Each of these, has pushed share prices ever upwards. As cost and share prices and shop prices overtake the customers’ ability to pay and the ability to pay pushes prices-up, and costs pushes pay-down…’  

‘Not pay-up&prices down then?’   

             <             >Profit margins narrowed              > Man-Date. Re-captured only by increases in:    

‘EARNINGS!’ 

‘Income…’ 

‘Earned.’ 

‘Cost-Price…’  

‘Exactly.’  

Reading-screen: Interest rates on banking and other loans, have pushed share prices up even further on costs and  price…’ and a view passed across the screen to locked Factory-Gates and closed down Hospital corridor(s0)…    

De-fence: Air: Ports and Sea and Land-Borders: closed to traffic or trade. It did not seem too bad, or even unusual: the Television Experts and announcers liked to make a big deal out of anything She thought: it was their jobs after all. The pictures shifting shift(ed.) to City Office-Buildings.   

Steeled glass to the very Sky! that only a few were being allowed into; and then to the squares and circuses around Town and City Centres. All over the globe, all the streets and roads and highways leading there.   

A TV reporter turned away from the camera, and let the scene, somewhere else: could be anywhere else, speak for itself. In the kitchen radio-reports followed from the stock-markets around the world:   

‘Tokyo Nikkei Shanghai Shenzhen Hang Seng Bangkok: Dubai-Delhi: Bombay: Carib. Africa-  

Saudi-UAE: Israel and Egyptian Stock Exchanges…’  

‘RTS Moscow Deutche Frankfurt Cape-Town London…  and

Canada Stock Exchanges: New York Wall Street and Rio…’  

‘Iran-Dubai: Trading-Port for Oil&Money: Defensive-position(s): Buenos Aires to Lima…’   

‘China to Venezuela and Bolivia.’ 

‘Bots-Wana to Brazil: JSE Securities Nairobi and Nigerian, and Sydney…   

Stock-Exchanges…’ as she went to look for tea-bags. He got the cups out and put some bread under the grill 

to toast.  

            As the cups were emptied and the door was opened to go-out: The Stock-Market Reports were interrupted by the radio-announcer:   

              ‘We have heard in the last few minutes that The International Conference of Governments and World Banks meeting in Geneva are to make statements, at midday mean-time, on the current state of financial affairs across the globe. The Economic Crises’ around the world…’  

They stopped and looked at each other as they heard the announcement:   

‘What will they come up with this time I wonder?’ 

She asked aloud to him and to the radio speaker and as she went to the bathroom door:   

‘Come on you two!’ to the children, and to him in the same breath:   

‘What time are you finishing today?’   

‘On Lates!’ his reply; with a shrug, noticed, as she said:   

‘I’ll have to clock off early then, get a re-placement:’ and She thought another opportunity to sack-me, but if school finishes before work what are we supposed to do?   

‘I’m taking them in, anyway!’ he called.   

‘I know!’, she replied:    

‘We will have to go to the SuperMarket tonight.’ added knowingly: a reluctant necessity when it came  

to it:  

‘Or tomorrow anyway…’ as she kissed him on the lips, quickly, tantalizingly, knowingly this weekly and often daily shopping trip is what they did all this for.    

Along with the mortgage-rent and love of their family and children smiling he went out of the door, onto the communal hallway:   

‘Another financial crisis!’   

He called out, with more than a note of sarcasm, which did not need any reply, other than a disinterested:   

‘Is there?’    

She went back inside the living room, and went to turn the television off, as the announcement of the impending declaration from government leaders and world banks were being repeated:    

‘Won’t make any difference!’   

She shouted over the noise of the 

TeleVision:   

‘…never does!’   

#She left the house soon afterwards.   

3. He.    

He took the stairs with the children, two-at-a-time one in a pushchair, the other just learning to walk, and they headed-off together for The HERE&NOW Corner Shop.   

Turning at the top of the road, pushing the baby buggy uphill, the as if unmade pavement now, in disrepair.  

Showing, the lack of maintenance through the good times, as well as the now financial recession, austerityies desperate times. Telling The Walker as He and She said to each other in jest the children laughed at that…Child no-longer holding on to the buggy called-out to:   

‘Hold on to the buggy’ answering the constant questions:    

‘What is this?’, and: ‘What is that?’ at the same time and having to say:    

‘Be careful!’ every second, and:   

‘Stop! making me have to say:   

‘Be Careful’ every second!’  and they giggling together, at what, he knew not what.   

Not even imagining a time when he and She would not be going to work, and the-children to school and nursery, then keeping them in Our-Dotage: going to pick-up the fallen. 

Walking running-off child grabbing the perambulator again, and continued walking hand-in-hand on at the road:   

‘Do Not Walk!’ pictured then:  

‘Do Not Run!’   

The walking-child only hearing the last-word as usual:   

‘Run!’ to the other-sibling: 

‘Walk!’ and the-other wondering what all the shouting was about, and running:   

‘Stop! at the edge!’ hearing all the words this time: more thoughtfully the-elder:   

‘O.K?’ then:   

‘Walk. O.K.!’ trying out these new words heard from them and at school.   

‘Walk. Stop!’ and stopping in the middle of the pedestrian pavement.   

To get collided into and rolling on the ground giggling in the middle of the road! getting-up and running-off laughing, looking backwards,   

‘STOP!’   at the corner, turning into the next junction:   

‘Stop! at the Road! Kerb. Pav(e)ment…pedestrian…Path.’ 

He catching up, pushing the pushchair ahead, the walker hanging-on, over the kerb and into the road.  

Looking both ways, and then both ways again.  

Then back again, one last way this time: too quickly…going to Run! the way the traffic was headed, moving slowly, one car stopped, busy with traffic and pedestrians a polite hand to let them across, to a wave returned.   

Watching-out, for all three; and to the oncoming-traffic split by traffic-lights commanding:  

Stop, Start, or   

Pause…to the other side to the other safety-kerb:   

‘Walk!’  

Children chasing on ahead to HERE&NOW Corner Shop.  

The ‘little-one’ in the buggy trying to get out to follow, shouting, and pointing with one, then both indexfingers, toward the road:   

‘Taxi!’ swivelling around almost falling-out.   

Pointing, ahead:   

‘Taxi-Bus!’ the other returning, giggling:   

‘A Taxi!’ correcting POSHish country teacherly-voice, and then it seemed as if they passed the: 

‘Shop!’ pleading verbally and non-verbally tugging and whining for sugary sweets:   

‘The-HERE&NOW!!’ the other:   

‘Helicopter!’ shouted-heat camera-singing and pointing and swiveling around again: 

‘Sweets!’ categorically usually not until they came home from school and nursery.    

Even then only some days, and if they had been good at school or nursery. But always worth a try…. pointing jumping up-and-down, on the buggy the other falling-out of buckles unbuckled by the older one:  

‘As long as you two be-have yourselves today, and they’re not too-bad for your teeth, and you clean your teeth!’ they knew that.    

Giggling both, all the more, at some reference only they knew.   

To the words, the noises, and the tone of voice, the bedtime:   

‘Clean your teeth!’ pause:   

Properly!!’ The older-one repeated, and they went into more fits of giggles into the Newsagentcomegrocers and confectionary shop and sometime tobacco cigarette and Alcohol&Tobacco FAGS&MAGS. licensed off-licence. FOOD&FUEL. Where He, and She, and They stopped each morning, for bread, or a newspaper. On the way to Nursery&School, when it was His turn, always the possibility of both half-mythical and real: after-school sweets maybe as well.  

