A conversation with a stranger in Plumstead

The fascinating tale of a man I met by a pond, while looking at a rubbish box.

Every so often, we meet someone unforgettable. An element of their story sticks in your brain and you know, regardless of all else, you'll remember them forever.

This happened very recently, in my first week in England. I had just enjoyed a morning coffee at a café converted out of an old public toilet block in the Slade, Plumstead. I then had a tea, and left.

Taking the scenic route home, I walked down into the gully over the road - The Slade itself, I believe - along the flint and dust-coated path, past the fruit-laden brambles, before stopping to admire the pond, next to which someone had left an empty vacuum cleaner box. It looked really shitty. As I stood there, noticing the additions of a washing up bowl and plastic trike, a man and a dog came down the steps.

As they neared, the man asked "have you seen the turtles?". Everything else had been dumped in this pond, so it followed logic there'd be some unwanted pet turtles in there too. We stood and chatted, about nature, our connection to the area and our past lives; his as a nightclub bouncer, mine as the DJ.

Introductions were long passed, so I hit him with the enquiry I really wanted to make: "we need to talk about these tattoos," I said, pointing at the Māori-style tā moko flowing up his left arm, "what meaning does that have to you?"

“I have New Zealand blood,” he replied, "but Mum doesn't like to talk about that." Incredible! Fresh off the plane from the other side of the world - I hadn't even caught up with any actual friends yet - and there I was chatting to an apparent Kiwi. A Kiwi who'd never set foot in New Zealand, no less.

As our conversation continued, he revealed he wasn’t raised by his parents, but how he'd dearly love to know more about where he came from. There was a sadness, but positivity to his tone. “Remember this name,” I said, ready to impart a small, but the best gift I had, “David Lomas.”

In case you don’t know, David Lomas is a journalist who goes around New Zealand and the world on his TV shows, linking up long lost relatives and families. It’s a riveting watch. Each episode comes with a decent helping of mystery, suspense, investigation, discovery, then unleashes a waterfall of emotion for the finale. Even if the relative decides not to meet up, you’re always taken on a journey as a viewer and the participants are left with more information than they previously had.

My new pal was clearly a nature lover, so the only other piece of advice I gave was: “go to New Zealand. Stand there and look at the mountains, the bush and the beaches. You won’t believe where you are!”. It’s true, I still struggle with belief in most parts of Aotearoa.

We shook hands. “Good luck. Remember that name!” I told him.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t forget that!”

And with that, these two Brit-born-Kiwis, of varying backgrounds, went their separate ways. I hope he finds what he’s looking for.

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