Minority Groups

I was delighted by the navy blue sky - Christmas lights twinkling overhead, as I stood on Regent Street in my wonderful new 'Missoni' coat, black leather gloves and 'Mulberry Emmy' dangling from my shoulder. 'I love London' I thought to myself. The red number 3 bus pulled up and on I climbed wafting Jo Malone 'Lime Basil and Mandarin' all the way up the stairs, to sit beside a stranger on the top floor. My mind started to wander, and there I perched smiling contentedly to myself, until we got as far as Brixton. The bus then filled up, and from behind me I heard a voice, 'rapping' loudly and aggressively.

'Me talk of opression, degradation, dictation, huuuuuuuumiliation, of coming from da spice Island - Granada, me a minority, ground down by years of incarciration', etc. You get the idea.

I genuinely sympathised. There I sat, feeling less like Audrey Hepburn, and more like Audrey Roberts as the long 'rap' continued. I felt ashamed to be white. I glanced carefully around the bus, I was the only white person on board. Oh dear.... I felt very threatened. His voice was full of hate and not another soul on the top deck dared to speak. Complete silence.....

The bus was suddenly at my stop, and I scrambled down the stairs, walked briskly to the cash dispenser and got in the queue behind another customer. I recognised the voice as soon as he answered his mobile phone, it was the opressed gentleman from the bus. He laughed, took his money and walked to an enormous double fronted house nearby, opened the front door and let himself in. In the background I could hear a child loudly playing the piano.

Thanks for that sweetheart, for frightening me out of my skin and terrifying me on the way home from work. Get over yourself. London is a melting pot, we are all different, all members of some minority group. I happen to fancy Gary Barlow.

You have your image of yourself to uphold, and I have mine.