As they crashed through the door the older one getting deliberately, or so it seemed in the way of the socalled by the sarcastic sardonic caustic almost-Elder ‘Baby-Buggy’ bragging  asserting rights over the other smaller and weaker and re-leased both leaning-up at the shop-counter not un- usually; but, always pre-dictably in the morning rush-hours with so many other things to think about the only– thought un-able to think about anything-else:    

Children! Shopping tonight? outloud: 

‘Children! Shopping tonight! Newspaper? Teeth-rotting Sweeties?’ The buggy almost tipped over in the  raucous, the older one falling over the younger, strapped-in, before strained at the straps, snapping painfully- back.   

Letting out an ear-piercing yell. The Older-One: still giggling, until the younger stood lashed-out as only younger siblings know how too and the older one let out a Yell! then a Scream! apparently exaggerated explication of pain from both now and claims of un-fairness (I)d(i)ot! StooooooopPID! etc.   

‘Come-on you’re the Older One, you should know better! Do you have to have to fight and argue over everything! No sweets!’ and then he knew, as soon as He said that that he was A Beaten Man.   

A yet louder exclamation set-up.  

While the younger looking on in glee, quieted and puzzled, twisted turned looking upwards to The  

Father; for some resolution to the questioning plea and fell out of the buggy, unbuckled:   

‘Me a’ well?’   

Looking up from the floor, the older standing and going to stamp on the younger, smiling sweetly now, the other sprawled on the floor as if felled:   

‘Smiling Assassin!’   

He called-out from the front of the shop, in reference to the older child, and to   

The Shopkeeper who was stacking shelves from remaining stock.  

He, holding-up the regular National-Newspaper, the Shopkeeper called:   

‘Blind-Assassin(s):’ looking at the newspaper on the counter-pane:   

‘Botched. Act-of-Terror!’ pointing to the front-page of one of the ’paper-rags display(ed.):  

BOTCHED ACT OF TERROR! and   

State-sponsored. And 

Qaeda ’Ban The-Markets…    

‘I know.’ nudging toward the TV screen playing silently with caption banner date/time/place: 

‘You may as well keep that…’ to the loose-change coins being handed over the counter:  

‘…it will be like one of those Free-Ones!’ hearing, and not listened-to until later scanning the headline:              

WORLD MARKETS IN TURMOIL!  the money left on the shop-counter chuckling when the remark-   

realised:   

‘No, I got it!’ minding:  

The-Children who were not fighting but pretending to steal, sweets, not knowing any better yet, knowing better; laughing, and looking obvious.   

The Shopkeeper bagged and handed over most of what it was they-wanted, pointed at with shrill voices  

still:   

‘There you are, for later…your Dads’ change!’ the customary-sweet as a-counter-gift now in-change sometimes anyway for a small note passed across the counter.  

From the Father and then the Shopkeeper to them and then him:   

Daddy keep sweets…for later.’   

The Children looking pleased, and anxious-also, that they too might have to ‘keep-it-for-later’ with only the then-conditional:   

‘And only if you are Good To-Day All Day.’   

The emotional and ethical merged into puzzlement. Sweets given to the father-patiently waiting to get away to nursery, school, and work. Again consternation, put-on, by the older child, to the younger. Pouting, dropped lower-lip. Acting-out, pretending, face pulling puzzled-at and copied by the younger. Both suddenly laughing at this, and between themselves at something they did not really know what it was to be Good or: All-

Day, or To-Day; how, or what, it was, to attain this; understood, one of sOh-many, s0-many, different-way(s)…   

4. The Banker and The Clerk.    

The investment merchant-Banker sat-back and glanced across at the administrative accounts’-Clerk, sat-in the opposite seat, a fixed-table between travelling on this same-train same-time, same-carriage. For the-Clerk the same-seat, if that or any other was to be had amongst the everyday commuters seated and a few standings; today, usually crammed-in each weekday, early-morning into The-City.   

For the-Banker, this day too-early for the usual-reservation. With, or today without, waiter-served breakfast, or a free-morning newspaper. Only those freely given-away and piled-up in the station forecourt to be taken-away that had to be paid-for anyway by publicising the latest model and version, and most reasonablyies priced.  

Like copies of The Big Issue sold-on by Homeless-people in Metropolis’ around the world: no such thing as a free-lunch the-Banker reasoned.   

First-Class: The Financial-Newspaper paid-for anyway by The Railway Company: Public-Private Infra- 

Intra Structur(ed.):ticket-seated and breakfasted comfortably with:    

The-Financial Newspaper at massively dis-counted market-rate cost-price freely as-advertising encouraging in-someway paid-for, and for: returns…on-credit.   

The Newspaper could be easily afforded, anyway. Today’s loss-leader, tomorrow’s winner paid-for upfront from the station kiosk, day upon day. The Newspapers Times In-Corporate-Investment: at-least knowingly borrowed-on:perma-Credit: Merit: StaffCost(s): paid-off and on continuing steady-sales to be recouped; shorted: Shorting bets on wall st etc stocks doesn’t matter whate currency against currency cost-price selling change: 35:00 change :43 etc. supply-demand delivery  daily and long-termwork- investment…achieved…pay-back:   

Today, The Newspaper not given-away with the extortionately and exclusively permissive over-priced pass-paid for this day into the City’ Stock-Exchanges and Financial-Markets.  

Staff-costs (some) and paper&inks (some,one) red-top commie or capitalist broad-sheet side-issues to distract worked-well.  

Included free advert-magazine as affecting the World, obviously.  

The Annual-Executive rail-ticket and newspapers paid-for, whether used, read(ed.), or-not.    

This day the first train out and apparently between all carriages only Standard-class available.    

A single First-class carriage was filled-up quickly by anyone who had a ticket and conceivably some who did-not: there were no-tickets being checked or paid-for apparently the barriers left-open and inviting all- comers…  

For the-Banker, for another-time that morning, something mildly, now-seconded, and markedly unusual. The earlier, when the radio alarm-clock had switched-on routinely with the early-morning fishing, farming, road, and rail conditions.  

Airline and shipping delays, arrivals, and departures, and speculative forecasts: weather-reports, from around the world.  

Local, and global, political-economic and media-news: with the previous-nights’ closing market-prices from around The World…there had been developments overnight, that needed attending-to.   

From the emptying platform, the-Banker and the-Clerk boarded the train together more or less equal.  

The-Clerk with a Free-Advertising Newspaper and Headphones, plugged-in to a mobile Media-Centre. TheBanker with a bought-copy of The Financial-Newspaper from the trains’ limited half-empty double-decker, food and drinks re-freshments’ trolley.    

Having taken the first seat-available in the nearest Standard-Class compartment coupled with a foulstench reeking drain-leaking latrine literally retching between the brown and grey-green patterned-seats along the narrow aisleway, the-Banker waving the newspaper ahead as if to clear-the-air.    

Un-wavering when shunted across by the next-passenger inline, to the only vacant window-seat glanced across-to and sedentarily leaned-forward across the table between them and asked of the-Clerk, already sat downopposite:   

‘So, what do you make of it all, then?’ in the customary easy clear voice of one-born with the interrogative confidence of swift appraisal.   

As in-stantly as-if mysteriously-accusatory…as if with some felt need for validation-tested violentvalediction, justification, testimony, guilt?   

