Well, good morning to you too!


This morning, Gmail told me that I had 27 new messages. I got to see only a handful of them. I have no idea where the other 20+ or so messages went. I have seen this happen a lot in the past 5 to 10 years, and not just to gmail.

One of those e-mails that I did get was a weird one received at 1:19 am saying something like “Angel, my angel”.

And an hour ago, someone left this comment on a YouTube video, says my browser, but the comment does not actually seem to be there, under my video. Maybe YouTube has held it, as it does say “2 comments”. (I checked. No, nothing held for review. See bottom of post.)

As I haven’t been aggressively hassling any men out there on the streets, anyone “coming for me” would have to be off his rocker big time, so I am not worried about this. Granted, there has been some stuff on my screen in the past few months that seemed to suggest that a psychopath is about to destroy me. But if you worry about something like that becoming reality…

The last man I “hassled” hassled me first, along Lake Road back in January, so I hassled back in the way that I described in that video, and it worked. It’s great not to feel so powerless when hassled. Young men – and young women – in England hassle you because they feel that it’s normal to hassle older females as we are obviously some lower kind of species.

Yep, young people in England demonise older adults far too often. I’ve also had young people yell at me, also along Lake Road, “Hey, daisy, why don’t you put on a skirt?” or something like that. (Daisy is a derogatory term for “older adult”; it refers to “pushing up daisies”.) Yep, the only justification for the existence of any woman is if she serves as a “dick depository”, right? And far too many young boys grow up considering this normal. The view that all women are trash, and that older women do not even deserve to be alive. They use “granny” as a pejorative. Says enough.

A kid along New Road used it for me. A little later, he grabbed his penis and told me to suck his dick. A kid. Angry at me for “not knowing my place”, apparently. For not being willing to put up with blind hate in spite of being an older female.

I have had an older man – a stranger – yell at me when he came out of a house at the end of Lake Road (Fratton Road) that my problem was that I did not know how to socialise, grabbing his penis when he said “socialise”.

What year is it again? 1855? 1567?

Along New Road, a young man yelled at me “I want to fuck you… in the arse.” I was out for a run. The only reason, of course. why any woman would want to be in good health is so that she looks more attractive to men. Sure, toots.

I’ve had “loves dick” written on the wall where I lived with an arrow pointing to my name, shortly after I moved to Portsmouth. An invitation to rape? At least an invitation to harass.

I have had “Slag!” yelled at me so many times, usually out of passing cars, that I lost count. (I had to look it up as I only knew the word in the context of steel works.) Also, “Fuck me!” a few times.

At the local main train station, young people called out to a cop, claiming that I had yelled “fuck off” at them, when in fact I had retorted “I am not your love!”. It’s become more generally used now and is no longer disrespectful, but “love” used to be intended as “toots”, in practice. It is an affectionate or familiar term of address, like honey or baby, but can be offensive when used to strangers, casual acquaintances, subordinates, etc.

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