en-es  RELECTIONS III
REFLEXIONES.

Una nota biográfica sobre el valor de la vida por Kim.

Parte III.

Poco a poco comenzamos a encontrar fallos en el coche. Aunque nunca lo expresamos claramente, los dos sabíamos en privado que probablemente algo así estaba pasando. ¿Por dónde empiezo? En primer lugar, el tanque de agua potable tenía una gotera. Mientras tratábamos de levantar el coche para poder seguir inspeccionándolo, descubrimos que el coche no tenía un gato; ni ninguna herramienta en absoluto. Por suerte para nosotros no teníamos que cambiar una rueda pinchada. Vaya, no pasa nada, reflexionamos. Podía ser peor.
El problema con esta línea de pensamiento era que era peor, mucho peor. Los dos intermitentes, izquierdo y derecho, dejaron de operar, parecía que el refrigerador no funcionaba, el tubo de gasolina estaba roto y descubrimos que la bomba del agua no, bueno, no bombeaba. Para colmo, el sistema de calefacción del coche no echaba más que aire frío, igual cómo lo ajustáramos. Ahora, eso era un gran problema en el frío.
Para el final del día, con algo de inventiva, y un mínimo de buena suerte, resolvimos la gotera, arreglamos los intermitentes y reparamos el tubo de la gasolina. Era claramente evidente que necesitábamos hacer bastante trabajo en el coche. De todas formas, por el lado bueno, era fenomenal estar en la campiña de Essex.
Como la luz se desvanecía rápidamente, decidimos quedarnos en un B&B por una noche más, si podíamos encontrar uno. Hicimos una comida en un pub en North Weald y allí fue donde le hablaron a Steve de una casa privada que cobraba 18 libras por una habitación doble y desayuno para dos. Su informante le dio las direcciones y nos dirigimos allí nada más cenar.
Bueno, tratamos de dirigirnos allí sería una descripción más precisa porque Steve se equivocó con las instrucciones y pasamos la hora siguiente vagando en círculos. Pasó algún tiempo sin novedades, así que sugerí que volviéramos al pub. Él estaba seguro de conocer el camino. Después, cuando los mismos árboles y señales viales en nuestro interminable circuito comenzaron a parecer màs que familiares, comencé a ponerme un poco furiosa e insistí en que nos volviéramos al pub Queen's Head de North Weald para determinar nuestro camino corecto.
Ahora tengo que señalar que padezco de epilepsia y, en ese momento, no tenía un carnet de conducir, así que Steve era siempre el conductor y yo era siempre el copiloto. Cuando volvimos al pub me aseguré de recibir las direcciones personalmente. Después de eso, huelga decir, llegamos al B & B relativamente rápido aunque, debido al tiempo que Steve malgastó haciendo que nos perdiéramos, eran alrededor de las 10:30 p.m.
El B & B era una casa ubicada en una pequeña granja, curiosamente llamada "Bumbles", y era puro lujo en comparación con nuestro alojamiento en Victoria. Repleto de chimeneas de leña, muebles cómodos y antigüedades, fue una muy buena bienvenida para viajeros cansados como nosotros.
Uno de los anfitriones, otra Joyce, era una alfarera de cierto renombre local y era absolutamente encantadora, al igual que su marido. Después de una charla encantadora, les dijimos que teníamos que levantarnos temprano al día siguiente, les dimos las buenas noches y nos acurrucamos en nuestra cálida cama a las 12:30 p.m.
Al despertar a las 7:45 a.m., tomamos un gran desayuno deliciosamente caliente. Joyce prosiguió a darnos una información estupenda sobre la historia de Chipping Ongar y señaló una hilera de árboles a unos 100 metros de la parte trasera de su casa. Este área marcaba dónde fueron enterradas las víctimas de la peste negra.
Después de dar las gracias a nuestros huéspedes por su hospitalidad, continuamos hacia el norte, en busca de una población mayor donde pudiéramos encargar a un mecánico que realizara las reparaciones necesarias para nuestra nueva casa con ruedas. De camino, hicimos una parada en Greensted Church, la iglesia de madera más antigua del mundo, construida originalmente alrededor de 659 d.C. por los celtas y ampliada por los sajones en 845 d.C. Fue construida con troncos de madera de roble sin pulir más de 400 años antes de la batalla de Hastings y todavía estaba en pie. ¡Increíble!
Después de dejar la iglesia nos dirigimos a la lavandería más próxima para dar a nuestra ropa un lavado más que necesario. Paramos en Brentwood donde compramos utensilios de cocina y algunos comestibles. También compramos una radio para el coche –sí, sorpresa, sorpresa, el coche no tenía tampoco nada de eso– aunque todavía tuvimos que resolver cómo instalarla. Y, por una razón u otra, compré unos zapatos nuevos aunque no recuerdo por qué, o de qué tipo. Recuerdo que tenía botas de montaña y sandalias. Tal vez no me había llevado zapatillas de deporte, aunque me parece muy poco probable. El diario no da más detalles, por lo que a mí, como a ti, nos queda pensar por qué.
