Meeting The Locals

Wednesday evenings have somehow become take-away night. The reasons for this are far too mundane to go into so I shall skip them. But being a connoisseur of the fish & chip supper I’ve been taking myself off to the local chippie at the appointed hour there to purchase the finest cod and chips that my hard won money can buy.

It’s a mere 5 minute walk to the top of the street but it does take me through the badlands – the rough end of the street; the wrong side of the tracks, etc.

By and large I’ve encountered no trouble but have passed some sights that have encouraged an occasional bout of rubber-necking. Couples arguing in cars. The contents of front rooms scattered over DIY gravel drives. And enough snotty nosed 7 year old smoking Marlborough’s to make me think this country’s potential population explosion might be naturally capped in about 40 year’s time.

This Wednesday, however, was different.

There I was, my freshly wrapped chips slung under my arm, heading towards home when 4 lanky youths disembarked very untidily from a house on the other side of the street.

Naturally, minding my own business, I attracted their dubious attention.

Initially I got the ubiquitous “alright mate”. I admit I didn’t respond. I’m rather choosy about whom I consider to be a mate. Maybe this was my mistake? The next two comments were plainly insults – I can’t even recall what they were – followed by loud, rather effeminate hooting laughter.

I didn’t respond again. I carried on walking. Neither quickening nor slowing my pace. Curiously I didn’t actually feel threatened. I’d quickly surmised that these paragons of teenage virtue were no more than 14 or 15 and were merely being buoyed up by each other’s leaking testosterone. On their own they wouldn’t have said boo to a goose.

But afterwards I did feel angry. Not seething, blood boiling angry but angry in a “maybe I should have crossed the road and lamped one of them” kind of angry. Why should they be allowed to get away with such behaviour? What makes them think they can act so aggressively to complete strangers and not have any come-back?

I know, I know.

It’s not worth the risk of a flick-knife in the guts. I’ve got a wife and kids at home. I’ve got cod and chips under my arm. All they’ve got is their own inferiority driving them on to acts of desperate foolhardiness.

But nevertheless the anger was there. Little shits.

In the past I have responded when a complete stranger has seen fit to be arsy with me in the street. I haven’t really thought about it. I’ve just hit boiling point straight away and launched in with some particularly nasty vitriol. The old adage that lions roar so loudly to avoid combat has held true. My opponent has usually turned tail and beat a mouthy retreat.

Afterwards I’ve usually kicked myself for being so damned stupid. But I can’t deny that I’ve also felt a small, glowing sense of satisfaction that I’ve held my own. Stuck up for myself. Taken no shit.

This Wednesday I was just too tired, too preoccupied, and possibly more sensible.

But even so. I can’t help wishing I’d kicked some ass.

Do you think it’s possible I have been exposed to a small dose of gamma radiation?

Faces Come Out Of The Rain

I thought I was writing in a void.

Well, not so much a void – more of an airport waiting room where only people from other towns and other countries ever passed through. The people in my blog list for example. Maybe a few pieces of stray luggage passing by as they desperately try to locate their owners. My wife on occasion when I nag her to read through what I’ve composed...

But nobody else.

But it seems I was wrong.

It seems that some of the people that I work with are reading this here very blog. They are taking my hastily scrawled words or irreverence and discussing them over their sandwiches in the staffroom.

And how do I know this?

My boss told me this morning.

You know that crash you heard? That was the sound of my jaw smashing clean through my mug of hot chocolate and an MDF table top. I now have blood, chocolate and teeth on my shoes.

I confess I didn’t quite know what to say. What went through my mind was: “How dare people I know read my blog – it’s only meant for friends that I haven’t actually met.”

The other thought was: “Shit, what the hell have I written about my boss?”

I’m a lot calmer now though. As the day has progressed my keel has gradually evened itself. C’est la vie.

And as the sun sets on this (in)auspicious day, the questions now are slightly different:

Am I the unofficial spokesperson for a disenfranchised and World Wide Web friendly workforce? Am I the übermensch and spiritual leader of a new breed of chat-room based cyber terrorists? Or am I merely a source of local misinformation for my work colleagues and fellow council officers?

I suspect – alas – the latter.

Ho hum. Infamy, infamy, they’ve got it in for me... what is an erstwhile propagandist to do (except keep tapping away)?

One last question though before I sign off:

Can I now continue to write in as free and easy a manner (hey, I might make it look easy but...) as I have done these last three wonderfully unrestrained years now knowing that people I have daily contact with are possibly reading my cyber meanderings and offering up opinions on them as they go about their normal work duties?

It’s a toughie.

I hope the answer will be yes. I hope I will adhere to the writer’s motto of: “I write what I like”. I’ve always been (I hope) circumspect and careful. So really it should be business as usual.

But, I admit, I do feel rather...

Strange.

Television Is Evil (Apparently)

After writing quite an innocuous blog entry last week about wanting to work less and spend more time with my family – All Work And No Play - I’ve found myself inexplicably attacked by Mr Anonymous (the Mr Man that Roger Hargreaves couldn’t be bothered to write about) who, after presumably skimming through a few of my other blog entries, jumped to the huge conclusion that the reason I don’t have enough time with my family is because I watch far too much television. For those of you who are interested, you can read his sanctimonious outpourings by clicking on the Comments link at the bottom of the entry in question.

Now my first reaction was one of immense anger and I still feel hugely offended. You’ll see from my replies that I generally watch no more than 2 hours of television a day. Hardly a massive family-quality-time sapping amount is it? Mr Anonymous however, undoubtedly with his nose in the air, countered with the argument that 2 hours a day soon adds up if you total it up over a year.

I find such statistics deeply irritating. They’re the usual recourse of the unimaginatively smug. Ah yes – you might only pick your nose for 2 minutes day but added up over a lifetime that equals 912 hours! 912 hours when you could be doing something far more worthy and important! So what are you supposed to do? Never pick your nose again and write a Nobel Peace Prize winning novel with the extra time that you’ve gained?

What rubbish. It’s unrealistic as well as being impractical and stupid.

Such statistics are utterly meaningless.

My biggest gripe, however, is the fact that Mr Anonymous has read a handful of my Blog entries and has just assumed that I choose to watch television rather than spend time with my family. That’s deeply offensive: (a) because nobody has the write to make judgements about me, my life and the intimate workings of my family life based upon a few flimsy blog entries and (b) I generally watch television WITH my family. And it’s not a passive viewing pastime either – Karen and I debate and discuss constantly the issues that are presented towards us. The television is far from being an “idiot box” in our house.

But even if it was who the hell has the right to tell me – or indeed you – that you have no right to relax in whatever way you see fit? I work effing hard. So does my wife. If we want to relax by watching TV, taking up Pilates, tying ourselves in knots with yoga or knitting voluminous sweaters out of spaghetti then so be it. Nobody has the right to say we can’t or intimate that our choice of relaxation is harming our relationship!

Mr Anonymous how dare you!

You obviously spend far too much time in front of the computer reading other people’s blogs and making ill-informed judgements about the owners based upon what you read. I could easily argue that such a pastime is bad for you and your own relationships. Why aren’t you spending that time with your family – if indeed you have one? Why don’t you count up how many hours you spend being sanctimonious over a year and try and decide whether it’s a worthy use of your time?

Personally, as far as I’m concerned, you can do what the effing hell you like with your life.

Just kindly butt out of mine.

Related Blog: A Blog On The Spectrum.