I got off from a bus that had just got out from the long River Mersey tunnel. Just now at the Bus Terminal, I misunderstood an old lady who was trying to show me the way, ‘the next stop’, she pointed somewhere. ‘So can I just walk there?’ said I. It must be just a mere few hundred yards away, I thought to myself.
‘Can you understand English?’ she didn’t seem at all annoyed. She walked, I followed her, just a few meters away under the same roof, we moved from Gate 6 to Gate 7, where different buses come in to pick up passengers.
So I managed to get back. It was dark now in the city centre. I remember the only time when a teenager asked me for some money for a phone call. He began the conversation by asking, ‘Speak English?’
But now it was the last night of the Proms, the end of a two-month long season of non-paused classical concerts. What a surprise it was to find this big wide television screen high above next to Clayton Square was showing this as well, live from the Royal Albert Hall. Another old lady came up as asked me to do a survey. She must have noticed that I was intrigued because I stopped walking and started watching.
How much I knew about this big screen here, how I liked it, these all seemed to me very interesting. ‘Do you know who’s supporting it?’ Honestly I didn’t know. The answer was the BBC. Then I looked up, oh yes, ‘BBC’ has been always written on there.
‘How good do you think it is?’ Well, it’s in the right location showing the right things at the right time. As long as there is not too much noise, and making sure this is not affecting the privacy of the neighbouring people, I said, I don’t think there’ll be any problem. ‘Does this make you feel better about the BBC?’ Right, I’m not feeling better or not about it just because the big screen here. Instead I think it is normal because the company is so well funded.
Soon I realised she was expecting more information than I could give, partly because few channels other than those BBCs could be received in my residence hall, limited by the type of TV licence we’ve paid for.
When this was finished, I spotted something ironic. You can see a CCTV has been attached to the screen. So it’s a Tele-, and it’s a Screen, and there’s an eye on it too, so it is watching you. I mean, they could have avoided fixing it there.
Behind the ‘BBC’, it happens to be a Tesco. A huge lorry was there ready to unload goods that we buy every day. Britain’s two most powerful signs both in front of me, am I right to say.
Please give your self a break before reading the following. I appreciate your patience if you have reached here.
Another old lady, yes, another, was the only person watching the concert with me on the square. A devout Christian, she decided to stop to enjoy what she only considered ‘good music’.