Even before any evidential fact, or fiction?    

With a self and other-deceiving finality, justifying, with instant-conviction…but of who? By whom?  Despite the original opening-question, it seemed as if with no real right-of-reply. The initial conversationalquestion asked as if intended-not to be replied-to or any other-mindedly mitigating circumstances or any answer-at all, particularly, or generally, listened-to.   

Or so the younger-Clerk surprised to be spoken-to then considered: perhaps like a nature-nurture kind   

of thing? Possibly a-Plebeian enquiry? Selected-standard flagged with no-probation the-Clerk decided: more likely a command, to make something of IT, and to-be-taken-notice-of.   

Notice-given of anyway dis-regarding of the possibly-paranoid maniacal rhetorical-answer awaited, or  

not, by either, or Both, regardless of the-Other: The subtler-Inquisitor? The Quicker to-the- Draw?

BanditQueen? The original-recipients by-assumption looking-up from a streaming mobile smart-phone camera and videogames-console: USB-4slot-machine…game: WarFair4.com downloading… 

                 Botched Act-of-Terror!    

PER (personal electronic reader)/de-pocketed-information-recorded singularly removing the ear-phone microphone-socketed-lead off-line searching for the source of the mildly-irritating openly questive-words’ spoken re-corded electron positron negative neutral proton-core still as directly-to, or so it seemed to the-Clerk, in almost immediate reply:    

‘Don’t know what to make of, what?’ then:   

‘Senseless.’ as to The-Banker as to The Newspaper  headline shaken-out, the whole carriage could now view.  

The-Banker sat-back purposefully, purportedly, and provocatively, to-unfold The Financial-

Newspaper with the headline outermost, upper-most:    

WORLD MARKETS IN TURMOIL! and seen again that photograph taking up the whole of the rest of the grey-top printed front-page remaindered, pictured in the minds’ eye…  

Now, turned inside-out and with a-staring squeezed blink of the eyes, fumbled as if in a freak storm, a blown umbrella, quickly folded-away.   

To the-Clerk: hung-out to dry: having seen earlier the front-page photograph, and one-liner top- headed:  

WORLD MARKETS IN TURMOIL!  

re-conceived on-line connected…down-loaded and  up-dating second-to-second in a milli-second.  Minute-tominute mobile-version uploading freely…with- advertising:optional: Freeview choice feeskipping…   

The-Clerk looking-down and into the-same recently concealed picture, and slowly re-storing from browsing-history as accurately acutely as-depicted. As verifiably veritably un-faked up-dated…un-tampered with: mobile cell-phone-photographed syndicated and World-Wide-Web: networked-scene: as at the end of the previous day: the-City: stocks and bonds’ markets as then as now: seen news-printed and pictured from the evening before: a litter-strewn as old ticker-tape across The Investment Merchant Bank Trading-Room floor.    Forsaken, and an unforgiving-blankly waiting-screen strap-line banded:   

Markets Closed. Markets Closed. Markets Closed…the single-slogan as about to go up or down was not possible to tell diagonally from one corner of the screen to the other perhaps tangentially-to slip-backwards flickering erratically across continuously stuttering…across perhaps, another:   

Markets Closed.   

Only-slightly blurred from the-top aloft above, or below, the perfect: the-normal midway (i)deally positioned not at the-extreme outer-fielded or even ever truly evenly-centred: but as inside-out and now, as

flickering-stilled.   

As then, as now: as if no-longer exciting or existent now, as if no-longer exc(i)(t)(ed.) as of now, and then, no-longer anymore. Un-changing ex-change…in-flexibility flexibility(y)ies…  

Ever more exchanged until stopped perfectly still in its tracks, nowhere at all.   

Except: now, there: only as stop-framed time-up: bleeped…    

Cinematographically stilled, to be recorded, and repeated any movement as any-moment only impendent…  In the-cloud…independently that bold bland statement on-hold nonetheless-memorific-ally fuzzily held inabeyance:   

Markets Closed…shimmering-pixelated grid-table mapping diagrammatic…a flickering…    A coming-together. As a vertiginous horizontally remote-geometrically sited as a new dawn held rising, over the Worlds’-Edge. The-Cityscape-skylinedi-verting…   

             >Banking-details…scans scams threateningly un-throated un-declared-bribery and corruption and fraud on-consultancy political lobbyist and management-only commission-contracts government ministers hostaged hi-jacking debt-ransoming-deals projected de-regulation founded confidence unfounded de-evidenced peculiarly…self-supply chain financing de-mand(ed.) goods&stocks on the Stock-Market:L    

Optimism, pessimistically keeping quiet: the-private/public purse: tax-dodging as if this would be enough to boost-real confidence on-fixed and unfixed fiddling violins screeching burning-figures re-vealed:               

> Weaknesses:… Strengths and:… sub-titling screen-fantasy theme: distinctive emblematic  

Corporate-Creations: owning dis-owning any-real identity or real-personality patched-together bufferzone: video-text typeset: cast-role freely-played-ambiguously between Good-and-Evil.    

Between:    

‘O.K.’ and not too-bad least-worst:   

‘One lowest common de-nominator:’ 

‘…on-price…’  and another and downright-incorrectly dis-honestly and  non-rightly irresponsibly: sealing: stealing  

The-Deal: Generic-key:  Designer-rip-off: online re=peat  pre-scription: proscription un-fair in-clination pre-judice one-pergroup(ed.) not-set 

Dialogued-Speech:   

Options: with-structure and series arcade-style deviation from the normal…  too  complex-to-  

#control if at all cutting-edge cut: …  

             >To: the Cit(y)ies: How We Live: 50-50 countryside more or less where and between each-other: with people we look like who we think looks like ourselves. We ghettoize whether in the City or Countryside families living close or close to close to until they, we feel less, or more, than 20-25% we feel un-comfortable, threatened or angry.  

              <Then, we move, or we move, anyway, somewhere with a higher perceived proportion, as ourselves. 

Through the wall(s): the closest neighbour family and friendship(s) solar-sailing and re-turning daily  

Community-Street: weekly, monthly, and for years on-end for: Many Millennia on the Globe. Between the Sun  and Moon: Lunar drawing-onto   Land and into the Skies. Dinosaurus  

Birds and:   

‘Green-Blue-Oceanic.’ 

‘Space-Red: Sea-Monster! Technological and Fiscal ex-pan(s)(i)on…’   

‘Printing-Money…’ screen-pixelated:   

‘Stamping-Feet!’ 

‘Perhaps, bringing the-City down!’ 

The-Country?’  

‘Whole-Continent(s): spread like amoeba  bacteria cytoplasm lichen on the surface…into the air and spacebreathing-Glaciers below:    

‘Iced-up Market(s)…’  

‘Warming-warning…’ 

‘Melting-away’ 

WarFair4: The Day the Market(s) stood still…part-one:  

Rogue-Citizen: Into The Abyss… Global-Citizen.  

GRIFTER  

GRAFTER  

DRIFTER  

M.Stow©2021  

Copyright M.Stow©2017 M.Stow All rights reserved.  

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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may be given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional free copy for each person you share it with. As you are reading this book: Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. M.Stow 2019.  ISBN13: 9798562679352 Neilson  

Ebook formatting by http://www.ebooklaunch.com  

WarFair4: The Day the Market(s) stood still…  

Rogue-Citizen: Local  

Into The Abyss… Global-Citizen. M.Stow  

Contents  

  1. She.  
  2. They.  
  3. He.  
  4. The Banker and The Clerk.  
  5. Factory Hospital and Home.  
  6. The Accident & Emergency Department.  
  7. Wrecking-Ball.  

