Friday, 24 April 2015

Home turf

I was at a party earlier this week and someone from the other side of London took it upon himself to insult my part of town.

Now, here's the funny thing, if it had been one of my mates running the area down or if I'd been fed up, it would have passed with nothing other than perhaps a sage nod.

Hearing it from a stranger unfortunately sends all my hackles up.

Gone all primal

The reaction is something akin to what a Lioness might feel if you turned on her cubs.

I can physically feel myself bristle and then all the aggression that is thoroughly unacceptable party behaviour comes out.

This is not the way to win friends and influence people.

I like it this way, I do

That has however flown out of my head, I feel something similar to if the man had wandered into my home and insulted the paint work.

Sure I know it needs a paint job and yes I'm not entirely sure about the shade either.

But here's the thing, it's my home, it feels like one of those comfy sweaters that everyone has that has now got a million holes in it due to the fact that you've worn it to death because despite it not being fashionable or to most people's tastes, you love it.

I always start a fight

So here I am cursing a lost connection because of a mixed up sense of pride and belonging.

Honestly, if you're reading this I thought you were lovely, I just can't seem to keep my mouth shut when I disagree with people, it was how I was raised.

No one ever sent me to finishing school I'm afraid.

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