The last straw(s)

That’s it, the last straw. Well, that’s yet another last straw; when the old tramp shat on the pavement outside my front window with my little daughter watching that was the last straw; when the same daughter, while playing in the bushes in the park, stood in human shit that was the last straw; the other day when a bunch of young men wound their killer dog up then let it go on me and my three kids, that was the last straw; now the usually polite and respectful young men in the alley have gone a step too far and graffitied on the front window of someone’s house, someone who I’ve watched painstakingly caring for his house. It feels like another last straw, and the camel/firegoat’s back is not well.

Today I feel terribly miserable about living in Southall. I’ve really enjoyed lots about living here for over 15 years. Southall provided me with cheap rented accommodation as a student and it was where I learnt to house-share. Southall gave me cheap and nutritious food when my budget was tight. Southall educated me about difference and diversity, and my own reactions. I’ve loved meeting and mixing with people from all cultures and religions, and learnt so much. I’ve never lived anywhere as long as I’ve lived here in this town, in this house, I feel a sense of community I’ve never felt since childhood. Yesterday when I walked down the Broadway I met and spoke to my next door neighbour, the grandma of my son’s schoolfriend, my neighbour’s friend, a work colleague and the mum of another of my son’s friends twice, the second time she was with a bunch of school children and teachers doing a survey so I stopped and let them ask me questions. The first one was ‘what do you like about Southall,’ and for the first time ever I was speechless, I couldn’t find anything positive to say at first, and could only come up with ‘colour.’ Maybe I was particularly inarticulate that day, but really Southall is beginning to piss me off big time. No wonder I’ve always got back ache with all these last straws piled on it.