Walking back from Lidl, I run into two young people who are screaming their heads off at a family in a car. This is at this notorious spot next to Ma’s in Kingston Road, where you need X-ray vision to be able to turn into the road.
They have a child in a buggy. They walk on, leaving an utterly flabbergasted family behind. “Fucking hell.” the guy says calmly, clearly stunned. Ethnic minorities, by the looks of it, but clearly English. “Just laugh about it.” I tell them.
To my frustration, the young female goes after the car again a few minutes later, and then the male runs after the car. Probably as high as a kite on meth?
I’m not having it.
Worried that he will pull the driver out of the car in busy traffic, I decide to interfere and yell very loudly “Don’t be ridiculous!” and “Hey! Stop it!”
The female turns and runs towards me and I had just spotted that that had distracted the dude before she starts shouting into my face from a distance of about five centimetres.
Good. Because I thought she was going to hit me and I am not feeling well so I can’t run away.
“Nobody tells me in my own country what to do!” Some stuff about her child, which she has just abandoned at least twice. “Go back to where you came from!”
“I’m from Amsterdam!” I yell as she walks away again.
“Go back then!”
I retort “I would love to but you won’t let me.”
“You won’t let me!”
I say sorry to a woman who’s walking by, clearly not happy with this kind of thing that you run into all the time when you live here instead of in Gerald Vernon-Jackson’s pretty little street. She smiles at me. A genuine smile.
I pass the young woman and her child at a bus stop later. I sensed that she was aware of me approaching and I sense that she is not keen on another confrontation. I walk by without paying any attention.
The guy had disappeared somewhere between Ma’s and the bus stop.
I’m exhausted. But I think I achieved my goal.