The big Saturday stink

Today it is Saturday and in my house that means smelly food day. I suppose I should be grateful that the person only has time to cook on Saturdays! I lit the incense burner to make the air in my flat breathable.
When I cleaned one of my cupboards I found a cockroach, so now I also got cockroaches on top of the mice. Well, it looks as if I will not have to spend Christmas alone, after all!

The other day I heard some noise in the hallway and it was the schoolchildren returning home from school. They have built a new school around the corner and the kids pass my house on their way to and from the school. They are very naughty!
The boys used to kick our intercom for the main door, which disabled it and the landlord had to call in a service. Obviously, this will in the long run increase our rents. The maintenance man put a big metal plate across the intercom to stop this. I think there must be one girl living in this house that also attends the school and when she opens the door the boys comes in and mess about.
I was thinking of the painting I put in the entrance hall and went down to have a look on what they were up to. I arrived just in time to see one of the boys throwing my new flowers and pots about, so much for my curve appeal. I totally lost my rag and shouted to the boys to get out.
I am planning to find out where the girl lives and have a chat with her parents, the landlord and the blooming school. It's one of those Academy Schools that sprout up like mushrooms everywhere.


I bought a plastic Christmas tree in Brixton Market to put in the hallway to cheer people up. I involved a neighbour and her daughter in the decorating of the tree. The little girl broke two of the baubles for the Christmas tree within two seconds! I showed her how to carefully put them on the tree and eventually we had ourselves a lovely Christmas tree.

The Christmas decorations slowly spread across the building and the 2^nd floor also got a tree now. There are hope for the future!

Annual Christmas madness

My Christmas frenzy kick starts with the Christmas market at the Swedish Church. I was there early this year to get the food for my Annual Christmas Dinner that I have the 1st of Advent every year.

After the shopping the cleaning commences! It took me two days to make the place spotless, cleaning windows, floors, dusting and put all the Christmas decorations up. I was exhausted but the end-result was great:

The dinner went well and my friends enjoyed it and now I sit here staring at the blissful decorations and an empty flat.

I do love Christmas but it is also a hard time for me, thinking about lost childhood, lost loved ones and an uncertain future. I mixed pot really.
The question is what is Christmas really about for me?
I am not Christian so I don't celebrate the birth of Jesus. I am more of a pagan and a Viking.
The Christmas is obviously highly commercialised and as a shopaholic I spent loads on Christmas decorations. So I have done my bit to save the economy!
Christmas is also nostalgic and promotes the happy family like a sort of TV commercial where everybody is happy, healthy and rich. I will spend Christmas on my own in poverty, illness and sadness so it doesn't really fit the average Christmas image.
I do think it is important with traditions and to split the year up in different themes like Christmas, New Year, Easter, and Midsummer and so on. Otherwise I think life could just become some long meaningless big nothingness.


I went for a talk by Dorothy Nicolle titled All About Christmas and it was about Christmas traditions in England in a historic perspective. (See Nicolle's website )
It was a really good talk and the speaker mentioned the pagan rituals as well. She reminded me that December is the darkest month and we need to celebrate the coming of the light (and hope). The 22nd of December is the winter solstice, which means that from then on the days starts to get lighter and the spring is coming. Hurray!
That's what Christmas is all about; a celebration of the light, hope, a new beginning and a better future for all.


So, I like to wish you all a very, very merry Christmas and a happy New Year!

A damp on my Christmas preparations

I have spent two weeks scraping my window frames from mouldy magnolia paint that made the window look dirty. The damp in this house would take over if I didn't keep it in check with damp seal, tea tree oil and white paint. Not to mention my four boxes of damp crystals strategically placed throughout the flat. I empty about 500 ml water from them every month, water that, without the boxes would stay on my stuff and increase the damp problem in my flat.

As I was scraping the windows I spotted the soiled baby nappies, leaves, used baby wipes, cotton buds and piles of leaves outside the main entrance. I decided to fix the curve appeal of the building and clean the place up. I armed myself with latex cloves, a shovel and bin bags and went outside and started to sweep the street.
It turned out to be a great way to meet your neighbours. I must say that the people living on my road are really nice, friendly and social. People passing whilst I was cleaning up gave me little cheerful comments and greetings. One of the neighbours in my house joined in and helped me fill one bin bag, despite being dressed for work. He said I was his hero!
One of the lovely African women stopped for a chat and to show me her newborn twins. They were gorgeous. God knows how they all can fit into their small flat, two adults and three children in the same space I live in on my own and I feel cramped!