Tomamos una copa en un pub de Brentwood donde vimos bastantes punks. En Australia, como en los EE. UU., no se hacía énfasis en el "aspecto punk". Recuerdo haber hablado con Jello Biafra, el cantante y compositor de la banda de punk de San Francisco "Dead Kennedys" sobre las diferencias en la "ropa" punk rock entre los tres países cuando lo conocí en un concierto en los EE. UU. el año anterior, en 1985. Eso era lo mejor de los conciertos punk: eran íntimos, y las bandas siempre eran muy accesibles e interesantes.
El atuendo punk del Reino Unido fue desarrollado por la diseñadora de modas Vivienne Westwood y su compañero Malcolm McLaren en su tienda, "Sex", en King's Road en Chelsea, Londres. Al igual que la música de Los Sex Pistols, la banda de McLaren, estaba destinada a escandalizar al sistema establecido. Con un escandaloso maquillaje de ojos, peinados con crestas, piercings de imperdibles en la nariz, cinturones con tachuelas y collares para perros, y ropa rasgada también a menudo sujeta con imperdibles, era totalmente exclusiva del Reino Unido. Tanto en los EE. UU. como en Australia, los seguidores, en general, solo usaban camisetas, vaqueros y el extraño cinturón tachonado y quizás se alborotaban el pelo.
¡Los punk en el Reino Unido se podían ver a una milla de distancia! Pero, creo, que esa era la idea. Hicieron que muchos británicos se sintieran incómodos, se sintieran amenazados por su aspecto y la aparente agresividad de su comportamiento durante los conciertos que habían visto en la tele. Siempre nos sentimos a gusto en su presencia; no había amenaza de violencia. Todo lo contrario, si acaso estaban contra la violencia. De todos los conciertos punk a los que habíamos asistido, en los EE. UU., Australia y el Reino Unido (y fueron muchos), nunca habíamos presenciado ningún acto de violencia perpetrado por punks, sin embargo, habíamos visto atacar a punks, generalmente por skinheads (Skins) que invariablemente eran nacionalistas de derechas que se habrían sentido como en casa en la Alemania de Hitler. Eran racistas, fascistas antisemitas que eran abiertamente agresivos. Desafortunadamente, los medios y el "hombre de la calle" a menudo los identificaban erróneamente como Punks. Fue una primera experiencia de cómo la verdad se puede distorsionar por los titulares de los medios y, así, transmitida a aquellos que están menos informados. Sabíamos que no era sí. Punks y Skins eran tan contrarios como el día y la noche o, mejor dicho, libertad y opresión.
Salimos de Brentwood y seguimos conduciendo, atravesando un pequeño pueblo donde nos paramos un rato para admirar las hermosas casas techadas de paja. Pregunté a un habitante sobre ellas y aprendí que, no solo cubrir con paja era más caro que un techo normal, solo duraban cerca de 10 años ( eso es si los pajaros no construían en ellos sus nidos antes).
Esa noche aparcamos al lado de la carretera entre Great Dunmow y Great Bardfield en Essex. Habíamos arreglado el equipo en el coche y cocido nuestra primera comida en Inglaterra--unos raviolis ''maravillosos''. Las citas son aconsejables. Steve escribió su nota y, justo porque el diario dice que se trata de una realidad, no significa que sea así. ¡De memoria, teniamos tanta hambre que habríamos cenado con una vieja bota!
Y, allí estábamos. La nevera todavía no funcionaba, pero, con las heladas temperaturas que nos calaban viviendo en un automóvil, apenas importaba. Habíamos comprado dos sacos de dormir en Australia que se adaptaban a una serie de temperaturas. Tenían cremalleras en ambos lados que permitían que el saco se abriera y actuara como una colcha lisa, para un clima menos frío. Estas cremalleras también permitían cerrar juntos dos sacos en un gran saco de dormir doble para ayudar a conservar el calor. Steve exudaba tanto calor que le llamaba '' la estufa con patas''. Cuando el vendedor mencionó esta posibilidad, me enamoré de estos sacos en un instante. No solo podíamos acurrucarnos juntos sino que mi 'estufa' podría mantenerme caliente incluso en las temperaturas más frías. No pudimos probarlo en el B&B de Victoria ya que todos teníamos camas separadas. ¡Ahora era la prueba! Esa noche pusimos nuestros sacos en el formato doble, nos acostamos dentro, cerramos por el medio y fuimos a dormir. El día siguiente iba a ser muy atareado, ciertamente.

