Yeah yeah, it's not fair...

I keep hearing Jilted John, I don't know why...

My mother's car didn't just get egged this weekend, it got a brick through its window. She's gone to stay with my uncle because she doesn't dare leave the car out on the street here with no window, and we have nowhere to hide it, and it can't be fixed 'til Monday.

She talked about the violence on the street here last night - I was lucky, I went over to Nigel's place and missed all the 'excitement'. I'm very glad I did that, for myself, but not for Mum.

So tonight it's my turn, I'm in the flat alone, and for once there hasn't been any violence on the streets. I was treated to the violence of the bars instead, which isn't the same thing at all as it doesn't involve the physical stuff. For some reason as I got up to leave tonight I said to the one woman I most admire in Baldock that it was always a pleasure to see her. It is; she's pretty and she's funny, and she lifts the mood as soon as she walks through the door, for everyone present. Her response? "I wish I could say the same for you, Steph."

We've never even held a conversation.

The friend that accompanied her did hold a conversation with me, briefly, on the subject of child-rearing. She explained to me that Floyd and I had been cruel to the niece we raised. But then went on to describe the difficulties she's having with her 7-year-old son's manners, which to me says that she was never cruel enough. If you don't teach a child right from wrong before it reaches 7, how can that child ever know right from wrong? Obviously we weren't going to agree on that point, so I let it ride. Which led to her asking me, was I from 'that family in the High Street'? - the one where a baby was unwittingly murdered by its own mother some two years ago. Gee thanks.

The murderess in the case is from this town. Everyone here went to school with her. There's a huge amount of sympathy for her locally, and a general feeling that she was led astray by falling into bad company. Strangely, I've known the 'bad company' she was living with at that time for the last 20-odd years. When his father was dying - which took some years, as the old boy had a very slow cancer - I know that the 'bad company' was attentive and caring; he took food and beer to his father on a daily basis, he spent time with him, and he gave at least as much as he received, in the way of gossip, and company, and simple fun. But he wasn't 'from here'. And neither am I, thank God. Neither am I.

So why are we being attacked? Because I've come to the point now where I'm beginning to believe that everyone around is not being attacked, there's something personal in this; the rest of the cars in our street remain untouched.

There are a number of possibilities.

One is the recent conviction of an old (and elderly) friend of the family for paedophilia. Incidents 30 years old. No telling whether it carried into more recent years, and the guy's had a complete breakdown since his conviction, so they can't even send him to jail - just wreck his life. Of course we have to believe the conviction, and of course we're all duly appalled - but jesus, he's knocking 80. Why did it have to be now?

One is the fact that both my mother and I will attempt to stop things that we see are wrong. "Kick him again and I'll call the police," said my 65-year-old Mum to one teenager. "What the FUCK do you think you're playing at?" said me to another. They stop - but maybe they don't forget.

One is the fact that I just came back from Israel, and all England hates Israel, or so it seems.

And one is that I allegedly slept with the partner of the aforementioned unwitting murderess. (Except that I didn't, but hey, don't let the truth get in the way of the facts!)

- or it could be simply that we're not from here...