Wednesday, July 26, 2006
A welcome back to Bilborough
I've just spent a happy 19 days up in Scotland, mostly in the Western Isles, where the word "community", so abused and debased by NuLabor, really means what it says on the tin - people know each other face to face, and seem to get on most of the time. Not an idyll to be sure, as all communities have their conflicts, and even the Western Isles has (mostly petty) crime, but people manage things for and amongst themselves, are friendly to strangers (even crass Yank tourists), and share a culture and sense of place. The default attitude towards people is trust, not suspicion.
My feel-good factor was a little jolted whilst up there as I still couldn't escape bad news from Nottingham (is there any other sort?) - according to a report in the Guardian Financial bit house prices in the city fell by 13% last year [1], and it was reported on national news that there'd been yet another shooting in the city centre in which three people were wounded [2]. By dint of studiously ignoring English news - I made a point of reading The Herald whilst up there - and not watching any TV, I was spared further turds on the table. As ever, though, my bubble was well and truly pricked on my return 'home'. I was depressed enough as always by my crossing the Border from civilisation into barbarism, although I eventually get used/resigned to that after a few days back, and I was pleasantly surprised on my return to Bilborough to see that the burglar alarm hadn't gone off, and that the house, and my car, were seemingly intact.
When I checked out the garden, though, I found that some ned had padlocked my drive gates shut, with a lock too strong for the puny hacksaws I have in my toolbox. This means that I'm unable to get my car out, which in turn means that I'll not be able to pick my cat up from the cattery tomorrow unless I can either find a heavy-duty saw or boltcutter to cut through the lock, or get hold of a locksmith to get it off. Either way, it's both extra expense and eats into my working day just because some darren had a spare padlock and wanted to piss someone off. If I were paranoid I'd think it was targetted at me, but the local darrens/neds are too apathetic to go after anyone in particular so chances are it was just chance I was picked on, or they had a bunch of padlocks they'd nicked and they've done other houses as well. I suppose I should count myself lucky that they didn't padlock the front gate as then I'd really have been shafted.
Then White Van Man and wife/gf decide to have a wee barney in the back garden, yer other neighbour lights a smoky fire to get rid of hedge cuttings so forcing me to close all windows, and of course the biking darrens were at it again speeding up and down outside the school. Truly a rude re-awakening to the realities of life in Grotsville, Notts. I'm really quite tempted to just flog the house, quit the job, and fuck off out of this grotty estate in this dangerous city in this barbaric and reactionary authoritarian country, and try to wing it elsewhere. A dangerous move for all sorts of reasons, but I'm not sure I can face the thought of moving to somewhere 'better' in Nottingham ('less worse' would be a more appropriate descriptor) just to get out of Bilborough, when really Nottingham is the problem. Perhaps I should just take a big pay cut and go work as a postie in the Highlands somewhere until a half-decent job comes up...
Oh, of course, it could be so, so much worse. I could live in far grottier and more dangerous areas - St Ann's, Radford, Basford, Bulwell, Strelley, Sneinton, Broxtowe, Meadows come immediately to mind - so maybe I should be content with living in a place that's just plain grot, rather than dodgy or plain lethal. As I approach 50, though, I don't see why I should still put up with 'less worse' when there's the possibility of 'good' if I actually pull my finger out - I could do with enjoying what little active life I have left, and ideally moving to somewhere civilised where there is a real community where people look out for each other. As a start, I'll get the estate agents in to value this gaff, and with luck, despite the supposed 13% fall in average prices, it'll have at least held its value in real terms as it's in the 'first-time buyer' bracket. If the worst comes to the worst and I can't find anywhere half-decent to buy elsewhere, I'll stick my stuff in storage and go live in a tent!
PS: It took me nearly 5 hours of bashing away with a geological hammer to get the padlock off my gate. I did buy boltcutters from the local hardware shop, but they barely made a dent on the hardened steel of the lock, so that was a tenner down the drain.
[1] House prices suffer biggest fall in 5 years as mini-boom stalls, Guardian Online, 7/7/06
[2] Gunman shoots three in 4am attack on nightclub, Guardian Online, 10/7/06
My feel-good factor was a little jolted whilst up there as I still couldn't escape bad news from Nottingham (is there any other sort?) - according to a report in the Guardian Financial bit house prices in the city fell by 13% last year [1], and it was reported on national news that there'd been yet another shooting in the city centre in which three people were wounded [2]. By dint of studiously ignoring English news - I made a point of reading The Herald whilst up there - and not watching any TV, I was spared further turds on the table. As ever, though, my bubble was well and truly pricked on my return 'home'. I was depressed enough as always by my crossing the Border from civilisation into barbarism, although I eventually get used/resigned to that after a few days back, and I was pleasantly surprised on my return to Bilborough to see that the burglar alarm hadn't gone off, and that the house, and my car, were seemingly intact.
When I checked out the garden, though, I found that some ned had padlocked my drive gates shut, with a lock too strong for the puny hacksaws I have in my toolbox. This means that I'm unable to get my car out, which in turn means that I'll not be able to pick my cat up from the cattery tomorrow unless I can either find a heavy-duty saw or boltcutter to cut through the lock, or get hold of a locksmith to get it off. Either way, it's both extra expense and eats into my working day just because some darren had a spare padlock and wanted to piss someone off. If I were paranoid I'd think it was targetted at me, but the local darrens/neds are too apathetic to go after anyone in particular so chances are it was just chance I was picked on, or they had a bunch of padlocks they'd nicked and they've done other houses as well. I suppose I should count myself lucky that they didn't padlock the front gate as then I'd really have been shafted.
Then White Van Man and wife/gf decide to have a wee barney in the back garden, yer other neighbour lights a smoky fire to get rid of hedge cuttings so forcing me to close all windows, and of course the biking darrens were at it again speeding up and down outside the school. Truly a rude re-awakening to the realities of life in Grotsville, Notts. I'm really quite tempted to just flog the house, quit the job, and fuck off out of this grotty estate in this dangerous city in this barbaric and reactionary authoritarian country, and try to wing it elsewhere. A dangerous move for all sorts of reasons, but I'm not sure I can face the thought of moving to somewhere 'better' in Nottingham ('less worse' would be a more appropriate descriptor) just to get out of Bilborough, when really Nottingham is the problem. Perhaps I should just take a big pay cut and go work as a postie in the Highlands somewhere until a half-decent job comes up...
Oh, of course, it could be so, so much worse. I could live in far grottier and more dangerous areas - St Ann's, Radford, Basford, Bulwell, Strelley, Sneinton, Broxtowe, Meadows come immediately to mind - so maybe I should be content with living in a place that's just plain grot, rather than dodgy or plain lethal. As I approach 50, though, I don't see why I should still put up with 'less worse' when there's the possibility of 'good' if I actually pull my finger out - I could do with enjoying what little active life I have left, and ideally moving to somewhere civilised where there is a real community where people look out for each other. As a start, I'll get the estate agents in to value this gaff, and with luck, despite the supposed 13% fall in average prices, it'll have at least held its value in real terms as it's in the 'first-time buyer' bracket. If the worst comes to the worst and I can't find anywhere half-decent to buy elsewhere, I'll stick my stuff in storage and go live in a tent!
PS: It took me nearly 5 hours of bashing away with a geological hammer to get the padlock off my gate. I did buy boltcutters from the local hardware shop, but they barely made a dent on the hardened steel of the lock, so that was a tenner down the drain.
[1] House prices suffer biggest fall in 5 years as mini-boom stalls, Guardian Online, 7/7/06
[2] Gunman shoots three in 4am attack on nightclub, Guardian Online, 10/7/06