FIN DE LA III PARTE
unit 1
REFLECTIONS.
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unit 2
A memoir on the value of life by Kim.
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unit 3
Part III.
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Gradually we started to find things wrong with the car.
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Where do I begin?
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Firstly, the potable water tank had a leak.
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Lucky for us we didn’t have to change a flat tyre.
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Oh well, not so bad, we mused.
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It could be worse.
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The problem with that line of thought was that it was worse, a lot worse.
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To top it off, the car heating system blew nothing but cold air, regardless of the setting.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 3 weeks ago
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Now, that was a major problem in the cold.
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It was clearly apparent we needed to do quite a bit of work on the car.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 3 weeks ago
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Anyway, on the bright side, it was great to be in the countryside in Essex.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 3 weeks ago
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As light faded rapidly, we decided to stay at a B&B for one more night, if we could find one.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 21
His informant provided him with directions and we headed there straight after dinner.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 23
Some time passed uneventfully, so I suggested returning to the pub.
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He was certain he knew the way.
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 3 weeks ago
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On our return to the pub, I made sure I received the directions personally.
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Waking at 7:45am, we ate a large yet deliciously hot breakfast.
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This area marked where victims of the Black Plague were buried.
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unit 39
Incredible!
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unit 42
And, for some reason or other, I bought some new shoes though I don’t remember why, or what kind.
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I remember that I had hiking boots and thongs.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 3 weeks ago
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Perhaps I hadn’t packed sneakers, though I find this highly unlikely.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 45
The journal doesn’t elaborate so I, like you, are left to muse why.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 46
We had a drink in a pub in Brentwood where we saw quite a few Punks.
2 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 47
In Australia, as in the US, there was no emphasis on the “Punk look”.
2 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 3 weeks ago
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Like the music of the Sex Pistols, McLaren’s band, it was meant to shock the establishment.
3 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 2 weeks ago
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Punks in the UK could be spotted a mile away!
2 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 3 weeks ago
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But, I think, that was the idea.
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We always felt at ease in their presence; there was no threat of violence.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 3 weeks ago
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Quite the opposite, if anything they were anti-violence.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 3 weeks ago
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They were racist, anti-Semitic fascists that were openly aggressive.
2 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 3 weeks ago
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Unfortunately, the media and the “man on the street” often misidentified them as Punks.
2 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 3 weeks ago
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We knew different.
2 Translations, 0 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 1 week ago
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Punks and Skins were as opposite as day and night or, more aptly, freedom and oppression.
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That night we parked on the side of the road between Great Dunmow and Great Bardfield in Essex.
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The quotes are advisable.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 3 weeks ago
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Steve wrote this entry and, just because the journal states it as fact, does not make it so.
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From memory, we were so hungry that we would have supped on an old boot!
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So, there we were.
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We had bought two sleeping bags in Australia that were suited to a range of temperatures.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 3 weeks ago
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Steve exuded so much heat that I called him “the furnace with legs”.
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 2 weeks ago
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When the salesperson mentioned this ability, I fell in love with the bags in an instant.
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We couldn’t try it out at the Victoria B&B as we all had separate beds.
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Now was the test!
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The next day was be very busy indeed.
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END PART III
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 9 months, 2 weeks ago
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terehola • 6052  translated  unit 1  9 months, 3 weeks ago

