The letter that I e-mailed that I wrote about in that other post went missing from that blog post, not surprisingly. Here is the link:
So as I mentioned before (here), we are currently getting almost no postal mail at all and I am still missing an envelope from the Home Office. Today, there was no postal mail all day, and I just left for Asda and there was no postal mail when I left, but when I came back just now at 21:25, there suddenly was an envelope for me.
This very likely means that someone has been holding on to an envelope and put it on the staircase while I was out as there is no light on the patio and in the narrow passage to the front building’s back door, where our postal mail gets delivered. (Anyway, postal mail does not get delivered in the evening.)
(And I bet I know who that horribly nasty person was! The same person I caught leisurely leaning back against the wall and perusing my mail with such excessive interest that it literally made my jaw drop. There were two envelopes for me, that day. He took his time before he put them on my staircase.)
I have now opened this letter that I just found – I thought it was from Murphy – and it turns out that the (non-existent!) “social worker” who contacted me a while back has been talking with someone else without my permission, in a way that I think
is would be illegal…
IF the letter was genuine!
Meanwhile, either, that person too apparently did not check the social worker register, and unless I have somehow been directed to an online social worker register and an online temporary social worker register that are both fake, this “social worker” simply does not exist.
In that case, I am not the only one who fell for her act, then! I feel good about that because I felt like an idiot when I discovered that there was no such person working for Portsmouth City Council.
But, wait, here is the thing.
The fact that she supposedly contacted that party indicates that either the letter I received was fake (the letter sounds unprofessional, too) OR it is yet another indication that there is no such social worker (but that there was contact and the person in question did not check the register). Because the “social worker”, if real, could not have known that the party she contacted has any ties to me at all. That information is not known at Portsmouth City Council either.
I do hope that the e-mails I sent today really did reach their destinations and that the responses I have received weren’t spoofs, but there is NO WAY TO VERIFY THIS!
Very sloppy, Portsmouth City Council!
(The fact that you do not seem to understand what spoofing is, well, that is your problem. You should not put the burden of your lack of awareness on your citizens, however.)
Thankfully, I also received a response from Shelter and from Stephen Morgan MP besides from someone at Portsmouth City Council. It makes it more likely that the response from the person at PCC was genuine.
For those of you out there who still don’t get it, I don’t operate from a poverty mindset. I don’t operate from a class mindset either. Most Brits do. They operate from weakness. There is a big difference. The fact that I do not behave like a typical (lower-class?) Brit does not mean that I am crazy. It means that I am much more aware of what is possible, both for me and in life in general, than most Brits.
It comes from having had a rich life with plenty of experiences before I moved to England and from having grown up in a much more egalitarian country.
That idea – of having a rich life with plenty of experiences and opportunities – seems to scare Brits. I remember an article in the Guardian back in 2010, that talked about how bad it was for people to have many choices. Excuse me?!
(I remember the response at the Coop in Southampton when I said I was looking for a Duvel or Hoegaarden. Alcohol is alcohol, beer is beer, what difference does it make. That is a common English view. I also remember standing in the supermarket after I moved to the US and seeing such a wide array of brands on the shelf, such a vast number of options, by contrast.)
This is one of the reasons why I’ve always felt that Brits live in all kinds of poverty. Mental poverty. A lack of ambition. A lack of drive. Sadly, a lack of values, too, very often.
(To clarify this very bluntly: England, overall, is very boring. I, for example, am supposed to sit at home and knit and watch telly, not much else. I may attend an embroidery group, perhaps. Thank you very much but that is not me.)
(And also, I don’t suffer fools gladly. But I usually don’t bother with letting them know either.)
I will probably take legal steps about this. Because the party who wrote to me – if the letter was genuine – has violated my rights. That party has violated my rights before. The previous time, I let it slip. This time, I sure as hell will not. And while I don’t suffer fools gladly and would much rather ignore them, sometimes it would be very wrong to ignore them.
23 February 2021: What this seems to be was simply another bucket-load of the highly illegal (criminal) Portsmouth-based brand of hate towards strangers or towards women. (The whole thing is so alien to me that I have no good idea what drives this phenomenon.) It’s no different from the bucket of liquid that was dumped over me after two young men said “good afternoon” to me from a window on the 1st floor along London Road/Kingston Road, near Kingston Crescent. Just as bizarre. Or coming home to find your door standing open and discovering the next morning that some really weird shit had been carried out in your bathroom while you went for a walk.
You can’t report it anywhere because it’s considered perfectly normal, in Portsmouth. You’re not supposed to “make a fuss” about it. There is this “Why do you get angry when we pull this kind of shit time and time again?”. I am supposed to respond like a sweet little doormat. And it is suggested that there is something wrong with me when I don’t respond like a doormat to this kind of shit. Excuse me?!
You go talk with Portsmouth City Council and they tell you that you must be crazy to want to put a stop to this kind of shit, such as anonymous people picking the locks when you’re out and carrying out crap in your flat when you’re out and hacking into your computer. They tell you that you must be crazy to want to support yourself financially like you used to before you moved to Portsmouth. Excuse me?! Are these people for real?
So they give you a pretty band-aid and the sad thing is that after so much abuse, you are grateful for the band-aid. But the band-aid does not change a thing about the situation.
So when Portsmouth City Council sends me another questionnaire on how it can attract more businesses, I have to keep saying that the first thing PCC must do is address Portsmouth’s vicious culture of hate and hostility.
Later, yesterday evening, while I wrote an e-mail about this matter, suddenly part of my e-mail was wiped off my screen – the bit about someone in Portsmouth having apologised to me in the past about some nasty and highly illegal thing that she had done; her apology was profoundly insincere, too, to add insult to injury – after which my browser tab reloaded itself. I found the message sitting among my drafts so I finished it and sent it off.