people in the world, would you! Yes, Martha's seen 'em all, Martha's seen 'em all … I looked forward to Martha's visits and she never disappointed me. I think she liked having somebody to talk to. Very early in our conversations she told me she was a widow—just like my Mum. Her countenance had become sad as she'd narrated her woes. She was living on her pension but that wasn't enough to survive on. Hence the reason she was a cleaning woman. She described the events of her wedding day as if it had just been a half an hour ago. She had no children, although over a subsequent cup of tea she did mention a grandson—which was most puzzling. When she described how her husband died, she wept a bit, so I gave her a few bob. I vowed I would look after her a little. I hoped she looked on me as a son. For my part, I looked upon her as being a good substitute for my Mum. It was difficult to imagine Martha looking any different from what she was and is, at fifty-five. She is small and plump like my Mum, but her hair is kept artificially blonde. Her face is extremely mobile when she talks and her eyes almost disappear when she giggles. At any time, her eyes are difficult to see because her glasses are so thick. I suspect their colour is green—two little green peas, so infinitesimally small in that large round face. Actually, now that I think of if and considering the conversation I have heard, Martha is really nothing like my Mum at all. I have been doing Mum a great disservice. Forgive me, Mumsy … But Martha has been good to me, I must admit. She and I are always complimenting each other. I would tell her that her hair was looking nice and she would look at mine and hesitantly say it was looking nice too. However, the best thing of all, was that Martha took an interest in me. She was interested in everything I did and all the sightseeing I would do over the weekends. She was most impressed that I had actually been to the ‘Trooping the Colour’. —You really seen it? she asked, amazed. I've never seen it, she added wistfully. I seen the Queen though. An' did you 'ave to wear a morning suit? Them grey trousers and tails and top 'at and fings? An' did the Queen look nice? Cor, I wish I'd seen it! But I 'ave to live 'aven' I! On one occasion, I showed her my photograph album. I have taken lots of photographs of London to show my Mum when I get back to New Zealand. Martha and I played a guessing game. —Where's that, Martha? I asked. —That's Buckin'am Palace. —Where's this? —'yde Park! —And this? —The Chelsea 'ouseboats! Martha loved that game. Sitting with her that afternoon, it seemed as if I was back home again. Afterward, she was full of information about places I should also see in London. —'ave you been to 'ampton Court yet? No? Cor, you must go there! An 'ow about Kew Gardens? It'll be beatiful at this time of year with all them flowers bloomin'. Me 'ubby used to take me there you know, when we was just first married. An' did you know that lots of people, famous people, live around 'ere? Cor, there's lots of 'em! An' 'ave you seen the Crown jools? I wish they'd throw some over 'ere! Martha was a compendium of knowledge about London. She knew all there was to know about Billingsgate, Petticoat Lane and Bermondsey. Most times, Martha was a cheery soul. Sometimes though, she could become extremely bitter and critical. Some of her shafts she aimed at Mr Henderson; most of the others she aimed at the Common Market and the invasion by what she termed 'the coloureds'. About the Common Market, she used to say: —'oo wants to 'ave them Frenchies over 'ere! All they fink about is sex! About the coloureds, she had just one opinion: —They're just dir'y, Mr Campbell. The whole lot of 'em are just dir'y. They come over 'ere, thousands of 'em an' what do they do? Nofink, that's what! Then they expect the British Governmen' to look after 'em, the blighters. I seen 'em, whole queues of 'em