Sunday and very depressing shortie.
I’m in Liverpool. The reasons I’m here need not concern you. I like the place, always have. It’s like Dunmow with a population of over 500,000. Lots of maddish people yelling at 11 in the morning. All hours, actually. Cops looking to keep people off the Covid 19 streets? Oh no.
It’s not an unattractive city. It’s OK, no Norwich or Bath, but it’s OK, it does its job, its industrial port shown proudly with a bit of swagger. And I like scallies. The accent can grate a bit, don’t leave your car unlocked, but it’s all right this place. A place to be proud of?
I’d be less proud of an aspect, and it’s an aspect of the UK in general that shames us all. The fourth/fifth richest country in the world, a major thriving city in that country, and I bought a sandwich this morning for a homeless, penniless person. Imagine that. Fourth richest country in the world, I had to buy somebody something to eat because he couldn’t afford it. I’m not rich, so a few quid makes a dent, I’ll run out of money eventually, but I can afford a sarnie. For somebody with nothing.
I’m ashamed of my country that such things can occur.