In London for a few weeks and I have already been here for a few days. Could swear I saw Ken Livingstone in Costa Coffee in Cricklewood this morning. An “oldish”, very casually dressed man, who would hardly cut a dash in the more chic parts of this city, but then cutting a dash was never on Ken’s agenda.
Anyway, there he was, a copy of the Guardian under his arm, coffee bought, and off he went to a nice quiet little corner of the cafe and his, no doubt, daily cognitive engagement with the latest episode of the daily drivel.
Didn’t approach him, of course! Thought about it and, perhaps, bringing up the now months old scandal of his pummeling by the media for his supposedly “anti-semitic” remarks. Thought about it and thought about having a little tête-à-tête about Ilan Pappe, the Balfour declaration, the ongoing ethnic cleansing of Palestine, ….. thought about it, but didn’t.
And then I thought about Winston in the Chestnut Tree Cafe, but then, even if Ken didn’t betray anyone, this “oldish”, very casually dressed man, deserved to be left alone with his cup of coffee and his copy of the Guardian.