Part Two  8. Titanic!  

  • Avatar.  
  • Cannon Fodder.  
  • Rent.  
  • Slaughter.  
  • Brute Justice  14. Global-Den(i)Zen  

Also: Also by M.Stow11

*

If the man and the woman bear their fair share of work, they have a right to their fair share of all that is produced by all, and that share is enough to secure them well-being. What we proclaim is The Right to WellBeing: Well-Being for All! Pyotr Kropotkin (1842 – 1921) The Conquest of Bread; Mutual Aid: A Factor of Evolution.    

*   

The-train engine moved slowly out-from the glass and steel raised-slab new edge-of-Town main-line high-speed railway-platform running alongside the banking blank back of high-street shops, and the station carpark, awaiting return. Into harvested-fields and open-grazed pastures below remaining precipitous pine-forest alongside planted poplar windbreak, solar and shielded, rail and river. Through the trees, the new days’ sun appeared, speared, blinking-awake burst through the carriage   breaking beyond the blue grey staged and staggered, rolled and ranged. From the east-peaked, settling yellow-orange onto the western-hills.   

Shadow-flanking purple-green valleys, and upcountry the grid-framed farmed plains, where the day was already begun. Grey-white

steam lifted across a drying-up  estuary. In thin rain spluttering over an elevated iron-riveted painted girder-bridge, built-on pillars of a deep-red

local stone and brickwork, arched, and breached. With the Suns’-rays the train rattled-on emergent, as through a fog-over a beached river, onto

the other-side of a ravenous gaping-gorge. Over-spilling through the outskirts of  a more recently built-up ancient sea-harbour and river-port, and

suburban edge-of-Town. High-Rise Housing-Project, Industrial-Units, Business-Park, and Shopping-Mall.  

               Home-Furniture. Motor-Car showrooms. Salesrooms, cheap-hotel and motel linked razor-wire fenced, chained-in. A horse-paddock, gated and padlocked, adjacent to a blue-green to red-waiting train-crossing signal. Freight-Train, privileged-over passenger passaged prerogative thundering-by… passenger-Train trundling alongside for now, beside a chequered yellow and black no entry arterial hot tar road weighted heavy and ever busy with ‘bus and coach, cycle and motor-cycle. Car engine chassis and trailer, caravan motor-home articulated juggernaut vehicles, goods and stocks’ container shipments onboard. 

             Onto and beneath the over-passing concrete-highway into, and out of Town. All traffic travelling with almost one accord: to-and-from galvanized corrugated iron-steel and zinc-tin roved roofing, between brick and- cinderblock doorways, loading and unloading bays beneath open canopy entrance letter and number laser bar- coded, and secured.  

            Office(s)&Home(s) air-extracting for the most-part, to the outside world unseen as windowless factories and warehouses between belching cooling-tower, pylon-linking electric-welding  workshop engineering, factory-crafted. Machined and handmade goods, food and furniture, packaged, warehoused, and shipped virtually to-and-from: The-City:  Ports and Portals’ co-modifying in-return. Stockyards stacked-up and in-exchange goods&value-assured  awaiting transport: to-and-from Home&Away…   

Part One: The Day the Markets stood still…   

Published at M.Stow11.Wordpress.com  

1. She.    

‘It is like living in a rabbit hutch’ She often said emphatically and metaphorically, and He replied with  

a shrug, nothing to say in reply. It was; and it would take long enough to pay for. Four rooms. Eight-floors up,   

eight flights of long turning concrete rubbish chute and stairs, and fire escape, for when the elevators did not   

function anyway, which was often and took days sometimes to repair.  A balcony open passageway at the front,   

looking over the street below, now starting to become busy with traffic. They had lived with his parents for a   

time, and then after they were married, in a small rented flat in The City, before they needed to afford   

somewhere to live together, and to bring-up their two small children.   

Both saved, and with some financial help from a relative (deceased) they had managed to get this   

place. When the housing market was ‘buoyant’, and mortgages easy to get. The Home was bought with a loan, a promissory note, deposited and co-lateraled together with their combined lives and the home itself. They were

afloat.  

            Both worked to pay-off the loan, which although it was supposed to re-duce each year did not seem ever to keep up with pay and prices. The loan would anyway be paid-off many times over if they were ever to pay off the debt.   

             If this place was ever to become their own owned nothing to pay-back; then, if they managed to keep paying-off the loan for the ‘Shelter from the Storm’ as they called Home.   

            That they did not actuarily now own, and may not ever, actually own, lose-lose. To sell-back at Market Price, the difference between the paid-back buying-price and selling-price, and of which they would have lost completely to The Bank…The Mortgage Company.    

Their Home-Mortgage rent no(t)()-insurance their assured-pension against dire-poverty and homelessness.     

No social-recourse and be homeless, to parents and over-crowding again, or with friends similarly fixed, sofa-surfing their home, such as-it-was de-faulted, re-possessed. A two-bedroom apartment, she thought of: kitchen, lounge, shower-bathroom toilet and tiny balcony onto the world below, between them and the sky above. Each day, each month, and each successive year into the unthinkable future; two-thirds of two-lifetimes at least, two-thirds every month of what they were both paid-in wages-for-work earned. 

She did the household accounts, and she knew.    

The Home. The Loan. Would have been paid for several times over by the time if ever it became theirs   

and The Childrens’; and perhaps even their Grandchildrens’ by the time the shared-property many-floored building was un-inhabitable, de-molished land let-again, built-on freehold not-leasehold extended for-bonus payment un-earned…re-build in the new style, in a traditional place, or otherwise breaking into farmland and ocean beyond.  

              But that is the nature of the human animal, is it no? To do over, and be done-over to again and again she thought: want more and more, for less and less and in the quiet mind wandering moment of pillared door, a room, a table, a bed let go and a bed sheet left behind ready to be buried with perhaps as they did in the olden- times shrouded as now by thin curtains pulled-back.   

Each-Day: like a two-step forward and quick-step fox trot later backwards one-step…   

Home and Away worked to pay-off the loan on the house and to pay for and cook food, with bills and   

extras, clothes, and nights-out occasionally.   

              Maybe once a month, or not at all.     

Then He had been laid-off work at The Bakery.    

Three-day-week and three day’s wages.   

The Home mortgage was re-negotiated and they continued struggling to pay-off the loan and other   

loans, credited and directly debited debt from what they both earned together.    

There was never an issue of who would earn more, and be the main breadwinner, they both earned   

more or less the same low wages as most the people who worked and they would do the most caring, of each other, and the children: the unpaid responsibilities shared around the home, and in the world of work.    

Shopping and holidays and other friends and family out there. All indebted, or in credit day2day.    

Week to week, month to next month, years, minute-by-minute.    

They were equal, without even having to think about it or confront societies and others’ false   

expectations of gender and families. They were equal in debt and credit, and supported each other’s frail and fragile egos with a natural equanimity respectful and loving…   

Each contributing their best and differently, in-differently to make the whole, whole.   

It’s not all doom and gloom She did often think, and he tried not to think on it. The homily homely   

claustrophobia only had to be relieved by going out. To the cinema, to a bar or restaurant. But that was not very often de-finitely now there were children as well.    

