Extracts from the Actuel Interview, Sept. 1982

Actuel: I've been looking for you. I've been to Chelsea, they told me there were some clothes for you and that you were living with your mother.

Syd: Thanks very much. Do you want some money? Did they pay you?

A: No, no that's okay. What are you doing now? Do you paint?

S: No. I've just had an operation, but nothing too serious. I"m trying to go back down there, but I've got to wait. There's a train strike at the moment.

A: But that's been over now for several weeks.

S: Oh, good! Thanks very much..."

A: What did you do in the apartment in London. Do you play guitar?

S: No...No I watch TV, that's all.

A: Don't you want to play anymore?

S: No, not realy. I don't have time to do very much. I must find myself a flat in London. But it's difficult, I'l have to wait...

(From time to time he looks at the cloths, his jumble. He smiles)

I didn't think I'd get these things back. And I knew I couldn't write. I couldn't have made my mind up to go and get them...To get the train and all that...But then...I didn't even write to them...Mum said she'd get in touch with the office...Thanks, anyway.

(All the while, he is trying to end the conversation. He glances repeatedly towards the garden, towards his mother.

A: Do you remember Duggie?

S: Uh...yes...I never saw him again. I'm not going to see anyone in London.

A: All your friends say hello.

S: Ah thanks...that's nice...

(He speaks and reacts like all the psychiatric cases I know. Waiting seems to have become his major occupation, TV helping him to pass the time.)

A: Can I take a photo of you?

S: Yes, sure

(He smiles, fidgets, fastens his collar.)

Good, that's enough now. It's painful for me...Thank you.

(He looks at the tree in from of the house. I don't know what else to say.)

A: It's nice, that tree.

S: Yes, but not any more. They cut it, not long ago Before that I liked it a lot.

(From inside the house, his mother's voice is heard.)

His Mother: Roger, come and have a cup of tea , and say hello to my friends.

(Roger Barrett turns towards me, panicked.)

S: Good...there you are. Maybe we'll see each other in London. Bye

A: Yes, until then. Bye