It’s happening y’all. Just as I feared when I embarked on this not so exotic unadventure back to Suburbia.
Suburb values are starting to win me over. I think I’m being brainwashed by Waitrose, olive oil & balsamic vinegar and M&S Food. Don’t laugh. This is serious business.
The distinction between want and need grows ever hazier and harder to decipher. Don’t we all need an en suite, loft conversion, double driveway and two weeks lying on a beach somewhere with guaranteed sun? Surely that’s on the UN Convention of Human Rights. And if not I'm starting a petition - who's with me?
Life without a garden is unimaginable. I mean, a summer without The Washing vs. Rain Struggle is no summer at all (Is it gonna rain? Shall I put my washing out? It’s a bit cloudy but I’ll chance it...)
The Song of Suburbia wakes me up each morning and sings me to sleep with a Hymn to a Safe Life - Build a bigger barn, store more stuff, send your children to private school, go on nice holidays. For then you shall be safe. You shall be secure. Harm will not visit your doorstep.Build a bigger barn.
Not having a car or even being able to drive is quite a novelty - #world’smostboringpartytrick
And can you imagine – the council are doing such a shoddy job of maintaining the grass verges that if we actually want it to look decent we have to do it ourselves. One of my neighbours was so distressed that he even spent a Saturday afternoon, on one of the hottest days of the year so far, having to tackle the overgrown grass. What do we even pay council tax for?
The Kingdom of Comfort is alive and flourishing.
Not that the suburbs is without pain – lost family members, lost jobs, lost health, lost life - but its just less obvious when everyone builds higher fences and bigger hedges.
But never fear – I’m fighting back. Starting with re-reading the Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claibourne (Holla at me all you other Ordinary Radicals. Read it if you have no idea what I'm talking about). Though I have to remember that I’m not Shane. And that’s ok. We can’t all be Shane. Because who would be Beyonce? Or McBusted? Or me?