It was the sensation of diving in the arctic sea when in
fact I’d Just stepped outside to go last minute Christmas shopping.  Is there
any other kind of Christmas shopping than last minute? The pulse of Oxford
St in central London is critical,   any
doctor would diagnose imminent heart attack. 
I become  a red blood cell rushing
 amongst thousands in a main artery of
England on the busiest high street of its largest city on the busiest shopping
day of the year. 

By 2pm the shopping’s  done and I walk to The Duchess Theatre in
Aldwych across from  Bush House, home of
The World Service.  But the moment I sit
down I stand  and give chase to a man and
woman.   It’s never a wise thing to do –  not  for
a black man in London.  “Hey”  I shouted breathlessly as they approach the
strand.

 Both of them turned
but I couldn’t speak.  Wheezing I point
back at the cafe.   “we have no money” said the American man “leave
us alone”.  I squeezed out the words  “Bag!!”. 
The American man looked at me “stand back Arlene” he said to his wife
and took the stance of a thai kick boxer. His distended handed curled a finger
at me “let’s do this” he said.  “bag.. .”  I yelped.  “we shall not be giving you our bag” he said now bouncing like
Bruce lee.   “cafe….”  I said. 
“Bag in cafe…yours.”  But it was
too late and with a  high pitch scream he landed what is known as a
kick.  

When I came back to consciousness they had found their bag
and realised their mistake.   I  sat drinking latte outside the cafe as the
American couple walked away with a story to tell their family on Christmas
day.  It is an honour to embellish their
narrative.   The journalist turned  up and
we go see Cat on a Hot Tin Roof  at The Duchess by invite of its assistant director Anthony
Ekundayo.   I am given a lesson in
great writing and great acting.  I declined an offer to meet the cast as the play was so present.    I never
thought it was a bomb – not for a second.