REFLECTIONS.

A memoir on the value of life by Kim.

Part III.

Gradually we started to find things wrong with the car. Although we never openly expressed it, we both privately knew something like that was probably on the cards. Where do I begin? Firstly, the potable water tank had a leak. Whilst trying to lift the car to be able to inspect it further, we discovered the car did not have a jack; or any tools whatsoever. Lucky for us we didn’t have to change a flat tyre. Oh well, not so bad, we mused. It could be worse.
The problem with that line of thought was that it was worse, a lot worse. Both the left and right turn indicators stopped operating, the refrigerator didn’t appear to work, one of the gas lines was ruptured and we discovered the sink water pump did not, well, pump. To top it off, the car heating system blew nothing but cold air, regardless of the setting. Now, that was a major problem in the cold.
By day’s end, with some ingenuity, and a modicum of good luck, we solved the leak, fixed the indicators and mended the gas line. It was clearly apparent we needed to do quite a bit of work on the car. Anyway, on the bright side, it was great to be in the countryside in Essex.
As light faded rapidly, we decided to stay at a B&B for one more night, if we could find one. We had a meal at a pub in North Weald and it was there Steve was told about a private home that charged £18 for a double room and breakfast for two. His informant provided him with directions and we headed there straight after dinner.
Well, tried to head there would be a more accurate description as Steve messed up the directions and we spent the next hour wandering in circles. Some time passed uneventfully, so I suggested returning to the pub. He was certain he knew the way. Then, when the same trees and road signs on our endless circuit started to appear more than familiar, I began to grow a tad irate and insisted we return to the North Weald Queen’s Head pub to determine our correct route.
Now, I must point out that I suffer from epilepsy and, at that point in time, did not hold a driving license, so Steve was always the driver and I was always the navigator. On our return to the pub, I made sure I received the directions personally. After that, needless to say, we arrived at the B&B relatively quickly although, due to the time Steve wasted getting us lost, it was around 10:30pm.
The B&B was a home located on a small farm, quaintly called “Bumbles”, and was pure luxury compared to our digs in Victoria. Replete with open log fireplaces, comfortable furnishings and antiques, it was a very welcome sight to weary travellers such as ourselves.
One of or hosts, yet another Joyce, was a potter of some local renown and was utterly charming, as was her husband. After having a lovely chat, we told them we had an early start the next day, bid them goodnight and snuggled into our very warm bed at 12:30pm.
Waking at 7:45am, we ate a large yet deliciously hot breakfast. Joyce proceeded to give us a wonderful commentary about the history of Chipping Ongar and pointed out a line of trees about 100 meters from the rear of her house. This area marked where victims of the Black Plague were buried.
After thanking our hosts for their hospitality, we continued north, in search of a larger town where we might mind a mechanic to affect the necessary repairs to our new home on wheels. On the way, we dropped into Greensted Church, the oldest wooden church in the world originally built around 650 CE by the Celts and enlarged by the Saxons in 845 CE. It was built from rough-hewn oak logs more than 400 years prior to the Battle of Hastings and it was still standing. Incredible!
After leaving the church, we headed to the nearest laundromat to give our clothes a much-needed wash. We stopped at Brentwood where we purchased cooking implements and some groceries. We also purchased a car radio – yep, surprise, surprise, the car didn’t have one of those either – though we had yet to work out how to install it. And, for some reason or other, I bought some new shoes though I don’t remember why, or what kind. I remember that I had hiking boots and thongs. Perhaps I hadn’t packed sneakers, though I find this highly unlikely. The journal doesn’t elaborate so I, like you, are left to muse why.
