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SECTION 1
“A DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE”
March 2nd, 1985
It was a Sunday evening in March 1985 that I arrived with the evening flight at London’s Heathrow. The weather was, as expected at that time of the year, miserable. It was cold and a light drizzle was falling. Terence met me at the exit and drove me into the city, to my new home. On the trip I suddenly saw London with new eyes. First I became aware of the mournful estate houses bordering both sides of the M4, the motorway from Heathrow to London; and in the city my attention was caught by the yellow color of the street lighting, something he had never noticed before. London made a run-down impression compared with Hamburg. There were hardly any tree-lined streets, but large numbers of rubbish bins and Indian takeaways, whose very appearance was enough to turn my stomach. Would I be able to settle in here, I wondered secretly. The flat was in Belsize Park in the suburb Maida Vale – it belonged to Cayzer Steel Bowater. A flat owned by the firm, meant for privileged clients from overseas who were staying for an extended period in London. That sort of thing was at that time one of the welcome pleasantries that Lloyd’s broker firms offered their high-status clients. A circumstance that allowed their overseas visitors to live „free“ and to deduct daily allowable expenses for accommodation. They could also discreetly bring along a wife or lover without rendering an account for her. The flat was muffled in a mantle of ostentatious discretion. It consisted of a large combined living room and dining room, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a fully equipped kitchen. All of the rooms were opulently outfitted; in the living and eating areas there were two-seat sofas covered in damask and a dining table made of mahogany with six chairs, in the bedrooms king size beds, pillows and blankets in expensive linen, the kitchen fully equipped with a seating corner, tea kettle, crockery, ironing board - nothing was missing. Twice a week, Terence explained, a cleaner came and Douglas, the porter, was also paid by the firm and willing to iron shirts if asked to do so nicely, as long as it was not for American clients. He had served during the war as General Montgomery's personal seneschal in North Africa, fighting Fieldmarshall Rommel with an Ironing Board. Everything was taken care of, so me, the new arrival could concentrate with full attention on the work. I was impressed. I put my suitcases in the flat and then we went to eat at Mr Moon’s in Knightsbridge, that is still one of my favorite Chinese restaurants and arranged to meet next day.
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