I live in an urban environment. That’s how I like it. The countryside is great to spend time in but I wouldn’t want to live there. It’s either far too quiet or there’s too much mysterious grunting in hedgerows.
Give me the town any time; the traffic, the rollicking revellers returning home, the screams in the night and a woman’s voice shrieking, “Leave it Vinny. It’s not worth it!”. All part of life’s rich pageant and really not that many stabbings at all.
Our town is also multi-cultural. I have neighbours from different parts of the world. There’s the young Muslim couple. I don’t know where they are from originally. Being British one doesn’t like to pry; but they are polite and friendly. There is a smashing Polish family always ready for a chat and to lend a hand and then there’s the Brazilians who won’t shut up when you get them started. Good people all.
With the issues of Brexit and the Trumpathon refusing to fade away, rather like a pair of angry, tenacious boils, it is nice to know that ordinary folk are okay day to day.
I am so sick of the media circus revolving around these topics like flies around a carcass. President Trump strikes me as being a vainglorious man and J-C Juncker is a tiresome Luxembourger who is being overbearing and testy about Brexit. Both seem to be entirely capable of throwing their toys out of the pram if they don’t get their way.
Neither of them appear pleasant people but the fact is nobody knows what is going to happen in America or Europe. There are plenty who think they know but the fact is we have no idea what the outcomes for us will be long term and all the attendant hysteria seems like a waste of so much air to me. You never know: Trump may surprise us; just don’t hold your breath. Europe, Britain and the USA may very well go to hell in a handcart any day now but for most of us it is a question of wait and see, like crossing the road. Ordinary folk must get on with it regardless.
That’s why I bring up the subject my relationship with the neighbours. None of the above mentioned speak especially good English but they all make the effort.
A few days ago I had the pleasure – and it was a pleasure – of the company of a Porsche 718 Cayman for a few days. Oh Bliss! Oh Joy! It really is a remarkable car.
I was outside fiddling about with it and generally stroking stuff when in the space of a few minutes, like musketeers, one became four. I was joined by the above mentioned gents. A lively discussion ensued. How fast was it? How much does it cost? Can I sit in it? Is it economical? Can I take it back to Katowice and show my uncle?
Different shades of skin and possibly three different branches of religion but suddenly it was just four blokes chatting about cars and four spouses (I’m surmising here) raising their eyebrows in wonder as wives are wont to do when boys talk toys. Cars transcending race and that’s just how it should be.
The difference between politicians and ordinary folk is that we huddled masses are mostly prepared to live and let live, apart from the nutters obviously. Integration will find its own way if it wants to without all the hysterical and sanctimonious claptrap that comes from the chattering classes.
We are all made of the same ingredients. One local English family seems to be made of more of them than most but that’s yet another hot potato you’re not allowed to mention because it might hurt their feelings.
Yes, the Porsche 718 Cayman is a terrific car. That’s something I can talk about and will do shortly. At least four of us agree. Perhaps if we had more motor shows and ‘cars and coffee’ type events for all-comers and all vehicle types then the world would be a better place. It may be naive to hope so but it would certainly be more fun. We can leave it to Lily Allen and Katie Hopkins to sort out the rest. Geoff Maxted