We had a drink in a pub in Brentwood where we saw quite a few Punks. In Australia, as in the US, there was no emphasis on the “Punk look”. I remember talking to Jello Biafra, the lead singer and songwriter of the San Franciscan punk band “Dead Kennedys” about the differences in punk rock “dress” between the three countries when I met him at a gig in the US the previous year, in 1985. That was the great thing about punk gigs – they were intimate, and the bands were always very approachable and engaging.
UK punk attire was developed by fashion designer Vivienne Westwood and her partner Malcolm McLaren in their shop, “Sex”, on the King’s Road in Chelsea, London. Like the music of the Sex Pistols, McLaren’s band, it was meant to shock the establishment. With outrageous eye makeup, mohawk hairstyles, safety pin nose piercings, studded belts and dog collars, and torn clothing also often held together with safety pins, it was totally unique to the UK. In both the US and Australia, the punters, in the main, just wore T-shirts, jeans and the odd studded belt and maybe tussled their hair.
Punks in the UK could be spotted a mile away! But, I think, that was the idea. They made a lot of Brits uncomfortable, they felt threatened by their appearance and the seeming aggression of their behavior during gigs that they had seen on the telly. We always felt at ease in their presence; there was no threat of violence. Quite the opposite, if anything they were anti-violence. Of all the punk gigs we had attended, in the US, Australia and the UK (and there were a lot), we had never witnessed any acts of violence perpetrated by punks, however we had seen punks attacked, usually by skinheads (Skins) who were invariably right-wing nationalists that would have felt right at home in Hitler’s Germany. They were racist, anti-Semitic fascists that were openly aggressive. Unfortunately, the media and the “man on the street” often misidentified them as Punks. It was an early experience of how the truth can be distorted for media headlines and, thus, conveyed to those who are less well informed. We knew different. Punks and Skins were as opposite as day and night or, more aptly, freedom and oppression.
We left Brentwood and drove on, passing through a small village where we stopped briefly to admire the beautiful thatched roofed houses. I asked a local about them & learnt that, not only was thatching more expensive than normal roofing, they only lasted about 10 years (that is if the birds didn’t get to them first to build their nests).
That night we parked on the side of the road between Great Dunmow and Great Bardfield in Essex. We had sorted out the gear in the car and cooked our first meal in England – a “magnificent” ravioli. The quotes are advisable. Steve wrote this entry and, just because the journal states it as fact, does not make it so. From memory, we were so hungry that we would have supped on an old boot!
So, there we were. The refrigerator still did not work but, in the icy cold temperatures that gripped us living in a car, it hardly mattered. We had bought two sleeping bags in Australia that were suited to a range of temperatures. They had zippers on two sides that allowed the bag open out and act as a flat quilt, for less cold weather. These zippers also allowed for two bags to be zipped together into one large double sleeping bag to help conserve body heat. Steve exuded so much heat that I called him “the furnace with legs”. When the salesperson mentioned this ability, I fell in love with the bags in an instant. Not only could we snuggle together but my “furnace” would keep me warm even in the coldest of temperatures. We couldn’t try it out at the Victoria B&B as we all had separate beds. Now was the test! That night we fashioned our bags in the double format, laid inside, zipped the middle up and went to sleep. The next day was be very busy indeed.

END PART III