I bought two plants and pots and placed them outside the door to finish off my new stylish curve appeal as Kirstie Allsop and the lot talks about in their posh property programmes. Here in Brixton, I try to live the dream on a shoestring, my plants and pots cost me £3.00!


Now when the house is sorted I am ready to start the big Christmas clean up of my flat!

Cross addictions

The other day I went to the lovely Geffrye Museum, which is a museum about the middle classes’ homes from 1600 to present time. The visit made me realise that I am definitely not a part of the middle class, like the rest of my family, instead I have fallen down to the working class or rather below the working class – the impoverished class. I don't even have a sodding job, do I?

Last Friday, Simone and I went for our annual Christmas shopping at IKEA in Edmonton. We go there to shop for my Swedish Christmas dinner that I have on the first of Advent every year. I really enjoy it and we were there for around five hours and I managed to buy seven new Christmas decorations.

I have slowly started to understand that I have developed a cross addiction to my alcoholism and compulsive overeating, I am also a shopaholic. But this year I also realised that I have a compulsive need to buy Christmas decorations. It might sound funny but it is not! I spend money I cannot afford to spend; my closet is stuffed with Christmas decorations. I have nowhere to put them. I am drowning in the blasted things! Still I went and bought yet another decoration yesterday. If I stay indoors today, I might be able to abstain from buying anything more...
A friend of mine once said, ‘addiction is like having five bins but only four lids and once you put the lid down on one addiction, a new one appears.’

I am also obsessive about the Christmas itself. We are in mid November and I really have to control myself not to put up my decorations quite yet. I will try to resist the urge until the last Friday of November, and then I will go mental!

Link to Geffrye Museum

Underground banking

The other day I met Brenda in Streatham, where she was collecting money sent from Somalia and we ended up in Somaliland a la Streatham. We walked into a small little shop and had to go into the back following a small narrow aisle full with items to sell and secret rooms. In one room women where having tea and did business. We entered a back room where some men were talking money and we had to sit and wait. Eventually one of the men served Brenda and she could collect lots of money in pound and dollars. I didn't know this existed! That is what I love about London – the cultural diversity.

Life in cheap housing

I live in a crazy house in Brixton, not the house but the people in it.
The neighbour above me argues with her partner every night! She has a very loud and powerful voice that I and everybody else in the house have to endure. She barks at him about things he should or shouldn't have done. I am in bed thinking to myself, ‘why does she not just leave him?’ She doesn't like they way he behave and she seems to be unhappy with his lack of attention to her needs. But still she stays with him!
I used to be like that before, put up with shit from partners, when I was completely consumed by my illness. Now when I am stronger and love myself I have healthy boundaries for what I think is acceptable behaviour towards me.
A relationship where the man constantly ignores what I say is like living in a very small box  - it stops you from growing. I deserve a better life and relationship than that.
I wish my neighbour could move on and start to love herself so that she and everybody else in the house could sleep in the night and start to enjoy life again.

One of the neighbours on my floor is cooking seriously smelly food. The odour from it seeps in under my door and makes my breathing difficult. I lit incense and oil burners but nothing can take the smell away. The question is how do you tell your neighbour that their food smell shit without being rude?

Some of my neighbours like to use their windows as a form of rubbish chute and throw out condoms, used nappies and tampons. Some people just can't bother to walk the five meters to the bins so instead they just dump their rubbish outside the main entrance. This can explain why we got mice in the house!
I struggle to see the logic of this. Yes, we do live in a dump but you are only going to get the place as nice as you make it.

A neighbour and I tried to fix the back garden with plants and garden furniture for all to enjoy but people just keep on dumping things out there. I will not let this face me, next spring I will have a go at it again.

This year I will put a Christmas tree in the staircase to make the place nice for Christmas. It is going to be interesting to see how long the tree will stand. Maybe I should go around the house and take bets...

The illegitimate royal family

I watched a history programme on 4oD the other night and Tony Robinson showed some evidence that suggested that King Edward IV in fact was a bastard and as a result the wrong family sit at the throne of England. The real King of England is some dude living in Australia! There you go, that is how it is with the nobility – it is all a fake.
I think it's time we drop the titles and just accept that all humans are equal and therefore silly titles are redundant. Sir this and Lord that is all rubbish and old fashion.
Not to mention the stupid Mr, Mrs, Ms and Miss you have to tick whenever you fill in a form. Dear reader, please note that there is only one option for men and three for women. The female titles all relates to a woman’s status in relation to a man whilst men are always a Mr in their own right, regardless of marital status. I think next time I get a form like that I will tick the other-option and write Genius Eva Wall.
Let us all stop this silliness and just call each other by our first names, after all we are all just humans.