Sel-dom. did extras make their mark, clothes bought carefully a piece at a time, re-placement rather than extravagance. The cupboards

filled with groceries and emptied by the time the next weeks shopping is needed and the next week’s earnings…already spent.   

              *

She was awake, first this morning, and she got up from the bed on which he still lay awake but not yet awake enough to leave its’ nigh-time warmth. She went through to the next room. The bedroom led across the narrow-passage to the living room, which led directly to the tiny gallery kitchen and balcony on one side and door to the front room, on the other side balcony corridor and more doors along.   

Except it wasn’t the front-room, exactly; only, unlike the ‘front-room’ of her childhood playing on the   

street and door directly to the rugged ragged matted smell of cooking from the stone wall white-washed country kitchen.  

             Upstairs two bed-rooms and on the gallery landing for the children and a closet room to flush away with a basin of water from the kitchen sink-tap and toilet-well into the slurry sump, where you could hear it ‘slurry’ all the way down, filtered to spray on fields all around; and then back downstairs to replace the water from the kitchen-tap and outside clean-well.    

Pumped-up from the well, refilling the fired china clay bowl for washing and zinc-metal bucket, ready   

for the next use.    

Log grabbing toughened steel plasma-cutters hydraulic-ram chassis panel welded together. Expertly  Put-together giant wheels axle brake.    

Pumping-oil to cool the engines’ turbo diesel s-carbed grapple telescopic arms the claw car-crusher  mattress-shredder then the skid-board tracking carbon-fibre e-road automobiles solar panels settled wind farming blades and wave-machines generating heat&power and swimming in clean-air&water:    

> Low-No: installation& maintenance#

<Cost yr/yr.  

Apparently, free.   

At her first childhood home, bed-time children first, then the adults. Rats nested runs, beetles and   

cockroaches were kept away by the domesticated cats and dogs that shared the yard and house with horses at the local stables for the carts and filed machinery; to ride, at week-end day-off, and many Holy Days.   

Each week, several times into the market town for food supplies, and the children’s treats.     

Their whole world a Living Market Place, of Work Trust and Play.     

Now, great enclosed parked superstores and supermarkets and factory outlet warehouse. Where goods are now transported she thought of: toandfro and by foot and horses’ hoofs carried and

motor vehicle, train and massive tanker and container-ship electric like cutting through the air or the hydrogen&helium of outer-space a one-metre flight through nothingness 

baited   

> One-click: Low-No-cost subscription no-way out… 

< N/nnn…paid-up…again and again.   

From the docks and airport, at the city harbour hub humming away, remote yet directing everyday life, everywhere.   

Exorbitant-Political Business-Trips   

Media-control: Holiday Passengers, and Freight Cargo.    

The affordable flight, to get-away from-it-all: a change; a charge necessary move, once in a while, and   

not at-all. 

Every year; but, to visit family here and there and elsewhere, or else you’d go stir-crazy.     

Do a night-time flit, flip! leave the rent, the mortgage, un-paid.    

Only, to otherwise keep on fighting for the bargains: cheap-est with-in budget, to get through to the   

Next-day and the day-after-that.   

When debts and fines could not be paid, the debt collector.    

Bailiffs, The-Auctioneer: selling- off of the personal possessions; sometimes, on the Global Markets;   

and then sold-out: the personal; and, T.V. public…    

The laptop computer on-sleep and awakened, opened, placed on the table, booted-up and She blogged  

instantaneously her-thoughts: 

#We all need a roof over our heads…and to: put Food on the Table! without any other word or contextual continuity that did not remain obvious to this early morning.   

Everyone, and anyone in the same and similar circumstances getting the same hastily tapped-out.  

Messages excluding, those without tablet, home or food; and those with patently far too-much.    

Those who had an Administration to do that for them and her-thought continued in the context of the  

mindful moment and that which we all have to pay extortionately for over and again even when the food is  eaten and the crap washed away there remains a nasty stain, a nasty taste.   

             Original wages sweated over day upon day, and loans ever in negative equity to who?   

Them!   

              Income-Tax&Corporation-Tax paid/un-paid through government-deal(s):    

Extortionate debt-interest credit-profit and volatile prices, losses on last-accounts records ever higher BINGO! and pay…ex-terminating…prices collapsed…looking up, and down again now, not in dejection, but circumspection against ever apparent possible failure, with desperate optimism, toward un-realistic perfectionism.   

Only mechanized buffer-traffic building-up as soon as into a busy rush-hour congestion be-low…   Cars and buses, bicycles, motorbike and motorized delivery truck from here, only another view. From   

two-sides; and every side… the bedrooms along the passage corridor, the sleeping children slept, earlier peeked into soundless in beautiful dream or dreamless seemingly startling worrying death-checked for breathing.   

Crossing from night into daytime TV remotely automatically turned on, confirmation, that   

life goes on…

                *

The living-room she entered bore all the chatter and the silence of one who listens. Still and safe, cosy and secure. The other rooms took over the emotions and needs: sleep and food, love and silly serious and abated arguments.

The central room, the central chamber, looked on and awaited eventual, almost inevitable, but never certain re-conciliation, and rest. Indulged-in social-(e) vents, noisy chatter and quiet evenings indoors. The furniture was adequate and filled the room. Table, chairs, television, a drawer and shelved cabinet standing against a wall, displaying various special icons; plastic flowers family photographs in frames, a portrait of a film star, or a print of a famous oil painting.   

Ornaments, statuettes, figures of worship and of novelty. The furniture, the infrastructure, from the  

livelihoods and eventually the roof over our heads…’in over our heads’ heard as if originally spoken.  

There were unopened envelopes and cajoling leaflet advertisement:   

Kill your debts! Die debts!     

she thought of letters and bills for payment, propped up behind a ticking clock. There was a picture postcard from someone-else’s holiday forming a picturesque frontage to hide the stack of demands for reply and payment which lay beyond.   

She-drewback the curtains and looked out of the window across the balcony, with its unflowering plants growing in flower-pots. There was a real still rising mistiness outside from the early morning warming;  and she gazed over an area where many lived, and it seemed to her, this morning, where they too just only lived-out their lives: day to day, week to week, minute-to-minute…    They too thought to-themselves as she looked-out onto the dawn of a gradually opening new day that the world must have always been this way.

M.Stow11.wordpress.com

Warfair4.com

2. Them.

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Warfair4.com 1. SHE

If the man and the woman bear their fair share of work, they have a right to their fair share of all that is produced by all, and that share is enough to secure them well-being. What we proclaim is The Right to WellBeing: Well-Being for All! Pyotr Kropotkin (1842 – 1921) The Conquest of Bread; Mutual Aid: A Factor of Evolution.    

*   

The-train engine moved slowly out-from the glass and steel raised-slab new edge-of-Town main-line high-speed railway-platform running alongside the banking blank back of high-street shops, and the station carpark, awaiting return. Into harvested-fields and open-grazed pastures below remaining precipitous pine-forest alongside planted poplar windbreak, solar and shielded, rail and river. Through the trees, the new days’ sun appeared, speared, blinking-awake burst through the carriage   breaking beyond the blue grey staged and staggered, rolled and ranged. From the east-peaked, settling yellow-orange onto the western-hills.   

Shadow-flanking purple-green valleys, and upcountry the grid-framed farmed plains, where the day was already begun. Grey-white steam lifted across a drying-up estuary. In thin rain spluttering over an elevated iron-riveted painted girder-bridge, built-on pillars of a deep-red local stone and brickwork, arched, and breached. 

