Welcome To Stockport

20 Jun
View from our house of another drama. The faces change; the cop cars remain the same

View from our house of another drama. The faces change; the cop cars remain the same

So here’s how my early evening went last night:

  • Make dinner
  • Eat dinner
  • Clean up after dinner
  • Rinse plates while daydreaming about Star Trek replicators and the ultimate recycling (dirty plates energized into pristine uniform on perfect and somewhat shapelier figure than I’ve ever owned)
  • Startled by noise outside, shoved inside by open window on glorious summer evening (so rare, it deserves a post of its own)
  • Look up from dirty plate reality
  • See two young men, separated by a bicycle (the crashing to the ground of which startled me into looking up)
  • Watch one young man brandish what looks like a baseball-bat-come-small-tree-trunk
  • Watch same young man swing at other young man with baseball-bat-come-small-tree-trunk
  • Watch third, older, man run up and throw bicycle at brandishing young man
  • Feel disappointed when brandishing man and bicycle-throwing man run out of sight
  • Feel ashamed at my instinctive – nay, feral – enjoyment of violence outside my own front door
  • Feel relieved that the car wasn’t damaged in the fracas
  • Watch second young man ride off on bicycle
  • Listen to shouts and yells out of sight as large group of youths run to join the fray
  • Watch youths suddenly scatter in all directions, hurling abuse at each other
  • Watch as three police cars with flashing lights appear too late to do anything

After discussion with a neighbour – and this is all hearsay so I can’t assert its veracity, though it has the ring of truth – it appears that the local drug dealers had a falling out, leading to one young man of fifteen taking a baseball-bat-come-small-tree-trunk to his own father’s head (the man who threw a bicycle at him); having, apparently, beaten up his own mother last week.  

‘Stay well out of it’ was the neighbour’s advice; which we’re inclined to take.

That all happened around six o’clock.  By seven-thirty, the Hub and I were sitting in a school hall, listening to what’s involved in sending our seventeen-year-old, drug-free, trouble-free, never-hit-either-of-his-parents, baseball-bat-come-small-tree-trunk-free son to university next year.

You can lead a youth to education, but you can’t make him think.  

The drugs see to that.


29 Responses to “Welcome To Stockport”

  1. http://vivinfrance.wordpress.com June 20, 2013 at 11:48 #

    Thanks for this. Did you read the comments? Love, ViV


    • The Laughing Housewife June 20, 2013 at 11:58 #

      ? Yours is the only comment.


      • viv blake June 20, 2013 at 14:28 #

        That is weird. The Thanks for this was an email to a friend who sent me a useful link. I don’t know how it appeared here – I’ll have to thank her again! I hadn’t even read your post at that time. Now that I have, I am so glad that I live in peaceful rural France. That fracas was a bit too close to (your) home.


  2. Al June 20, 2013 at 12:56 #

    As fascinating as this story is I am perplexed by one fact. If you don’t play baseball in England, how did he come by a baseball bat?


    • sanstorm June 20, 2013 at 14:11 #

      Oh we can buy them. We don’t play, generally. This is the kind of incident they are bought for. Seriously – we are fortunate to have strict gun control here. That’s why the thugs are reduced to using branches and sports equipment.


      • Al June 20, 2013 at 17:55 #

        So, if someone gets their skull split in two is that called a “double?”


        • sanstorm June 20, 2013 at 19:30 #

          if that would make the thug think twice 😉


    • The Laughing Housewife June 20, 2013 at 14:24 #

      They are rounders bats but you Americans are always influencing our language on the sly…


  3. mairedubhtx June 20, 2013 at 13:36 #

    My, what a lot of excitement in your neighborhood!


  4. slpmartin June 20, 2013 at 14:00 #

    It is indeed a strange world we live it…what a story.


  5. adinparadise June 20, 2013 at 14:26 #

    Wow! My evening wasn’t nearly as exciting. 🙂


  6. Grannymar June 20, 2013 at 14:27 #

    Now that is the excitement you can live without. Stay safe.


  7. laurieanichols June 20, 2013 at 14:45 #

    Despite the fact that the story is of a serious and scary nature, you still gave me a good giggle, especially in the comments section, you’re right, we Americans naturally impose our words on everyone else. There is no getting away from it, mea culpa on behalf of all Americans lol.


  8. SchmidleysScribbling June 20, 2013 at 17:41 #

    Before I was married to David I lived in a neighborhood like this. We had a drug dealer living in the building behind us and he was scary. Fortunately, my kids mostly avoided drugs unless you include alcohol and cigarettes. Far too much of that going on. Do you know the most sought after black market illegal drug in New York City? Its cigarettes. Dianne


  9. Janet Williams June 20, 2013 at 18:13 #

    On the day that we were leaving your lovely house last month after 5 days of stay, we enjoyed watching similar scenes from the same window in the morning: a few police cars, a few ambulances, a few shocked and tearful women in cigarettes, and I remembered the SCREAM from one of the flats.

    It seems that you get a case of this severity once a month. Is this the street where the Coronation Street gets their idea from?


  10. bluebee June 21, 2013 at 13:40 #

    You’ve done well with your boys in this crazy world. Drugs are a scourge – we have a huge problem here with ice (methamphetamine) – it makes its addicts extremely violent.


  11. Hattie June 21, 2013 at 15:23 #

    Frightening. You can knock someone’s head off with a baseball bat.


  12. benzeknees June 24, 2013 at 18:15 #

    Don’t you lead an exciting life?


I welcome your comments but be warned: I'm menopausal and as likely to snarl as smile. Wine or Maltesers are an acceptable bribe; or a compliment about my youthful looks and cheery disposition will do in a pinch.

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