When I came to England some twelve years ago I was offended by the language police. You are not allowed to swear!!!! What the f--k is that about? Talk about having the protestant hypocrisy running the show. To swear would only be a bad thing if you are religious and believe there is a God and a life after death in hell or paradise according the level of swearing in your life on earth. However, for a person like me that don't believe there is a mighty God in heaven that will punish me for my use of language the whole notion that people can tell me how to express myself is offensive. Surely, they have the right to have the opinion that my, or anybody else’s language is foul but who are they to tell me how to talk? I can agree that a person that swear left, right and centre not exactly come across as the most intelligent person but if it rocks their boat then I say, go ahead and swear your heart out!
Personally, if I hit a toe or hurt myself there is a certain level of release in shouting shit! Shouting sugar does not really do it for me. So let me suggest that from today we call each other by our first names and we let people speak as they choose and swear as much as they like. How else could you express the Tory politics and their budget cut – it's fucking shit and it stinks!

The week of silly suggestions

Yes, it has been a week of silly suggestions coming out from the Conservative Party Conference. I have become scared of listening to the news in dread of hearing yet another stupid idea of theirs.
First, they suggested that inmates should work for private companies. Apparently, it's time for prisoners to get out of their beds and start to work and a small fraction of the profit from the prisoners’ work will go to victim support. But does this not mean that the punishment for the prisoners kind of increases? They been judged to stay a certain time behind bars as a punishment for their crimes but now the Government suggest they should go to the salt mines and do some slave work as well. Will this result in shorter time behind bars then, or?
They already have this system in place in America and there we can see some worrying results. The industry has developed into a new form of slavery where black and Hispanic inmates are exploited as cheap labour. In America you can also see a strange situation where crimes go down but jail population goes up. Read more about the effects of the Government’s suggestion will have in an article by Vicky Pelaez on Global Research website
Secondly, the conservatives want to make the GPs responsible for the local NHS budget. Instead of having a democratic system where tax payers get NHS care based on “equal rights for all” decided by elected politicians the conservatives would like the GP to decide who will get treatment and who will not. As if postcode lottery was not bad enough as it is. I live in a poor area in South London and many people in my area suffer from poor health, often generated from their poverty. The conservative’s new suggestion will mean that my GP will not be able to provide treatment and care for all people that need it. Instead the doctor has to choose between his patients. I can only see this suggestion as being extremely unfair. So inequality must be what the conservatives mean when they talk about ‘Together in the National Interest.’
Thirdly, Cameron wants to cut down on benefits for everyone that can work so that they can no longer live on other peoples taxes! But what he actually says with such statement is that people on sickness benefits are fraudsters that really are fit and healthy but just too lazy to work, which is not true. Most people on sickness benefits are really sick.
What about the MPs deductions for toilet seats, reparations on their homes and other silly deductions, are they not an obvious abuse of tax payers’ money?
The question here is; who is the real parasite in this society? The sick and poor or the rich and greedy?
Personally, I have worked and paid taxes since I was fourteen and I have no children, I do not drive a car, I live in the city and I don't smoke. Should I then, according to Cameron, pay less tax than the people that does all the above?
But if we all discussed like that, nobody would have to pay taxes and then the state will fall apart and we get anarchy. I think Cameron and his friends' own greed got the better of them on the conference and they all got a major brain fart!
And when it comes to the cut in child benefits for families with one ‘high’ earner, don't even get me started!

This is the reason why I have spent the week watching the history programmes on Demand on 4 and stayed clear of the news.

Extreme right

Recently there was a general election in Sweden and, to my horror, the extreme right got into to the Riksdagen (the Parliament). They got twenty blooming seats!
Will people never learn? Through history we can see how extreme right always win seats when the economy is in crisis. I guess people are looking for quick fixes and come up with the idea that kicking out all foreigners and stop immigration will solve the problem. But they fail to see that the real parasites in our society are the bankers. They are like vampires that suck the blood out of ordinary working people.
Speaking about bankers, Simone and I went to Waddesdon Manor, which used to be one of the houses of the Rothschild family, the famous banking family. I must say I have never seen a house in such extreme wealth. It was on par with the pharaohs’ of Egypt or the King of Brunei. It was filthy rich. I could not even afford to buy a door knob in the blooming house!

The question in my head, as I walked around the house, was how is it possible for one person to become so rich? Does anyone single person deserve such richness? I mean, what have they done to become filthy rich that is so much better than anyone else done? Bless the Rothschild family for their luck in life, but I can't help to think that someone, somewhere in the family must have done something that isn't really morally correct.