With the Suns’-rays the train rattled-on emergent, as through a fog-over a beached river, onto the other-side of a ravenous gaping-gorge. Over-spilling through the outskirts of a more recently built-up ancient sea-harbour and river-port, and suburban edge-of-Town. High-Rise Housing-Project, Industrial-Units, Business-Park, and Shopping-Mall.  

               Home-Furniture. Motor-Car showrooms. Salesrooms, cheap-hotel and motel linked razor-wire fenced, chained-in. A horse-paddock, gated and padlocked, adjacent to a blue-green to red-waiting train-crossing signal. Freight-Train, privileged-over passenger passaged prerogative thundering-by…  

            Passenger-Train trundling alongside for now, beside a chequered yellow and black no entry arterial hot tar road weighted heavy and ever busy with ‘bus and coach, cycle and motor-cycle. Car engine chassis and trailer, caravan motor-home articulated juggernaut vehicles, goods and stocks’ container shipments onboard.  Onto and beneath the over-passing concrete-highway into, and out of Town. All traffic travelling with almost one accord: to-and-from galvanized corrugated iron-steel and zinc-tin roved roofing, between brick and- cinderblock doorways, loading and unloading bays beneath open canopy entrance letter and number laser bar- coded, and secured Office(s)&new-Home(s) air-extracting for the most-part, to the outside world unseen as windowless factories and warehouses between belching cooling-tower, pylon-linking electric-welding  workshop engineering, factory-crafted. Machined and handmade goods, food and furniture, packaged, warehoused, and shipped virtually to-and-from: The-City:  Ports and Portals’ co-modifying in-return. Stockyards stacked-up and in-exchange goods&value-assured awaiting transport: to-and-from

Home&Away…   

Part One: The Day the Markets stood still…   

Published at M.Stow11.Wordpress.com  

1. She.    

‘It is like living in a rabbit hutch’ She often said emphatically and metaphorically, and He replied with  

a shrug, nothing to say in reply. It was; and it would take long enough to pay for. Four rooms. Eight-floors up,   

eight flights of long turning concrete rubbish chute and stairs, and fire escape, for when the elevators did not   

function anyway, which was often and took days sometimes to repair.  A balcony open passageway at the

front,  looking over the street below, now starting to become busy with traffic. They had lived with his parents

for a time, and then after they were married, in a small rented flat in The City, before they needed to afford   

somewhere to live together, and to bring-up their two small children. Both saved, and with some financial help from a relative (deceased) they had managed to get this place. When the housing market was ‘buoyant’, and mortgages easy to get. The Home was bought with a loan, a promissory note, deposited and co-lateraled together with their combined lives and the home itself.

They were afloat.  

            Both worked to pay-off the loan, which although it was supposed to re-duce each year did not seem ever to keep up with pay and prices. The loan would anyway be paid-off many times over if they were ever to pay off the debt. If this place was ever to become their own owned nothing to pay-back; then, if they managed to keep paying-off the loan for the ‘Shelter from the Storm’ as they called Home.   

            That they did not actuarily now own, and may not ever, actually own, lose-lose. To sell-back at Market Price, the difference between the paid-back buying-price and selling-price, and of which they would have lost completely to The Bank…The Mortgage Company.    

Their Home-Mortgage@rent no(t)()-insurance their assured-pension against dire-poverty and homelessness.     

No social-recourse and be homeless, to parents and over-crowding again, or with friends similarly fixed, sofa-surfing their home, such as-it-was de-faulted, re-possessed. A two-bedroom apartment, she thought of: kitchen, lounge, shower-bathroom toilet and tiny balcony onto the world below, between them and the sky above. Each day, each month, and each successive year into the unthinkable future; two-thirds of two-lifetimes at least, two-thirds every month of what they were both paid-in wages-for-work earned. 

She did the household accounts, and she knew.    

The Home. The Loan. Would have been paid for several times over by the time if ever it became theirs   

and The Childrens’; and perhaps even their Grandchildrens’ by the time the shared-property many-floored building was un-inhabitable, de-molished land let-again, built-on freehold not-leasehold extended for-bonus payment un-earned…re-build in the new style, in a traditional place, or otherwise breaking into farmland and ocean beyond.  

              But that is the nature of the human animal, is it no? To do over, and be done-over to again and again she thought: want more and more, for less and less and in the quiet mind wandering moment of pillared door, a room, a table, a bed let go and a bed sheet left behind ready to be buried with perhaps as they did in the olden- times shrouded as now by thin curtains pulled-back.   

Each-Day: like a two-step forward and quick-step fox trot later backwards one-step…   

Home and Away worked to pay-off the loan on the house and to pay for and cook food, with bills and   

extras, clothes, and nights-out occasionally.   

              Maybe once a month, or not at all.     

Then He had been laid-off work at The Bakery.    

Three-day-week and three day’s wages.   

The Home mortgage was re-negotiated and they continued struggling to pay-off the loan and other   

loans, credited and directly debited debt from what they both earned together.    

There was never an issue of who would earn more, and be the main breadwinner, they both earned   

more or less the same low wages as most the people who worked and they would do the most caring, of each other, and the children: the unpaid responsibilities shared around the home, and in the world of work.    

Shopping and holidays and other friends and family out there. All indebted, or in credit day2day.    

Week to week, month to next month, years, minute-by-minute.    

They were equal, without even having to think about it or confront societies and others’ false   

expectations of gender and families. They were equal in debt and credit, and supported each other’s frail and fragile egos with a natural equanimity respectful and loving…   

Each contributing their best and differently, in-differently to make the whole, whole.   

It’s not all doom and gloom She did often think, and he tried not to think on it. The homily homely   

claustrophobia only had to be relieved by going out. To the cinema, to a bar or restaurant. But that was not very often de-finitely now there were children as well.    

Sel-dom. did extras make their mark, clothes bought carefully a piece at a time, re-placement rather   

than extravagance. The cupboards filled with groceries and emptied by the time the next weeks shopping is   

needed and the next week’s earnings…already spent.   

She was awake, first this morning, and she got up from the bed on which he still lay awake but not yet awake enough to leave its’ nigh-time warmth. She went through to the next room. The bedroom led across the narrow-passage to the living room, which led directly to the tiny gallery kitchen and balcony on one side and door to the front room, on the other side balcony corridor and more doors along.   

Except it wasn’t the front-room, exactly; only, unlike the ‘front-room’ of her childhood playing on the   

street and door directly to the rugged ragged matted smell of cooking from the stone wall white-washed country kitchen.  

             Upstairs two bed-rooms and on the gallery landing for the children and a closet room to flush away with a basin of water from the kitchen sink-tap and toilet-well into the slurry sump, where you could hear it ‘slurry’ all the way down, filtered to spray on fields all around; and then back downstairs to replace the water from the kitchen-tap and outside clean-well.    

Pumped-up from the well, refilling the fired china clay bowl for washing and zinc-metal bucket, ready   

for the next use. Log grabbing toughened steel plasma-cutters hydraulic-ram chassis panel welded together. Expertly  Put-together giant wheels axle brake.    

Pumping-oil to cool the engines’ turbo diesel s-carbed grapple telescopic arms the claw car-crusher   

mattress-shredder then the skid-board tracking carbon-fibre e-road automobiles solar panels settled wind farming blades and wave-machines generating heat&power and swimming in clean-air&water:    

> Low-No: installation& maintenance-cost yr/yr.  

