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«Look, — she said to herself, — it goes on, London continues to live its own life, the world goes on». She dried her non-existent tears and turned at the sound of gentle voices. «Look, they were saying, — here is the new one! One more victim of the Human Soul Travellers Club. She had broken the rules, Mr. Toffiles is just a devil! Look, what a charming female soul!»

Gentle voices belonged to a host of transparent creatures, whose contours were recognisably human and even beautiful, but as if made of air and clouds. One of them approached Julia and said in pleasant male voice: «I have the honour to greet you here. We’re all good friends and shall be glad to have you in our company».

Julia smiled and the heavenly transparent creature smiled back at her. «Am I transparent too?» — wondered Julia and at the same moment stopped thinking about it, because it didn’t matter. What really mattered was that she could fly anywhere now, even to China! And she addressed her pleasant-looking companion in a polite voice: «Excuse me, sir, do you happen to know in which direction I should fly to get to Peking?»

Sarah Belch waited for Steve Martin but he never turned up. When she learned about his death in the car accident she sighed with relief. «Saved», — she said to herself and a radiant smile lit up her charming face.

At the cosy office of the Human Soul Travellers Club the Chinese-looking secretary was busy with the two cheques, which Mr. Toffiles had just brought. He was evidently pleased with himself and was happily humming his favourite tune «Everything’s going my way».

«You could have done better business, Mr. Toffiles», — said the porcelain beauty, when she finished counting, — «if you sold human souls, not just transplant organs for operations».

Mr. Toffiles laughed in reply. — «Business in human souls? You know, Margaret, the world has changed greatly over the last one hundred years. Life has lost its spirit and people have become low materialists. They are not interested in pure souls any longer. Who will buy a perfect sinless human soul today? Nobody needs it…»

Mind the Gap

«Breaking down stereotypes is not just realising that people are not the way one thought they were, or that deep down «we are all the same».

It is understanding that we are irreducibly unique and different, and that I could have been you, you could have been me, given different circumstances. In other words, that the stranger as Kristeva says, is in us…»

«The Cultural Component of Language

Teaching» by Claire Kramsch,

British Studies Now, N 8, 1996

West Acton. The doors closed with a characteristic beep of London underground and Tanya began looking through «The Times» she had bought a few minutes earlier at Ealing Broadway. She smiled as her eye fell on a big cartoon: a black man sleeping on a bench with a bulldog by his side, the latter chewing ferociously the sign «No dogs, no Irish, no blacks». «Whatever happened to the melting pot?» — big letters of the headline inquired.

«The UK’s ethnic minority population is large and growing. Now totalling more than 3 million (nearly 6 per cent of the national population) it is expected to double over the next 30 years. Immigration to the UK has focused overwhelmingly on a few large cities, particularly London» — read Tanya and paused casting a glance around.

True. London underground features colours of every ethnic hue: white, black, yellow and what not. An opposite seat was occupied by an Indian family: women in saris and sandals with a bunch of noisy children. Then there was a tired middle-aged woman unmistakably Chinese, a young man with dark curly hair and olive skin immersed in reading a book in Arab, a huge black youth, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses, his ears blocked by earphones, his jaws chewing violently and his feet in enormous boots moving to the silent rhythm that only he could hear. True, she reflected, the UK’s ethnic minority population is large and growing, at least in London.

«A little over half of the UK’s ethnic minority population is from the South Asian subcontinent — India, Pakistan and Bangladesh. A quarter are black with the remainder predominantly mixed race or Chinese» — she read on and reflected — «Well, it’s not not only a question of where the people come from ethnically. It’s basically the question of the natural balance of colours. Dark hues gradually ousting the light ones. So many young people in London wearing black. The majority of young girls dressed in black from head to heals, as if they all were attending a secret funeral. Very annoying». Tanya’s eyes intuitively started searching for some light patches in the predominantly dark palette of London underground.

North Acton. The doors opened letting in a tall white man in a grey suit with an elegant brief-case and a big umbrella. «Very smart», — noted Tanya as he took a seat opposite her. A bank manager? A successful businessman? In Russia men like that don’t travel by underground, they proudly drive Mercedes or Volvo cars. As the tall gentleman buried his face in «The Evening Standard» Tanya gave him another look: middle-aged, must be in his forties, fair hair with a red hue, a bit longuish, which gave to his basically businesslike image a slightly bucaneerish touch, freckled hands… «Freckles. Red hair and freckles. Must be Irish,» — thought Tanya and smiled remembering the cartoon. The man intercepted her scrutinizing look and gave her a quick warning smile. «It’s impolite to stare» — his cool grey eyes were saying. She smiled back apologetically and turned to the article she had been reading.