Apparently, the first Rothschild came from a Jewish Ghetto in Frankfurt and managed, in only one generation to become successful international bankers. The question is how did that happen? How do you go from nothing to mega-rich without actually selling anything solid? Can you do that without taking from someone else, walking over somebody’s body or somehow taking advantage of someone else’s misery?
How many of the so called noble and rich did not have their wealth from slavery or exploiting the poor as landlords? It's not surprising that human trafficking is the fastest growing industry in world today. History has a tendency to repeat itself.

The bankers have caused a situation where 66% of peoples’ gross income goes to pay bank interests (for mortgages and credit cards). My bank even offered me credit, to me! I am poor as pauper! The banks obviously have started just as before the bank crisis, with reckless lending, and we, the people are left to pay the bill of their party.
Basically we are back to square one, where the rich men own the poor just like under feudalism, when landowners owned the poor dependant tenants.

This week, the sitting right wing Government decided to raise the minimum wages with a few pennies, which would not make a huge difference to the poor. Especially when you think about the cuts in the public spending, this will mean that the poor are worse off than before. (Interestingly, two thirds of the people on minimum wage are women; despite that 50% of the workforce is women. Talk about overrepresentation of women on minimum pay! Sod all people who say that feminism is not needed toady!)
In the same time HSBC made a £7 billon profit between January and June 2010, that is more than £38 million a day (according to Mail online).
Surely, there are other ways to sort the debt than cutting the public spending? For example, get the troops out of Iraq and Afghanistan, stop the imbecile ghost chase on terrorists, tax hedge funds, increase tax for people earning over £100,000 per year and stop the bankers’ bonuses!

Sod the Market

I got a mouse in my flat!
The other night I heard some rustling from a plastic bag under my bed. It was 4am in the morning so I was too lazy to get up and investigate. In my head I was hoping it was something inside the bag trying to get out rather than the other way round!
The next morning I had a look and, to my horror, there were signs of a mouse trying to claw its way into the bag. I shucked the whole thing out and put down a sticky mouse trap by the hole in the floor under my bed.
The following night I woke up, again at 4am, by the sound of the little mouse getting stuck on the glue trap. It sounded like Fred Astaire was tap dancing under my bed. The little sucker managed to get free of the glue trap and I could hear the little pet scratching in another corner. This just proves that glue traps are useless!
The maintenance guy was here and blocked the hole in the floor. I seriously hope this is the end of my little mouse’s night visits to my flat.

In the meanwhile the Government had a brainwave and noticed the budget is of the charts and their solution? To cut the sickness budget!
Now, how are they going to do that? Telling sick people to work? Forcing employers to employ sick people? Imagine a job interview where the applicant says, 'I have schizophrenia and a multiple personality disorder', which brings an ability to multitask into a whole new different level! However, I doubt such comments will lead to fulltime employment.
Wouldn’t it be better for the Government to cancel the Pope’s visit to London, which will cost in the region of 12 million pounds? Surely the rich Catholic Church can pay for the blooming visit if they invited him! And don’t even get me started on the costs of the effing Olympic Games 2012, which I could not even afford a ticket to and even if I could, there will be no left after all the politicians got their free VIP tickets...
A third option for the Government to cut costs is to make the bankers pay for the economical crises, which they themselves created in the first place. In July 2010 the banks' profits where in the region of £8.4bn. I say tax the bloody bankers and stop their bonuses. The most important thing in a country is the welfare of its people, which include the sick ones, so sod the market!

Sister Act

This week I got my hands on the hot ticket, Sister Act with Whoopi Goldberg, I and the girls enjoyed the show. It was bloody brilliant! I strongly recommend it, go and see it. I laughed my way through the whole thing.

As we left the theatre we passed a night club, next door to Palladium, where some clubbers were out for a fag. The girls, in their early twenties, were dressed in skimpy dresses and 6” stiletto heels. The boys on the other hand were dressed in baggy jeans and scrubby shoes! How fair is that on a scale of one to ten?
When I came to London I was surprised to realise that the F-word was bad, if you say you are a feminist, people look at you as you said you eat shit or kill people for a hobby! When I said that I am a feminist in a session at my rehab, I was told by the counsellor that I had extremist views! Bloody hell, feminism only means that you believe that men and women are equally worth. Oxford dictionary explain feminism as “the advocacy of women’s rights on the ground of the equality of the sexes”. Not exactly extreme thinking, is it?
All humans are equally worth and should therefore have the same access to education, housing, pensions, pay, work and freedom to choose their lifestyle etc. The equal human rights are absolute, which means that each person’s individual worth stands above any religious or political opinions.

