Front Doors

I have a new old one, and someone might make my old old one their new one, although I can’t see it myself. Over the road have a new one too, they think theirs was the first new one, because my new old one spent a while in the dining room considering life, the universe and everything.

When ours was “hung” on it’s new hinges, Over the Road wryly remarked:

What’s this – Door Wars?

All of which meant, when I was watching one the last days of Gordon Brown in Rochdale all I could think was that Mrs Duffy “the bigoted woman” had the worst kind of narrow front door. The skinny type of UPVC door that makes me claustrophobic just to look at it, never mind try and enter it.

Appparently Mrs Duffy has engaged a PR firm, but The Sun gave up interviewing her because there wasn’t much more to add. She lives in Rochdale, has voted Labour all her life, is concerned about all the Eastern Europeans coming over here, but is definitely no bigot.

I told someone they were being racist this week in the supermarket, they had made the usual disclaimer before making a racist statement. The ubiquitous disclaimer goes along the lines of:

I’m not a racist but…

Ok sure, that’s what I think when I hear this crap. Then I think about these people: actually I don’t know what’s in your heart and neither do I care because, however odious I find it, you are entitled to your own opinion but, in my experience, stuff that sounds racist usually is.

What I think those people mean when they say that thing is that they tend towards the indolent type of racism but they wouldn’t actually bother to do much about it, apart from bitch and moan in the supermarket to their friends. But if that Nick Griffin and his ugly lot smarmed round your street what then?
My worry is that you might flap a non-critical, non-racist ear in their direction.

Brown has said he is mortified, he also said Mrs Duffy’s question about immigration annoyed him. It would have annoyed me too.

I would have asked her:

What about all the Eastern Europeans Mrs Duffy, what about them?

A power player in Door Wars

But then I’m not trying to get my trotters back into this front door a week on Friday.

Posted on April 28, 2010, in News, Politics and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 9 Comments.

  1. how do they get number 10’s frontage so glossy?

    that kind of fickle racism really annoys me too:
    my cousin made a joke about the recent volcanic ash/air stops keeping immigration down:
    but as I pointed out to her ~ she is an immigrant, living in NZ!
    like so many Brits who live in Spain/Turkey/France:
    the world is home to everyone in my view:

  2. Well said Chocolate Girl \o/

    The front pages are a depressing sight this morning.

    As for the mirror-like gloss job, I don’t know. It’s certainly a cut above the regular tin of gloss like what ours is done in. (I asked for matt and was overruled by the paintbrush wielding one.)

    Perhaps the blog’s retained domestic art consultant can answer that one…

  3. Stephen Foster

    I think they must polish* it.

    A matt front door would attract dirt like the white cliffs of Dover attracts illegals. What sort of insane idea is that?!

    * That’s polish, with a duster, not work done on the cheap by the hands of personages from eastern europe where they’re all flooding from.

  4. I live in hope of a Georgian frontage one day.

    Shiny or matt.

  5. A double fronted Georgian is also something I aspire to. But I wouldn’t have those dodgy nets like no 10. No, proper window case shutters would be in mine.

  6. Didn’t you have those in Mount Pleasant?

  7. Shutters.

    I don’t like nets but:

    Some are born with nets, some achieve nets and some have nets thrust upon them…

    I’m in the latter camp. Without them it feels like the street is in the bedroom.

  8. We definitely did not have shutters at 73 Mount Pleasant. But I think Oak Grove House did.

    I keep my middle blinds shut in the bedroom for the privacy reason – then H opens them so we have silent blind wars.

  9. That is a feature of cohabitation. We have many silent wars. They started off well enough with the moving about of some hideous Bruxelles replica statuette. I would hide it on the balcony, M would pop it on the fridge.

    Now it is kitchen blind, bedroom curtains, bedroom window.

    Oh and when I go away stuff gets moved, thrown away and hidden.

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