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Exactly a month ago, I woke up in an extraordinarily bad mood for no apparent reason. Knowing that the best treatment for this was to identify a few injustices on which to ruminate and thereby darken my mood further, this is what I came up with.

It is not the fault of poorer people born in London that the city has been made too expensive for them to live in.  You can’t herd them out like cattle to make room for the well off. It’s our home.

Thatcher’s removal of fair rent controls in the 80‘s, lack of investment in council/social housing, the property boom in the late 90’s/early noughties, the increase in private sector rents following the “global financial crisis” as a result of mortgage defaults/repossessions and subsequent increased demand for privately rented properties, the tendency for people to move to London and the South East because that’s where the jobs and the money and the fun are, and this new idea now that housing benefit should be capped because the feckless poor don’t deserve to have such nice luxuries that the hardworking middle classes would probably now consider necessities, have confluenced into the perfect storm. Having been born here, having my family, my friends and my work here, I stay because I feel I belong in some way. But because of the cost of living, my financial quality of life is considerably less than if I moved to the North, or somewhere else that hardly anyone wants to live.  But that’s first world problems in comparison with the social housing residents of Newham who were being shipped out to the Midlands away from their well established lives that they have every right to, no matter what everyone else’s opinions on worthiness are,  just because their housing benefit won’t cover rents in that area. Urban cleansing is the phrase, I believe. Well how very dare you.

Rampant public misogyny regularly goes unaccosted.

Street harrassment, the appalling treatment of rape survivors both in the Ched Evans case where the woman was publicly named and the convicted footballer was publicly supported; and the vulnerable young girls abused in Rochdale effectively blamed on BBC Question Time while no such questions would ever cross the mind let alone the lips regarding the survivors of abuse by Catholic priests. The fact that “old” or “ugly” women can’t be on TV without becoming the targets of verbal abuse, in the case of broadcast journalists, gay sports commentators and academic documentary makers.

People assume that because you don’t have much ‘”book learnin'” you can’t have much profound to say.

Yes, I mean you Mary Beard. As much as I loved your spirited smack down of A.A. Gill, why oh why did you have to go all elitist on his backside by saying that the reason he is so ignorant is because he didn’t go to university?! Some of the wisest, most tolerant, most insightful, most incisive, kindest people I have ever known in my life did not go to university. They are in no way ignorant nor misogynistic. In the mean time, some of my friends, who have gone to university and are incredibly academic, have no respect for such qualities because they don’t speak the language, the words they use aren’t long enough.  No doubt my “discourse” here would be incredibly “limited” in their opinion.  When I finally went to university, on a rather non-academic degree, I told my new friend @polkadotskirts (soon to be clinical neuroscientist) that I was most certainly not a feminist.  Although I’d always had strong feelings against the oppression of women, I’d never learned the theoretical language required to articulate them (nor knew there was one for some time) and had never integrated into any movement. No experiences at uni drew me in either. My understanding has increased somewhat but I still remain a little removed from the “theory” of it all because for me it was never about theory.  It was about growing up in a place where I saw a lot of women abused in one way or another by a lot of men. Experience, not theory. So at least it made me feel a little better when I read this on my new favourite website and thought “Yes! Now I know what this is I’ve been feeling!”

This world is a horrible place to live in. Humbug.

Also, while I’m at it: Hey, local businesses! How can I support you if you don’t keep regular opening hours?!!

The dark cloud didn’t hang around for much more than a day. My perky optimism is insurmountable. These problems still exist but being grumpy won’t solve anything.

GRPs for still having a tidy hovel even though it was cleaned and tidied four days ago: +1

FitnePs for running: +3

KarmaPs for returning the £5 note to the person from whose pocket it fluttered: +1

FrienPs for actually going out and socialising for the first time in ages: +1

Total so far…

  • Karma: +20
  • FRP: +172.6
  • Relationships: +4
  • Family: +8
  • Friends: +13 [Supplementary PPs: +2]
  • Career: +19
  • Fitness: +14
  • General: +7
Lyric of the week: Lips that promise fear the worst.
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