So sisters and brothers do not be afraid to use the f-word. Use it and be proud!

My sis sent me some photos from her last night out crayfishing, as you do in Sweden. Argh, how I long for the Swedish nature and the summer nights...

Abolish stoning!

Apparently, a woman in Iran is waiting to be stoned to death for adultery! I just can't believe that barbaric tradition is still going on in the 21st century. In 2008 I read an article, in the Metro (Oct 29 2008), called “Woman adulterer is stoned to death”. The article told about an execution of a woman that allegedly breached Islamic law in Somalia. To be stoned to death means that the woman’s feet and hands are tied up and then she is buried to her neck and then stoned to death. It's a savaged practice. You can read more about the Iranian woman, and what you can do to save her, by clicking on the link to the Iran Solidarity blog that I follow.

The scary thing is that people are trying to make sharia courts legal in the UK. The suggestion is that sharia courts should be given powers to rule on Muslim civil cases such as divorce, domestic violence and financial disputes, if both parties’ voluntary complies. However, the question is, given the practice of social control of women, can Muslim women really have a free choice around the sharia law, without being a victim of social exclusion or even worse, honour killing? I find it repulsive that a so-called democratic state might allow such practice within its borders. Who will defend the women who are forced to follow the sharia court against their will? Where is the democracy in that? Who will guard their human rights?
The fact that the idea of sharia laws has even been discussed in the parliament is astonishing. The fundamental base for an equal and democratic society is that there is only one law, equal to all. The thought that people could choose legal system according to individual preference is ridiculous.
Sharia law is not dealing with minor issues, it is about women’s human rights and that the same law for all is a democratic principle. Read more on the One Law for All website.

Blues

I have started to paint, using acrylic paint on canvas. I absolutely love it! Not too sure my friends do though since they have to live with my masterpieces on their walls. I tell them they will be valuable once I get famous and rich!

This week I had to go back to my young and handsome pharmacist again to measure out my third set of support stockings. He and I are quite good at measuring stockings now and he is the closest I get to physical intimacy. Talk about being desperate, looking forward to get “physical” with your pharmacist!

I am still waiting for things to turn around for the better and for my new life, after rehab, to materialise itself in front of my eyes. However, things are not quite moving forward as fast as I would like it to. Especially when it comes to my health.

I just can't get my head around the fact that I am pushing fifty; personally, I feel fourteen going on fifteen. Sadly my body does not!
I have now developed some arthritis in my hips and possibly fingers. Working the keyboard is painful and so is it trying to walk after sitting down for a while. I crouch, like a cavewoman, until my joints softens up and starts to work properly. I make me feel really old and infirm. Not to mention, unsexy. My biggest worry is that this will make me unable to shag, being unable to spread my legs.
I thought ageing was only about getting a few grey hairs and wrinkles. Nobody told me it is so bloody painful!

This week an old boyfriend of mine turned fifty one, blimey, it feel surreal. To me he is still twenty eight or something, as he was when we were together. Not some old geezer without hair. However, I don't know whether he has or has not lost his hair though since I have not seen him in seventeen years or so. Since he is an American and I am a Londoner, we only communicate via emails and the odd phone call. His voice still sounds the same though...

I did my first chair in an AA meeting and it went well. So maybe, after all, I am slowly changing and moving forward. A year ago, I would not have been able to talk for fifteen minutes in front of a room full of strangers and still feel confident about whom I am. Today I like myself. That is an achievement in its self. I am doing okay.

Tribunal

My friend Brenda moved into my house this week, hurray! Now we are in and out of each other’s flats several times a day. I can so see myself running in the staircases in my pyjamas and slippers with a tea cup in my hand. It’s only two doors down the corridor. I will try not to stalk her too much; Brenda might like some privacy...

I went to a Tribunal this week regarding my appeal against the department of Work and Pensions, Employment and Support Allowances (ESA). I was so nervous. In my head the people on the tribunal would be something similar to Stasi officers, with grim faces and suits. As I entered the room there were two cute old ladies at the table, looking like two grandmothers, smiling friendly at me. I won my appeal and the whole process took less than five minutes! I seriously have to stop worrying about silly things like tribunal hearings etc. Life is too short for that shit. To help me stop my obsessive worrying I am having CBT once a week. I am sure I will be cool as cucumber one day - Jah, Man!

