The anti-Royalist police

 No, the anti-royalist police didn't come and arrest me. If hey had, I'd probably still be in jail.

The Brits gave the queen a good sendoff. Just wait until the taxpayers get the bill..

What I find interesting is that the British are obsessed with the royal family-and everyone who is famous (or would like to be). Royal family first-then the weather (ever meet a Brit who can't help but discuss the weather? Me. neither). Then drinking (as in, alcohol. Beer. Spirits. Anything that they can stuff down.). To them, getting pissed is grand. Then being as obnoxious, rude, stupid, horrible to everyone else (especially dogs and cats, who can't protect themselves). 

At the very bottom of the list of obsessions is: moaning. They whinge about everything. It's too hot (it's summer, you moron). It's too cold (autumn. Ditto.) 

In all fairness, I do my share of whingeing-but to you, since you know how much I love to put them down, wind them up, and generally make fun of them. That isn't an obsession. It's a hobby.

And nearly two weeks ago, the lunatic neighbor who has been threatening to kill me for more than three years nearly succeeded. Nothing to do with making fun of him, because I stay as far away from him as I can. A word of advice: stay away from mentally deranged people-even if you have to cross the street to do so.

Well... I've learned to keep my opinions to myself; I thought that if I avoided Terry Baster at all costs, I'd be okay. And I was wrong; I've got the black eye, bruised head, bruises everywhere, and a nasty concussion to prove it. Still got the black eye and all the bruises after ten days. CT scan at the hospital shows no evidence of a subdural hematoma, but I'm told that I have a bad concussion-and it could clear in a few more weeks, or could take up to three months. 

The embarrassing fact is that the police won't do anything about it because there are no witnesses. Even worse, the landlord (London Borough of Haringey, rated one of the worst in London-no surprise there!) refuses to take action. No witnesses, no evidence. Apparently my smashed face doesn't count as evidence! You couldn't make this up...

In case you're wondering how and why this happened: Baster "liked me" three and a half years ago. I wasn't impressed (if you looked at him you'd know why), but I was polite. I was only polite. Early on, I had to tell him that I was in a relationship and didn't go out with anyone else. Then he started to ask why the man didn't come around to the flat. I said that he won't come around because everyone is so nosy. And I had to tell him (politely) to back off, that I wasn't interested.

From then on, he stalked me and made my life hell. No matter how many times I reported him-Haringey turned a blind eye. They protect their mentally deranged tenants, I was told last week. 

So that brings us to the present. Unfortunately, if I carry so much as a nail file, I could be arrested if I wave it in self-defense. It's considered a weapon. Personally, I'd rather use it and still be alive-even if I'm arrested for assault. With a nail file. 

You couldn't make this up, could you? 

I'm going to go back, look everywhere before (and after) I go into my building, and make myself a good, strong coffee. And double-lock the door.