Apparently, free.   

At her first childhood home, bed-time children first, then the adults. Rats nested runs, beetles and   

cockroaches were kept away by the domesticated cats and dogs that shared the yard and house with horses at the local stables for the carts and filed machinery; to ride, at week-end day-off, and many Holy Days.   

Each week, several times into the market town for food supplies, and the children’s treats.     

Their whole world a Living Market Place, of Work Trust and Play.     

Now, great enclosed parked superstores and supermarkets and factory outlet warehouse. Where goods are now transported she thought of: to&fro and by foot and horses’ hoofs carried and

motor vehicle, train and massive tanker and container-ship electric like cutting through the air or the hydrogen&helium of outer-space a one-metre flight through nothingness 

baited   

> One-click: Low-No-cost subscription no-way out… 

< N/nnn…paid-up…again&again.   

From the docks and airport, at the city harbour hub humming away, remote yet directing everyday life, everywhere.   

Exorbitant-Political    

Business-Trips   

Media-control:

Holiday Passengers, and Freight Cargo.    

The affordable flight, to get-away from-it-all: a change; a charge necessary move, once in a while, and   

not at-all. 

Every year; but, to visit family here and there and elsewhere, or else you’d go stir-crazy.     

Do a night-time flit, flip! leave the rent, the mortgage, un-paid.    

Only, to otherwise keep on fighting for the bargains: cheap-est with-in budget, to get through to the   

Next-day and the day-after-that.   

When debts and fines could not be paid, the debt collector.    

Bailiffs, The-Auctioneer: selling- off of the personal possessions; sometimes, on the Global Markets;   

and then sold-out: the personal; and, T.V. public…    

The laptop computer on-sleep and awakened, opened, placed on the table, booted-up and She blogged  

instantaneously her-thoughts: 

#We all need a roof over our heads…and to: put Food on the Table! without any other word or contextual continuity that did not remain obvious to this early morning.   

Everyone, and anyone in the same and similar circumstances getting the same hastily tapped-out.  

Messages excluding, those without tablet, home or food; and those with patently far too-much.    

Those who had an Administration to do that for them and her-thought continued in the context of the  

mindful moment and that which we all have to pay extortionately for over and again even when the food is  eaten and the crap washed away there remains a nasty stain, a nasty taste.   

             Original wages sweated over day upon day, and loans ever in negative equity to who?   

Them!   

              Income-Tax&Corporation-Tax paid/un-paid through government-deal(s):    

Extortionate debt-interest credit-profit and volatile prices, losses on last-accounts records ever higher BINGO! and pay…ex-terminating…prices collapsed…looking up, and down again now, not in dejection, but circumspection against ever apparent possible failure, with desperate optimism, toward un-realistic perfectionism.   

Only mechanized buffer-traffic building-up as soon as into a busy rush-hour congestion be-low…   Cars and buses, bicycles, motorbike and motorized delivery truck from here, only another view. From   

two-sides; and every side… the bedrooms along the passage corridor, the sleeping children slept, earlier peeked into soundless in beautiful dream or dreamless seemingly startling worrying death-checked for breathing.   

Crossing from night into daytime TV remotely automatically turned on, confirmation, that   

life goes on…

                *

The living-room she entered bore all the chatter and the silence of one who listens. Still and safe, cosy and secure. The other rooms took over the emotions and needs: sleep and food, love and silly serious and abated arguments.

The central room, the central chamber, looked on and awaited eventual, almost inevitable, but never certain re-conciliation, and rest. Indulged-in social-(e) vents, noisy chatter and quiet evenings indoors. The furniture was adequate and filled the room. Table, chairs, television, a drawer and shelved cabinet standing against a wall, displaying various special icons; plastic flowers family photographs in frames, a portrait of a film star, or a print of a famous oil painting.   

Ornaments, statuettes, figures of worship and of novelty. The furniture, the infrastructure, from the  

livelihoods and eventually the roof over our heads…’in over our heads’ heard as if originally spoken.  

There were unopened envelopes and cajoling leaflet advertisement:   

Kill your debts! Die debts!     

she thought of letters and bills for payment, propped up behind a ticking clock. There was a picture postcard from someone-else’s holiday forming a picturesque frontage to hide the stack of demands for reply and payment which lay beyond.   

She-drewback the curtains and looked out of the window across the balcony, with its unflowering  

plants growing in flower-pots. There was a real still rising mistiness outside from the early morning warming;  and she gazed over an area where many lived, and it seemed to her, this morning, where they too just only lived-out their lives: day to day, week to week, minute-to-minute…    They too thought to-themselves as she looked-out onto the dawn of a gradually opening new day that the world must have always been this way.

