A Day
I’ve had one. A very odd set of experiences from the mess room anxiety over ‘Knife culture’, which is, if you read Tom Reynolds blog, not such a big problem as some tabloids are making it out to be. One of the guys was so worried about it that he almost refused to go out on patrol. The rest of us took the piss, called him an ‘old woman’ and went out anyway. Well he was being precious, and that’s something you can’t afford to be in this line of work.
If anything, people on the streets seemed to be extra nice today, although God alone knows why. Maybe uniformed figures not in riot gear or body armour are a reassuring sight. Don’t ask me, I just get out there and get on with the job in hand.
This morning was fairly sedate. Only got called names once. No attempted assaults and only one ‘Get a proper job’ jibe from some scruffy unemployable. What? Like you, you mean? Usually dies stillborn on your lips.
The afternoon was a different story. I was busy as anything and for some reason there were sirens going off all over the bloody place. Had a run in with a disabled driver on a bus stop (That’s another post for another day) got harangued by some cyclist (That’s right, a bloody bicycle rider) about the Council’s planning policy of all things. Pay and display faults blossomed all across my beat sending me scurrying from one end of town to the other. Just completely manic. I was glad to end my shift.
Came back home and did my usual check on the blog statistics to find that the Guardian had my blog as a featured piece in the Off Diary Society page. No chance of a freelancers fee there eh lads?
If anything, people on the streets seemed to be extra nice today, although God alone knows why. Maybe uniformed figures not in riot gear or body armour are a reassuring sight. Don’t ask me, I just get out there and get on with the job in hand.
This morning was fairly sedate. Only got called names once. No attempted assaults and only one ‘Get a proper job’ jibe from some scruffy unemployable. What? Like you, you mean? Usually dies stillborn on your lips.
The afternoon was a different story. I was busy as anything and for some reason there were sirens going off all over the bloody place. Had a run in with a disabled driver on a bus stop (That’s another post for another day) got harangued by some cyclist (That’s right, a bloody bicycle rider) about the Council’s planning policy of all things. Pay and display faults blossomed all across my beat sending me scurrying from one end of town to the other. Just completely manic. I was glad to end my shift.
Came back home and did my usual check on the blog statistics to find that the Guardian had my blog as a featured piece in the Off Diary Society page. No chance of a freelancers fee there eh lads?
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