So, I have moved from Leicester to Nottingham… but more on that another time.
When we were moving yesterday, the miserable old white British woman at number 51 called the council about us having furniture outside our house… because, y’know… we were moving. This old lady is often to be seen sneering at anyone who doesn’t meet her expectations of who should be allowed in public. Her counterpart, three doors down from our old place was the old man who would stand in the doorway staring daggers at any brown skinned person who happened to walk past. They have seen me transition through their net curtains and so I have received nothing but sneering glares from them for several years. Truly lovely people, you can imagine.
We had an old bedframe, two chests of drawers and a fridge freezer that we ultimately didn’t take, and we were waiting for the bin men to come clear the rubbish bins away from our back gate so we could put these items back in the yard to keep them safe for the council to pick up instead. Of course within minutes of Rachel’s removals van leaving someone from the council arrived who spoke to us about it while the old bag just watched from her doorway, face like a buffalo’s arse. Obviously she had called them while the van was still there. This person from the council soon realised that we were being responsible with it all and even gave us some advice with regards to getting everything picked up even after we had moved, which was handy.
While all this was going on, we were approached by two absolutely lovely young Romanian women, who politely asked if they could take the chests of drawers and fridge freezer. Despite their English being pretty basic (though superior to half the people I used to know down south), they were very chatty and friendly. They stuck around after loading up everything into their car and chatted with us while we waited for the landlord to come view the place, talking about their families and the experiences they have had in Leicester. All the while this nasty old bag across the road just glared through her curtain nets at us like we were some kind of demonic cabal.
They told us about how badly their landlord treated them, how they wanted to move to a better house and asked to see inside ours. Despite the damp, mold and other issues our useless landlord never fixed in the time we were there, they asked for the Landlord’s contact details in order to inquire about renting the place because it was bigger and cleaner than where they were crammed in, and also cheaper. It truly touched me how someone could look at this damp, poorly maintained shit-pit and see it as an improvement over their current conditions. It also stunned me to think there were worse landlords out there than ours.
It also made me think of Nigel Farage and his comments about people not wanting Romanians moving in next door to them. It then made me think back on all the positives and negatives I have experienced from people in the street. Having lived in such a diverse, multi-cultural neighbourhood for five and a half years, the only issues I have ever had… obnoxiousness, abuse, late night disturbances, fights breaking out… it’s all been British people. Even if it were true that Eastern Europeans are flooding over here (which they aren’t), I have never personally had a bad encounter with anyone from the old soviet bloc. I would rather live in a street of polite, friendly people who happen to be Romanian, than nasty, spiteful, racists just because they happen to be Brits.
Come one, come all and bring culture, diversity and civilisation with you. We seem to be running out of it here.
So Mr Farage, you tried to tell us all that we wouldn’t want Romanians living next door. Well I would have been delighted to call these people my neighbours, and I am sure that leaves plenty of room out in Romania to ship all these nasty old bags and bastards to for a crash course in multiculturalism. I would consider that more than a fair trade.