I was hoping to deliver some leaflets today for a group trying to improve the lot for the ungrateful in Birkenhead,but once again depression beat me (and the weather). I volunteer as a challenge to actually get out of my front door. Silly as it may sound, the effort to actually get out there is a major mile stone. I feel great when I’ve done it and it only takes about an hour and a half to do my round.
But on another level I don’t want to meet my neighbours. Maybe I don’t want confrontation, but having examined my beliefs of this, or the year I’ve done this, I haven’t had anything serious.
I can’t relate to the people around here, foul-mouthed, dysfunctional people who delight in kicking doors in in the early hours after a few bevvys.
The worse place is a block of social housing the back of the railway station. I’ve had some snotty,dead eyed child rip up one of the leaflets up in front of me (probably to get a reaction), but I naturally dismiss anyone who doesn’t pay tax aged under 21 anyway. I had some ‘oik’ fly out of his hovel,with such violence and made a big show of putting the leaflet into his grey bin (recycling),so I suppose that was the only good thing that came of it he wasn’t colour blind, but I made a silent prayer he’d be hit with the bedroom tax. He was probably was a closet Tory, given the string vest he was wearing.
The fug and smell of cigarette smoke emanating from these places turn my stomach. TVs usually blaring away. You just half expect a Vicky Pollard type character to swear at you through the window. It’s like ‘Benefit’s Street’ but in a maisonette complex.
It just hardens my resolve that I don’t want to slip down to this level. It’s bad enough hanging on by my fingernails to what I’ve got a present – which isn’t much by most people’s standards.A twenty first century mememto mori.
I had to take the dog to the vets but was forced to wait outside as my Jack Russell took exception to a dog bigger than him. Whilst I was waiting stood sheltering under my golf brolly, I was ‘buzzed’ by some- lights- on- no- one’s -home male sprog on a bike – no idea why anyone with half a brain cell would do that to another human or dog (I hope when I enter my 60’s Tasers are made legal).If he had had hurt the dog he would be wearing his bike frame tolerance to this fly on the cowpat of life is wearing thin as he rode up and down on the pavement past me.
Currently sat in my unheated living room waiting for a change in the weather. Maybe I’ll try again on Monday, fewer people about.