Further to the report I made with reference CDS-44476-23-4400-000, this is what I want you to do.
1. Investigate what is going on at the address 6E Kingston Road. It is criminality and what it entails that I am worried about. If they are a bunch of misogynistic jackasses, then I can deal with them myself. There are 4 or 5 different people who live in the flat but there are also many days in which there is nobody there at all. At times, there is a lot of activity in the bathroom, like they’re cleaning something in the tub, perhaps.
I am from Amsterdam. In Amsterdam, I once had drugs activities right next to me along the same staircase (growing cannabis in the attic and flat) and I was clueless. There also was a young, possibly pregnant woman back then. Other neighbours had told me that there had been drugs activities before but when the police showed up one day, I was still utterly clueless. I was in my 30s or 40s back then. I am in my 60s now.
The situation here is similar, but because we have a wooden staircase, the comings and goings in the flat below are highly noticeable. Also, in Amsterdam, people didn’t do things like ring my doorbell in the middle of the night or at 10 pm on a Friday evening (7 Feb) and then make an enormous racket for about half an hour that sounded as if someone was trying to break down the door.
In Amsterdam, I had noticed soil and plant remains in the staircase. Here, there was a lot of dried plant debris in front of the door. Rather than confronting them about it, I bought a doormat, but they’ve gotten a vacuum cleaner so there is no more debris and I have taken the mat away now.
The young woman used to be shouted at a LOT in a way that sounded very abusive. I told the guy that was there too at the time to stop shouting at her. On that occasion, she popped out of the door one day and pretend-sweep in front of her door. It was really odd and I have to wonder why on earth she did that. It was like “see what a good person I am”.
There is a guy who sometimes rings the doorbell, then shouts a lot at whoever opens the flat door, leaves again and then often leaves our front door open. The folks on the ground floor weren’t happy with it either; it was cold weather. I bought an alarm for the door and it got triggered a few times. If the alarm goes off, we are alerted to the fact that the front door is open and can go close it. The folks in 6E now switch off that alarm all the time and it may also why they got more pissed off with me and may have felt it was time to try to intimidate me a little more.
There is one young woman and a series of different young men in a series of similar unnoticeable smallish cars that are grey or silver-grey and one of which is beige-grey.
The reason why I bought a doormat and got them an extra set of keys is because I didn’t want to confront them (and figured they were dirt-poor). Portsmouth is often like a war zone and it’s quite exhausting. I am not always in the mood for confrontations. That said, I have for example on one occasion stopped a couple of meth heads with a baby in a stroller from dragging a driver out of his car in rush hour traffic along Kingston Road; his wife and kids were in the car. I step up when I can, but constantly having to brace yourself and not having any place where I can feel safe and relax is pretty exhausting. A lot of anonymous locals hate me with a vengeance; it’s probably Portsmouth’s extreme insularity that is behind it. I get pestered a lot, in all sorts of ways. For a while, one of the local Starbucks was a little safe haven for me, but that didn’t last long either.
More in next; 4000 chars max.
Further to the report I made with reference DS-44476-23-4400-000, this is what I want you to do. Continued.
2. Consider starting to work WITH the public instead of against it. Portsmouth has a weird ‘ndrangheta-style culture that makes it very hard to figure out who is doing what and why. Nobody ever knows anything about anyone or anything here. There is also a great deal of intimidation if you don’t shut up and talk about what is going on here. There is a great deal of misogyny and also a great deal of hate for older adults in Portsmouth. Portsmouth City Council couldn’t care less or does not know what to do about it either.
Here is the thing.
I have often seen drugs sales take place from my kitchen window.
I have seen people shoot up from my office window.
There was a lot of illegal rubbish dumping here that I have tried to address in various ways and that the PCC rubbish collectors were not happy about either. On one occasion, Hampshire Fire (HazMat) took action after I contacted them, but recently, things started to get worse again. The council does not care or is powerless. There also was vandalism and intimidation of tenants. (On one occasion, you showed up to assist the folks on the ground floor, but I’ve learned that you have to really hold your ground, not show anger or fear but adopt an air of authority to deal with aggressive locals so I have gotten youngsters to leave, later. However, again, it’s exhausting to have to live in such a way. It’s as if you’re in some kind of South-American guerrilla war zone or something.) I recently purchased a bunch of trespass warning signs and CCTV stickers and they seem to be helping. The rubbish collectors took some of the mess away at their own initiative. (We have a landlord who doesn’t care. Their offices have relocated without informing me: there is no doorbell and there is no letterbox at the new address. It is a real estate developer who just wants to be able to tear the lot down in the future and build something else.)
On one occasion, a bunch of youngsters were hiding out here; I saw them from my office window and took a photo when one of the lads was going through a black backpack. When I walked to the other side of my flat, I saw a car with doors open and (I think) running engine from my kitchen window and a police car behind that car but no officers in sight. Because you do not know the lay of the land, literally, and work against us rather than with us, when you do engage in such policing, your policing seems to be relatively ineffective.
Further to the report I made with reference DS-44476-23-4400-000, this is what I want you to do. Continued.
3. Please, do not contact me. Do not show up at my door, do not start banging on my door again and more than anything, do not start spreading vile rumors about me behind my back again. Some years ago, I put in a subject access request for some records because I wanted an official record of certain dates, nothing more. It was for court proceedings that I had started. To my shock and horror, I then discovered that Portsmouth Police officers had been saying a lot of really vile things about me behind my back. One of them had been lying to me, in my face, about action he was going to take. I was also pleasantly surprised to see that an unknown stranger had stood up for me on one of those occasions, but what I accidentally discovered then was really pretty chilly. I have almost zero faith left in the police but what else is there? Me, I want only one thing, namely to get out of crazy and often so hostile and vile Portsmouth. This place is really messed up. I’ve previously lived in the States, in Florida, and I spent most of my life as an adult in and around Amsterdam. Portsmouth is really messed up. I can’t remedy that and I didn’t cause it either but it is really wearing me out.
