A lush 20 degrees C today!!!
I seem to have caught a Dutch cold virus on public transport. The heat helps with that, too.
Not only is the contrast with the widespread misery and poverty of Portsmouth utterly surreal, it’s also wonderfully refreshing to no longer have all kinds of nastiness flung at oneself on a daily basis.
People around here are friendly and normally respectful. They notice me, sure. They don’t obsess over me. Why would they? They have fulfilling lives of their own.
They’re certainly not flinging all kinds of filthy contempt at me.
I’m often still really guarded and I often still subconsciously expect the usual nastiness to rear its ugly head and peek around the corner all of a sudden, certainly now that I know that Portsmouth was far nastier than I imagined, as it turned out.
But there’s no need for that here.
My fairly typically English paranoia – aka insularity – is slowly disappearing. I don’t have to look over my shoulder all the time here, to guard my back.
In retrospect, I have a hard time believing and accepting how vile and vicious Portsmouth is and I’m really taken aback by the realization that it was a far bigger stinking corrupt cesspool than I even thought.
(That is in spite of already having said that it has a ‘ndrangheta-style culture.)
I didn’t want to go on being stuck in that war zone. I got so tired of everyone and their brother and sister always gunning for everyone else all the time, one way or another, there. I got so tired of the fighting. The place is out of control.
So many people there were so tightly wound, so tense, so ready to snap.
I got so fed up with all the crap and the hatred, the abuse, the sabotage, all of it.
Such a vile sadistic shit show of a place, Portsmouth. Far worse than I thought.
I feel so sorry for everyone there who remains stuck there and continues to get screwed by what seems to constitute “the establishment”. Folks who have no shame, no ethics, no morals and in their view, the boundless right to abuse others.
It still makes my stomach turn.
I couldn’t do it any longer. I had to get out. I had to.
The place was killing me quite literally, suffocating me to death in all sorts of ways.
I couldn’t do it any longer.
The way I broke away enabled a clear break, psychologically, even though it may hamper me in practical ways, but, oh well. I’m leaving filth, contempt and abuse behind me.
It’s my understanding that they callously killed my pet bird. I’m actually at peace with that. The past three years were the best of her life. She deserved them. She had empathy for other creatures, I noticed.
Portsmouth’s establishment’s so evil that it still makes my skin crawl to think back to it. These people stop at nothing. Quite scary, really.
I used to vote for these cold-hearted scumbags.
I get where all the people who told me that they don’t vote are coming from now.
The level of filth these politicians bathe in is really quite something, but not in a positive way.
This was my pet bird. She would often sleep there, under the fleece blanket, against my chest for around an hour. Then she would wake up and preen her feathers. Next she would fly away, for a sip of water.