WF4.1.1. audio sample

Part One: The Day the Markets stood still…
Published at M.Stow11.Wordpress.com

  1. She.
    ‘It is like living in a rabbit hutch’ She often said emphatically and metaphorically, and He replied with
    a shrug, nothing to say in reply. It was; and it would take long enough to pay for. Four rooms. Eight-floors up, eight flights of long turning concrete rubbish chute and stairs, and fire escape, for when the elevators did not function anyway, which was often and took days sometimes to repair. A balcony open passageway at the front, looking over the street below, now starting to become busy with traffic. They had lived with his parents for a time, and then after they were married, in a small rented flat in The City, before they needed to afford
    somewhere to live together, and to bring-up their two small children.
    Both saved, and with some financial help from a relative (deceased) they had managed to get this
    place. When the housing market was ‘buoyant’, and mortgages easy to get. The Home was bought with a loan, a promissory note, deposited and co-lateraled together with their combined lives and the home itself. They were afloat.
    Both worked to pay-off the loan, which although it was supposed to re-duce each year did not seem ever to keep up with pay and prices. The loan would anyway be paid-off many times over if they were ever to pay off the debt. If this place was ever to become their own owned nothing to pay-back; then, if they managed to keep paying-off the loan for the ‘Shelter from the Storm’ as they called Home. That they did not actuarily now own, and may not ever, actually own, lose-lose. To sell-back at Market Price, the difference between the paid-back buying-price and selling-price, and of which they would have lost completely to The Bank…The Mortgage Company.
    Their Home-Mortgage@rent no(t)()-insurance their assured-pension against dire-poverty and homelessness.
    No social-recourse and be homeless, to parents and over-crowding again, or with friends similarly fixed, sofa-surfing their home, such as-it-was de-faulted, re-possessed. A two-bedroom apartment, she thought of: kitchen, lounge, shower-bathroom toilet and tiny balcony onto the world below, between them and the sky above. Each day, each month, and each successive year into the unthinkable future; two-thirds of two-lifetimes at least, two-thirds every month of what they were both paid-in wages-for-work earned.
    She did the household accounts, and she knew.
    The Home. The Loan. Would have been paid for several times over by the time if ever it became theirs
    and The Childrens’; and perhaps even their Grandchildrens’ by the time the shared-property many-floored building was un-inhabitable, de-molished land let-again, built-on freehold not-leasehold extended for-bonus payment un-earned…re-build in the new style, in a traditional place, or otherwise breaking into farmland and ocean beyond.
    But that is the nature of the human animal, is it no? To do over, and be done-over to again and again she thought: want more and more, for less and less and in the quiet mind wandering moment of pillared door, a room, a table, a bed let go and a bed sheet left behind ready to be buried with perhaps as they did in the olden- times shrouded as now by thin curtains pulled-back.
    Each-Day: like a two-step forward and quick-step fox trot later backwards one-step…
    Home and Away worked to pay-off the loan on the house and to pay for and cook food, with bills and
    extras, clothes, and nights-out occasionally.
    Maybe once a month, or not at all.
    Then He had been laid-off work at The Bakery.
    Three-day-week and three day’s wages.
    The Home mortgage was re-negotiated and they continued struggling to pay-off the loan and other
    loans, credited and directly debited debt from what they both earned together.
    There was never an issue of who would earn more, and be the main breadwinner, they both earned
    more or less the same low wages as most the people who worked and they would do the most caring, of each other, and the children: the unpaid responsibilities shared around the home, and in the world of work.
    Shopping and holidays and other friends and family out there. All indebted, or in credit day2day.
    Week to week, month to next month, years, minute-by-minute. They were equal, without even having to think about it or confront societies and others’ false expectations of gender and families. They were equal in debt and credit, and supported each other’s frail and fragile egos with a natural equanimity respectful and loving…each contributing their best and differently, in-differently to make the whole, whole.
    It’s not all doom and gloom She did often think, and he tried not to think on it. The homily homely
    claustrophobia only had to be relieved by going out. To the cinema, to a bar or restaurant. But that was not very often de-finitely now there were children as well.
    Sel-dom. did extras make their mark, clothes bought carefully a piece at a time, re-placement rather
    than extravagance. The cupboards filled with groceries and emptied by the time the next weeks shopping is
    needed and the next week’s earnings…already spent.
    She was awake, first this morning, and she got up from the bed on which he still lay awake but not yet awake enough to leave its’ nigh-time warmth. She went through to the next room. The bedroom led across the narrow-passage to the living room, which led directly to the tiny gallery kitchen and balcony on one side and door to the front room, on the other side balcony corridor and more doors along.
    Except it wasn’t the front-room, exactly; only, unlike the ‘front-room’ of her childhood playing on the
    street and door directly to the rugged ragged matted smell of cooking from the stone wall white-washed country kitchen. Upstairs two bed-rooms and on the gallery landing for the children and a closet room to flush away with a basin of water from the kitchen sink-tap and toilet-well into the slurry sump, where you could hear it ‘slurry’ all the way down, filtered to spray on fields all around; and then back downstairs to replace the water from the kitchen-tap and outside clean-well.
    Pumped-up from the well, refilling the fired china clay bowl for washing and zinc-metal bucket, ready
    for the next use. Log grabbing toughened steel plasma-cutters hydraulic-ram chassis panel welded together. Expertly Put-together giant wheels axle brake. Pumping-oil to cool the engines’ turbo diesel s-carbed grapple telescopic arms the claw car-crusher shredder then the skid-board tracking carbon-fibre e-road auto-mobiles solar panels settled wind farming blades and wave-machines generating heat&power and swimming in clean-air&water:

<Low-cost- installation& maintenance year-on-year.

Apparently, free. At her first childhood home, bed-time children first, then the adults. Rats nested runs, beetles and cockroaches were kept away by the domesticated cats and dogs that shared the yard and house with horses at the local stables for the carts and filed machinery; to ride, at week-end day-off, and many Holy Days. Each week, several times into the market town for food supplies, and the children’s treats.
Their whole world a Living Market Place, of Work and Trust and Play. Now, great enclosed parked superstores and supermarkets and factory outlet warehouse. Where goods are now transported she thought of: to&fro by foot and horses’ and camels hoofs carried and motor vehicle, train and massive tanker and container-ship electric like cutting through the air or the hydrogen&helium of Space a one-metre flight through nothingness baited
One-click:

>Low-No-cost subscription no-way out…
< N/nnn…paid-up…again&again…
From the docks and airport, at the city harbour hub humming away, remote yet directing everyday life, everywhere.

Exorbitant

#Political

#Business-Trips

#Media: Holiday Passengers, and Freight Cargo.
The affordable flight, to get-away from-it-all: a change; a charge necessary move, once in a while, and
not at-all. Every year; but, to visit family here and there and elsewhere, or else you’d go stir-crazy.
Do a night-time flit, flip! leave the rent, the mortgage, un-paid. Only, to otherwise keep on fighting for the bargains cheapest with-in budget, to get through to the next-day and the day-after-that.
When debts and fines could not be paid, the debt collector.
Bailiffs, The-Auctioneer: selling- off of the personal possessions sometimes, on the Global Markets;
and then sold-out: the personal; and, T.V. public…the laptop computer on-sleep and awakened, opened, placed on the table, booted-up and She blogged
instantaneously her-thoughts:

We all need a roof over our heads…and to: put Food on the Table! without any other word or contextual continuity that did not remain obvious to this early morning.

Everyone, and anyone in the same and similar circumstances getting the same hastily tapped-out
messages excluding, those without tablet, home or food; and those with patently far too-much.
Those who had an Administration to do that for them and her-thought continued in the context of the
mindful moment and that which we all have to pay extortionately for over and again even when the food is eaten and the crap washed away there remains a nasty stain, a nasty taste.
Original wages sweated over day upon day, and loans ever in negative equity to who?
Them! Income-Tax&Corporation-Tax paid/un-paid through government-deal(s): Beltway Bandit Bargains for a contribution: Extortionate debt-interest Profit-credited contribution and voter-volatile prices

Buy-outs.

Losses on last-accounts only profits records ever higher

< BINGO! and pay…

ex-terminating…prices collapsed…looking up and down again now, not in dejection, but circumspection against ever apparent possible failure with desperate optimism, toward un-realistic perfectionism.
Only mechanized buffer-traffic building-up as soon as into a busy rush-hour congestion be-low…

Cars and buses, bicycles, motorbike and motorized delivery truck from here, only another view.
From two-sides; and every side… the bedrooms along the passage corridor, the sleeping children slept, earlier peeked into soundless in beautiful dream or dreamless seemingly startling worrying death-checked for breathing.
Crossing from night into daytime TV remotely automatically turned on, confirmation, that
life goes on…
The living-room she entered bore all the chatter and the silence of one who listens.
Still and safe, cosy and secure. The other rooms took over the emotions and needs: sleep and food, love and arguments. The central room, the central chamber, looked on and awaited eventual, almost inevitable, but never certain re-conciliation, and rest.

Indulged-in social-(e) vents, noisy chatter and quiet evenings indoors. The furniture was adequate and filled the room. Table, chairs, television, a drawer and shelved cabinet standing against a wall, displaying various special icons; plastic flowers family photographs in frames, a portrait of a film star, or a print of a famous oil painting. Ornaments, statuettes, figures of worship and of novelty. The furniture, the infrastructure, from the
livelihoods and eventually the roof over our heads…

’in over our heads’ heard as if originally spoken.
There were unopened envelopes and cajoling leaflet advertisement:
Kill your debts! Die debts!
she thought of letters and bills for payment, propped up behind a ticking clock.

There was a picture postcard from someone-else’s holiday forming a picturesque frontage to hide the stack of demands for reply and payment which lay beyond. She drewback the curtains and looked out of the window across the balcony, with its unflowering plants growing in flower-pots. There was a real still rising mistiness outside from the early morning warming; and she gazed over an area where many lived, and it seemed to her, this morning, where they too just only lived-out their lives: day to day, week to week, minute-to-minute…

they too thought to-themselves as she looked-out onto the dawn of a gradually opening new day that the world must have always been this way.