Chapter Seven - Life in London
Professor Bowen or 'Doctor Bowen' as he liked to be called, sat in his study talking to Jane. He was a medium sized man with thinning red hair combed back from his forehead, and a small clipped red military-type moustache. "I was a soldier in the last war," he told Jane right after meeting her. "I fought against Rommel in North Africa and was part of the invasion of Sicily. "
Jane had heard vaguely about the last world war but she couldn't have told you what the battles were about and where they took place. So she stayed silent when he told her about his military history. She judged he was middle-aged and just stared at him, as he pushed back his thick, black-framed glasses when they slipped down his long nose.
"I'm your thesis advisor Miss Sinclair," he told her as he swivelled around in his wooden armchair that sat in front of a dark flat table. "Now here's what you must do."
Then he laid out her schedules for classes she had to attend, readings she had to do, and other things to be done. Clad in a dark blue suit with a dark tie, from time to time he would re-arrange his black academic gown. As he went on talking briskly, Jane would jot down many of the things he said, in a small blue notebook. Bowen's accent was clear and concise and reminded Jane of Queen Elizabeth's way of speaking. It was definitely middle class.
Sometimes Jane wanted him to stop talking and give her a rest. But he didn't. He ploughed on with his comments. "Now you're going to do your thesis on John Donne, aren't you? So here's what you have to do first." And he was off again talking nonstop.
Jane looked out of the study's window beyond the hordes of books that lined the study's walls. She could see in the distance, Waterloo Bridge, or was it Charing Cross Bridge? Here it was in late September 1959 and she still hadn't seen much of London's tourist attractions. She'd flown to London from Boston and ended up for a few days at a local Y.W.C.A.
Then she found a room in an old rooming house not far from one of the University of London's campuses for she was enrolled in some of the University of London's postgraduate English courses. Yet she quickly realized that London was an expensive city and she couldn't afford to stay long at the 'Y'.
"It's small miss," the landlady Mrs. Forest told Jane about the room as they both climbed up the rooming house"s two flights of stairs. "But it's adequate. Three pounds a week and I'll supply you for free with a gas heater. You'll need it come wintertime."
Mrs. Forest was a small, chunky woman with dyed brown hair, and a squint in her right eye. "You share the bathroom with three other people . But there's a stove and a sink in the room." Mrs. Forest put a key in the room's lock and opened the door. She was right. The room had a stove, a sink and even a dresser and a bed. But elsewise it was bare and dark. A small window above the sink supplied Jane with a tiny view of part of the city of London.
Some fragments of Blake's poetry rang through Jane's head. Hadn't he written about "England's green and pleasant land " or something like that? She sure hadn't seen much that was green and pleasant in London so far. But she had no choice. "I'll take the room, Mrs. Forest," she said. Then she thought to herself,
But it needs some fixing up too, and I'm going to do that a soon as posssible.
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