On the way to the Tribunal I read the Metro (Tuesday 3 August 2010, page 15) and there was an article about ESA. The story told about a man that got his ESA support stopped two days after his brain surgery! ESA said he was fit to work despite the doctors saying differently. ESA is taking the piss!
I presume, the whole idea with ESA is to stop the benefit fraud in the UK. The state thinks that most people that say they are unable to work due to ill health are lying in order to live on the state. Mind you, ESA gives you 65.40/week and in London you can't survive on it. So it's not a particular cunning plan for the lazy benefit fraudsters.
I am pretty sure that you can find a fraudster or two amongst all the people claiming benefits, possibly even 10% of them. But that does not give the state the right to treat the other 90% as fraudsters! In a modern democracy you are presumed innocent until proven guilty, not so?

As I see it, ESA must be the most ineffective and costly Governmental department in the history of mankind. They have offices up and down the country with ESA officers, making decisions of the cases. They also have call centres, manned by a private company taking queries, not able to give you any answers, from the public. There are another private company that does the medical assessment of all applicants, which must be a goldmine for the company in question. This private company just ignore the medical assessments the applicants’ GPs already made (on the cost of NHS, which then becomes a waste of money since their judgement is ignored by ESA!).
Then there is a private company that does all the obligatory seven “Pathways to Work”- sessions you have to attend. Each meeting takes 30 minutes and is basically a chat about how you are and in practice completely pointless. Not to forget the cost of the new section within Home Office that has to process all applicants with foreign background to make sure they are legally in the country despite the fact that you have to show a passport and your immigration documents when you apply for the damn thing in the first place. If they don't believe the passport to be proof enough, why ask for it then?
The worst thing of it all is that ESA almost always refuse to allow the support on the grounds that the applicant get zero point on the medical assessment by the private company, this results in that everybody has to lodge an appeal against ESA, including myself. This can explain why it took ten months before I got my appeal hearing and why the waiting room at the tribunal was jam-packed with people!
All this money is wasted just to get the 10% benefit fraudsters in the country. It would probably be cheaper to just give the bloody £65.40/week to the few benefit fraudsters and spend the money saved on education or NHS!

The Politics of Eugenics

My sis was visiting me this week and we went to Tate Gallery and saw an exhibition, Photographic Typologies, by a German photographer called August Sander (1876-1964). Most of the pictures were from the 20-ies and 30-ies and a stalk reminder of the chilling obsession to typology people in to different categories that were so common during that era. I got a bad taste in my mouth as I looked at the different types of people, like 'unemployed' and 'idiots'. Sander’s son was a socialist and as a result he were imprisoned during Nazi Germany. I viewed Sander's photos as a political criticism of the Nazis.

The exhibition reminded me that we still haven't moved away from the stereotyping Nazi Germany was built on, the political eugenics.
In Sweden for example, the ruling party, Moderaterna, is talking about decreasing, Folkhälsotalet, the amount of people on sick benefit. The terminology Fredrik Reinfeldt uses brings my thoughts to the eugenics of the Nazi Germany.
People are forced to rely on sick benefits to survive because of ill health or unemployment, not because they have moral defects!
Fredrik Reinfeldt is making drastic cuts in the welfare state and building an unfair society similar to the poverty stricken societies Charles Dickens portrays in his books. Reinfeldt's politics is regressive and will bring Sweden back to 19th century.

The political climate in Tory’s England is also talking about the poor, sick and unemployed as being less worthy than the rich and respectable people. Cameron's solution to this problem is to get rid of the poor by excluding them from any assistance from the state welfare system. I guess he hopes the poor people will just drop dead and disappear so he can live in a new, and better, society cleaned up from trash and riff-raff. A society that only includes well educated, healthy and rich people. I guess the next stage is to put the poor in a pauper house or poor house so that they don’t walk around freely in the society and makes it ugly by their appearances. Cameron, like Fredrik, wants to bring UK back to 19th century.

I get so tired when I think about the global political climate. How quick people forget the history. Democracy and the welfare state grew from a hard political struggle. How can you give it up so easy?

Racist police force

Is the police response the same all over London or is it more severe in Brixton? I am tempted to believe the latter, it seem as if the police presence in Brixton even has increased, compared to last year.
This week, I saw three massive police responses. The first was at Windrush Square, where three police cars and one van was dealing with something serious, I gather, or?
The second response was outside my neighbour’s house across the street, where three police officers lingered about. Where they involved in crime prevention or harassment?
The third occasion was on Coldharbour Lane. I was on my way home as a group of ten to fifteen young men, all between the ages of 13 and 15, passed me. It reminded me about myself at that age and how tuff I felt when I walked down the road with my friends. However, suddenly police came and started to chase the boys on foot!
How could they have possibly committed a crime in the two minutes it took for them to walk pass me and to the police chase started?
I like to point out that in all the above occasions the “perpetrators” where black men. The question is, were there any real crimes committed, or was it just the erratic actions of a racist police force?

