Resisting my journalistic urges, or keeping my nose out of places it does not belong

Part of me is relieved it is raining so hard. If it wasn’t I would have been feeling enormously frustrated about now: the urge to just pop to Woolwich would probably be quite unbearable, but given my chair is out of action I’m stuck home. Truth be told I’ve been feeling it all week – I just want to go look around, experience the atmosphere for myself. I don’t know what I expect to find down there, and yet I am very curious.

You see, people in these parts seem to be different. People have unusual attitudes in this part of London, anti-establishment attitude which won’t come across in the news bulletins. Thus I want to go out, wheel about a bit, and listen to what people on the street are saying. I daresay there will be things we are not being told on the beeb, things about the soldier, or the alleged perpetrators. I want to go into pubs, to hear what the men are saying. Gossip will be rampant, but I’m curious about the mentality locally. Is islamophobia increasing? Are people feeling scared or angry? There is probably a wealth of material out there for me to blog about — as a writer I’m just itching to go out there to find stuff to post on here.

But I suppose a broken chair means that urge must be resisted. It’s probably a good thing – I should, I know, keep my nose out of things that are not my concern. Yet, as when the media circus came to Crewe, having such an event so close brings out the journalist in me, and the part of me which wants a piece of the action. The best I can do right now is ask Monika to push me in my manual chair to the co-op and back, but even there I’ll warrant tongues will be wagging.

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