A weeks work in South Ken.

Moving out of the elevator that brings us up from the bowels of the Piccadilly line you are met by the glare of the morning sun. A mish-mash of people push past heading for the city or the west end. Their journey starting mine coming to an end. South Kensington and Gloucester road are unique for a number of factors. South Ken is known as London’s little France. It has the embassy, the cinema the French patisseries and most of all the Lycee. A huge French school in the heart of Kensington. Education and learning are the second factor the set the area aside. Along with the Lycee and you will find Imperial College, the Royal College of Music, The Royal College of Architecture even the Royal College of Organists. ( Now tellingly bought up by a foreign mogul.) At the other end of the scale are some of London’s most eccentric and expensive private schools. The London tutorial educates Eton’s exiles. Saudi Princes, Rock stars daughters and the assorted off spring of despots, Russian mobsters and addled gentry.

This is where I used to work.

Monday at the above school started well. Tatiana Smyth mooched into the office following in her wake came Lord Smyth, owner of the now defunct merchant bank. Like the bank the man liked to keep a constant vigil over the goings on of his daughter. His vigil on both institutions was often from a distance of at least a sea and preferably an ocean. Sitting down in the office he turned to me and smiled , his daughter glared at him and looked down at her expensively clad feet. I am off to Aspen for the week so Tatiana is going to be very adult and fend for herself. The cleaner and house keeper are around but I think that it is up to her school to ensure that she behaves herself whilst daddy is away. “Keep an eye on her for me will you“. Kissing the girl he stood up, handed over a wad of money and headed for the hills.

How do you feel about that then. Tatiana’s eyes lit up “how do you think” she cooed thumbing the notes. Behave yourself or else. The girl just smiled and walked off to her lesson. The exchange of money had sealed his Lordships fate.

Tuesday. Looking out of the class room window Tatiana could be observed running along the road her long brown hair glinting in the sun. Except this mane was now Peroxide blonde. Fuck

Wednesday. John imagined that the talk he had had with the girl would prevent any more attempts at winding up her dad. He stood on the doorstep as was his habit checking who was in or late smiling to himself when a bald little head appeared on front of him. From brunette to blonde was a mistake from blonde to bald would take some more explaining.

Thursday morning saw a more anxious man on the doorway eager to see what else the girl could hand her father. She appeared with a group of her friends laughing but thank god unchanged. The tension eased away and he moved of to the lesson. Droning away in class he asked a question which the girl promptly attempted to answer. The arm extended up revealing the new tattoo. Celtic Ruins do you like them.

Friday. The girl moved around the place. No apparent changes. Good . At the end of the day he said good by to the children. Tatiana was one of the last to leave. Looking forward to the last of your freedom. Sure am she smiled poking out her tongue. The silver rod glinted in the cool winter sunlight. Laughing the girl slipped out on to the street and turning the corner was gone.

The End