It all makes me feel like an utter idiot and also, I no longer like myself at all and I sure as hell wouldn’t want to work with me these days because the main things in my life are anger, fear and exhaustion these days. Every time I start to relax a little, new shit happens. (People who ring your doorbell when drunk and without their wits about them, that’s one thing. Sober people who ring your doorbell in the middle of the night or late in the evening just to intimidate you, that’s quite another.) I want out. I really want out. To be left in peace in any case and to be allowed to live my life again, like I was allowed to do anywhere else before I moved to Portsmouth, even though I know fully well that there is “stupid stuff” everywhere, also certainly in Amsterdam, but nothing like in Portsmouth. I want my life back. I was watching the animal chiropractor on YouTube yesterday evening and it suddenly hit me. Fuck! This is what I used to be like! This guy was behaving quite similarly to how I used to be, not constantly living in fear, not taking himself too seriously and saying a lot of stupid stuff that you say when you are goofing off. Here is the worrisome thing. I’d actually forgotten. I am so used to being angry and afraid very often now. It sucks. It sucks to see what a miserable angry and often afraid person you’ve become.
It sucks that you’re often thinking along the lines of “how can I make myself look more intimidating so that people will leave me in peace”.
Fashion accessories and the like that give you more edge, such as metal chains. Looking very angry. Pretending that other people are air, too.
At the moment, I have a fake gun sitting in my Amazon shopping cart. (It’s a toy gun; I think it shoots elastic bands.) I won’t buy this, but I do this kind of thing often. Add things like tough-looking rubber jackets and what not to my shopping basket. Anything that I hope will put people off when they see it on me so that it will make them leave me in peace. I’ve actually purchased a taser at some point, years ago (probably because of the lock-picking, which I didn’t discover until Easter 2015 I think it was), but it turned out to be for the US market (different voltage). I spend a lot on all kinds of security measures, too.
For a long time, I entertained plans to work with wildlife, not only because I would really enjoy that but also because you can address issues in society that way too, without naming it, without putting that stamp on it. But “they” weren’t having that either. I get along with English wildlife fine. It doesn’t have any class hangups or issues with poverty. If I could work with wildlife, then I would have had something positive to balance all the negativity which would make it much easier for me to deal with negative behaviors and if you can get people to be a bit more compassionate towards urban wildlife, you can get them to feel less useless and maybe make them more compassionate in general. It’s not about “saving the world”.
And yes, if you’d legalize things like cannabis, then the criminality surrounding it would drop away. Then it would not be possible any longer for young single women and others to be pressured to engage in it either, but they might instead perhaps even be able to work in that industry legally.
For the record, there was a lot of door opening and closing of the entrance door in the flat below this morning, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. I just want out. I want out. I want my life back. I want to be able to do things like choose my own electricity supplier again, like I used to, and make a living again, like I used to and no longer get the jeering and sneering, and the locks picked and all that.
I don’t want to talk. There is nothing left to talk about. (I’ve been here since early 2009, after all.) I just want out. I want to be able to live in peace again, live my life. I just want my life back. I should have left in 2013, when I could. I just wasn’t paranoid enough to realize that my locks had been getting picked for a long time and no animal cruelty had occurred yet. Back then, I thought that lack of money was my problem (in terms of surviving locally). It wasn’t.
I’ve had enough. I even have had people stand in front of my door, knocking on it without having rung the doorbell, and loudly whisper “When she opens the door, you grab her.” Very funny. Besides a shitload of hacking and deliberate sabotage, which often makes me so powerless, I’m now having the folks and visitors of the flat under mine ring my doorbell at odd hours. The local hateful shit NEVER stops, no matter where I go, locally. I think that that is fucking ridiculous.
(Any landlord nonsense, btw, doesn’t bother me. It would just underline what I’ve been saying for so long about what’s been going on for so long.)
I had wanted to be long gone and yes, I could have left about half a year ago, if folks had given me the chance to do just that. I want out, I want out, I want out of whatever the fuck it is that goes on here in Portsmouth. But right now, I just want the chance to get down from my adrenaline high.
But the problem with Portsmouth is that once you start to relax a little again, there is always new incomprehensible stupid crap. So I want out. I really want out.
Also, any debris that is currently in front of the door below is simply a little shedding from the coconut fiber doormat. (Before anyone notices that and local folks start calling me “delusional” again.)
In addition, one big mistake I made is that I didn’t start avoiding the folks from the motorcycle shop next-door from the get-go, from the moment that toad barked at me by way of introduction. We used to have one neighbor in this 3-flat building who used the door that I use now; it struck me as odd but now I understand why he used it. I would have avoided so many unpleasantries if I had used that door from the beginning. If we take the front door, it’s like living with the folks next-door because we see them much more often than we see each other in this building and there is no avoiding them… unless you start using the other door and exit and enter via the side alley.
By the way, how I often feel these days, that is probably quite similar to how a lot of police officers feel. Like they’re constantly under siege, constantly needing to brace themselves, always living with fear as a result and getting angry over it in protest. Also, because they’re cops, they run into the similar kind of blind hate that I often run into. It hollows you out, it wears you down.
23:08: Okay, adrenaline gone, but I still want to be left in peace from now on. Finally finally finally. I want to be allowed to live MY life and make a living, whether you like it or not. Portsmouth is messed up. Whatever it is that is going on here, it’s messed up and I want nothing to do with it.