Am I who I say I am? Or am I a spy from a mysterious cartel living in the middle of Hillmorton in a house strategically purchased by a river so that if things turn ugly I can make a quick getaway in the canoe? In the real world that would only happen after I’d found the key for the boatshed and moved the lawnmower and the bike out of the way. I mean, come on. Do I look like I have a personal assistant and someone to buy my clothes?
All this angst is because we’ve just sold our last rental property and I’m becoming irritated at having to prove to banks and lawyers that I have an identity and it’s the same one I had the first time we did business. It’s annoying to the point where I’m thinking of requesting their annual practising certificates and a certified copy of the lease on their BMW before I decide whether to pay the bill.
Oh God, I’m sounding like Serena – which now I’ve brought it up, I may as well go on record as saying I think her “outburst” has absolutely nothing to do with gender or race and everything to do with an athlete throwing a tanty because she didn’t like the ruling. With the benefit of time and listening to every “influencer” on the planet you can spin it whichever way you like, but to me she still behaved abominably to another human – end of story. If she’d apologised I’d have given her some credit because we all behave poorly once in a while but making it into a tantrum for the sake of every woman who ever picked up a tennis racquet shows a lack of empathy and insight into what she was doing and those who are singing her praises sound to me very much like the same people who thought Trump knew a thing or two about leadership.
I realize now I’ve written this that I should smile and produce the passport when I’m asked. The people who need me to prove who I am are generally doing something I asked them to do and can’t help it if the World Bank thinks anyone with a dollar is a fraudster. It does take a while for an old tart to calm down. Serena’s a lot younger so lets hope she’s feeling stupid and the hole she’s made isn’t too big for her to climb out of. We could play her a bit of Aretha …
R- E – S – P – E – C -T (anyone see the movie?)
That might get her in the mood.