I was in Ritzy Café and a very handsome man sat next to me, or so I thought until I spotted his nails. He had long nails like a girl! It completely turned me off him. Why do I find men with long nails disgusting? I couldn't even look at him.
I see myself as a feminist that believes in equality between the sexes so why does a man with long nails repulse me. Even the well manicured ones. Female long nails, on the other hand, are only nice. Does that make me a female chauvinist?

I had a really scary bus ride this week. The driver was shouting at the traffic, hit the steering wheel, and made lots of angry noises in his little driver’s cubicle. It was very unsettling being at the mercy of a mad bus driver! He had definitely chosen the wrong career for his mental wellbeing. Usually the bus drivers in London are really cool tempered and I am impressed with the way most bus drivers manage all the idiots that are out and about in the city.
I, myself, would definitely behave like the mad driver – that's why I am not a bus driver.

I went for a BBQ with more than 60 guests. It was nice weather, good food and a great turn out. However, I could not stand it! I found myself walking around with a grin on my face that felt more and more plastic as the day went on. People just mingled and talked about rubbish like the weather and the food. Every now and then you could hear a, “Oh helloooooo, how are youuuu!”
After two hours I had enough and went home stuffing my face in front of Iplayer. Thank God for BBC!

Terrorism

This week I went to a talk about wrongful incarcerations in the UK. This is when innocent people are locked up in prisons on terrorist charges without a shred of evidence. Some people are locked away for years and in some cases, even being tortured in the process!

I remember a time when torture was officially seen as something bad. However, today it has become more and more common that states, particular USA and UK, send terrorist suspects to foreign countries to be interrogated there. As I understand it, that basically means that the prisoner is sent abroad to be tortured so that the sending country (USA and UK) can deny any knowledge of torture. Interrogation has become the new word for torture. The whole process is called rendition.
This is made possible under the Terrorism Act 2000, which extend the detention period of the suspect. Basically, we can all be potential suspects and the state can detain us for as long as they please. A very convenient way to get rid of the opposition.

It is interesting to look at the word terrorist, which according to the Oxford dictionary, means “a person who uses terrorism in the pursuit of political aim”. When you look up the word terrorism, you can read “The unofficial or unauthorized use of violence and intimidation in the pursuit of political aims”.
The interesting point is that, what defines a terrorist or terrorism is a subjective issue rather than a factual issue. It can never be an objective issue since terror means extreme fear and humans are afraid of different things. In the Oxford dictionary, terror means “the use of extreme fear to intimidate people, especially for political reasons”. So if we look at terrorists, terrorism and terror in a class struggle situation then the ruling class will feel intimidated by any political resistance from the working class. If we use the words on feminism, then many men may feel threaten by feminists and feel that they will loose power. If my political view scares others, and fills them with terror, then it's not my fault that they feel fear! I have no control over other people’s feelings. Their terror is coming from inside their own head. Terrorism is therefore always a mind-ghost of the accuser. It is a product of the accuser’s fear of the unknown rather than any factual or real danger.

When the state has the power to define what political views or groups are to be classified as terrorists then it is very important to ask yourself, what is it that the state is afraid of? 
In addition, where does the so-called intelligence about a specific terrorist come from?
It's a known fact that CIA is flying people across the world to be interrogated in countries outside the western hemisphere. This interrogation happens in Somalia, Pakistan and other countries and we can all be pretty sure that the information received from the poor prisoner is a result of torture.

So what do you gain from torture?
The witch-hunt that spread through Europe during 15th century and the 18th century shows the devastating consequences of taking information from torture victims. In the witchcraft trials people were tortured by religious leaders, to find out who is a witch (witch can be replaced by the word terrorist in this case) or not. The interrogators put innocent people in a situation where they had to come up with a name in order to make the torture and pain to stop. The only way for the accused witch to be released was to produce a name of another witch. The torture, as a result, only led to that, more innocent people were tortured by the Church, for them to get yet another name of a witch. The witchcraft trials led to tens of thousands executions across Europe. The hunt for terrorists to day has a scary resemblance with the witch-hunts.

Many of the poor beggars detained at Guantanamo Bay are probably just innocent people that have been named under CIA interrogations in some God forsaken place in the Middle East. They have been there for years now and still no trials. Where are the proofs of the crimes they are supposed to have done?

I think it is time to put the threat of terrorism in perspective. For example, compare the death toll caused by terrorism in the UK, or USA, during 2010 (which is zero) with deaths in cancer, car accidents, youth stabbings and gun crimes, alcohol related deaths, women killed by their partners or ex partners, child poverty and the list can go on forever. Surely, we need to put more money into preventing these issues rather than spending money decreasing the democracy, the democratic freedom rights and the human rights with silly legislation.

