August 21, 2013 1 Comment
Someone wants a cycleway along the cliff tops at Westcliff, someone wants their alley cleared of rubbish. A couple want residents only parking; another couple do not. Everyone wants the dog poo cleared up, one young man asks about joining the Labour Party. There’s an ambulance next door, someone else is cooking dinner and is too busy to speak. Another invites me in. There is a disabled parking space that is no longer required. A expert on trees educates me, and tells me about the speeding cars down his road. Someone complains about the naughty kids, someone else praises them. I wander through a hostel meeting friendly faces. A young girl tells me she wants a room of her own. Someone has problems with their private parking space. The screaming baby keeps one woman awake at night. There is a streetlight that never goes off, there are trees that need pruning. There are those who park on pavements, and those who bitterly object. Someone fails to see to point in voting, someone always ensures they vote. There are those on the brink of moving out, there are those who have just moved in. Someone thanks me for calling, someone tells me all politicians are liars. Some are scared to go out at nights, some go for regular constitutionals. Someone wants the bandstand returned, someone else wants the bandstand returned, someone else wants the bandstand returned …
A mother is weighing the secondary school options. No-one wants libraries closed. The police are rubbish; the police are great. Can I do anything about immigration? Do I want to? Some love the diversity.
There is litter, some complain. The streets are clean, some cheer. Why are the council wasting money? Why do Network Rail do nothing about the trackside rubbish. The roads are in dreadful state, the pavements are uneven. The town was so much better in years gone by.
We moved here two years ago and we love it. This is an ideal location. Some are very content. Someone else swears whenever the Tories are mentioned. Some do not like Ed Miliband. A shouted conversation, a whispered one. Come see my view. Will my rent go up? The feeling of gradually getting poorer. Someone are not working, some are over-worked. Some retired, some studying, some working about the house.
A thanks for calling, a thanks for listening. The door that is slammed before I can truly announce myself, the door unanswered. The many doors that never open. The charming, the rude, the welcoming, the suspicious. Welcome to the real world.