The question is who is gaining from making us scared of terrorists? I leave you to answer that for yourself…

Bad luck

Can someone please tell me, why do you sometimes wake up with the imprints of your pillow in your face but not always? It only seems to happen when I am sleeping deep. The alarm goes off and I feel like I have been pulled back from another time zone, it's only then that I have pillow marks in my face, never when I wake up from rosy dreams. Why is that?
Anyway, that is what happened to me on Monday morning, I woke up with the pillow imprinted on my face. That rather set the tone for the rest of the week. Basically, everything I tried to achieve this week went to pots.
For example, my new washing machine was delivered on Monday and I installed it with the help of the landlord’s maintenance guy. I was over the moon to, at last, have the luxury of owning a washing machine. I did a test run that resulted in a washing machine half full of water; the blooming thing didn't work properly. I called the shop and they will send someone to fix it next week! Now the machine is standing in my kitchen with a single red light on, like an evil eye, reminding me that I need to practice to be patient!

I had a car boot sale outside my house, in the front garden. I thought it would be a great way to get rid of some old junk and get a tan in the same time, in other words to kill two birds with one stone. However, I only sold for £5!
While I was standing there, enjoying the sun, suddenly police cars appeared from everywhere and blocked the street. Apparently, they did a raid at the house across the street, which is some sort halfway house for young men that are being rehabilitated back to society after jail or rehab, not sure which. After the raid, two police officers turned their attention to me and walked up to my little stand. I thought they were going to arrest me for selling without a licence or something. In my head, I saw myself being transported away in the police van. My imagination takes the better of me sometimes! They just had a look at the things I sold and said that my little boot sale was a great idea and good for the community spirit.

On Saturday, I went to Southwark Park to celebrate the Swedish Midsummer with about hundred other Swedes. Most people in the park must have wondered what the heck was going on when the peace in the park suddenly was disturbed by a bunch of women dressed in blue and yellow dresses and flowers in the hair carrying a pole decorated with flowers, accompanied by musicians playing violins. The women put the pole in the ground and people started to dance around whilst singing songs in Swedish. I was moved to tears and felt positively homesick. Deep inside of me there is a Swedish Viking heart pounding proudly over the Swedish culture. However, I was more focused on the hot dogs and the strawberry cake than the dancing. I always say that you need to get your priorities right!

Support stockings

Finally, I got a prescription for my support stockings and I rushed to the pharmacy to collect them. Silly enough, I was totally unprepared for the measuring that was required.
My pharmacist is a young, good locking Asian chap and as he showed me in to a small private room, it dawned on me that I would have to get undressed in front of him. The fact that he was so obviously embarrassed, made me feel even more awkward.
I was dressed in tights and a very tight skirt and I struggled to get the skirt up and still keep my dignity. He had to measure my thigh right up to my groin and at that point, I felt I was getting far too close to my pharmacist for my liking! It also made me feel very fat, old, ugly and unshaven.

After 72 hours, I picked up the stockings and the next day I tried the horrid things on. What I talk about here are beige support stockings that are going all the way up to the groin and looks like something Miss Marple would wear. The little suckers where so tight that I almost got a haemorrhage pulling them up. I even had to put the fan on to stop me from sweating too much. When I was done, all the fat from my ankle up to my groin was stored somewhere above my bum and around the groin I was left with flapping bits of the stockings that I had nowhere to put so they just hanged there. The stockings worked as a push-up bra for my bum, it never been so perky!
I managed to walk down to Ritzy café in Brixton, with my perky ass, to meet a friend for a coffee but half way through I had to go to the loo and take the damn thing off. How the hell am I supposed to wear these things every day?
The whole experience made me feel very old indeed. That combined with losing a lot of weight, which has resulted in excess empty skin, has left me completely body conscious. So when I went to the Lido I couldn’t enjoy it because all I could think about was my varicose veins, bingo arms and empty sagging bags on the inside of my tights. The fact that my tankini is too big, did not improve the feeling. Neither did the four gorgeous young girls on the blanket next to mine. I feel like I am way past the best before date. I really struggled to feel grateful that at last there was a warm enough summer day to be spent at the poolside.

I have resolved to the fact that I should stay away from clubbing for a while just to get that thrown out the window when I saw The Harder They Come at the Wimbledon Theatre with the girls. We all sang along to Voice FM in the car on the way home and I decided that I definitely will go out dancing next weekend.