Drinking too much Chai gets you a little high.

Okay, long post. Read the third paragraph/section.

As a child I used to take the bus home from primary school; I'd have to cross Holland Avenue each sweltering afternoon to the same ticking noise that would mechanically (now electronically) count down the seconds for the traffic light timer. Tick. Tick. Tick. As the green man signal light began to flash the ticks would begin to speed up, before blurring into a whir and a final trrrrrrrrrtick as the red man took his place on the signal light. I used to think/pretend/deceive myself (for what reason I still don't know) that the strange ticking metallic box next to the traffic light was a bomb - a great incendiary device that would blow if I didn't cross the road before the final whirring signalled the appearance of Mr Red. So I'd scamper across the road with my backpack (which later became a roller-wheel-bag after the odd briefcase/satchel phase before finally returning to the sensible school backpack), fearful lest I should incur the wrath of the ticking timebomb across the road.

That old, irrational childhood fear seems to have been replaced by the current sense of blase defiance/incomprehensible internal paranoia that rumbles through my mind whenever a new act of terrorism is perpetrated against humanity. Strange, that. Old habits die hard.

It was after a good dinner that I sat down to coffee with a few medic chums and, despite the jovial banter I now feel a little uncomfortable with what I observed about myself...and how I seem to fit in with the world around. Well, a little introspection never did anybody much harm...I guess. We're meant to live in a 'meritocratic' 'classless' 'tolerant' society that pays no heed to divisions of race, creed or language; bollocks to that. I'm proud (yeah, pride is such a pain) to say that I'd be the last cynic to give in when everything falls to pieces; I wouldn't spare a second thought about sending in the water cannons and riot police. It's such a harsh and bitter 'every hamster for himself' world out there...and yet - we seem to tread such a fine line between the politically correct (repressed?!) version of rose-tinted bunnyland and the fiery chasm that we know really exists. We (and by we I mean I) put on the blinkers and plant our feet across the gap, pretending and shielding ourselves with the argument that our education and 'englightenment' (I hate hate hate that word) has taught us the fundamental principles of fairness and equality. So we use that as a pathetic excuse to hide behind our rood screens of privilege while we prop up - knowingly and unknowingly - the system that we loathe as it crushes those beneath, supports those above and keeps us safe and dry in the middle as we build our own ladders to the penthouse upstairs.
Verily I say unto thee that it's a pitiful tragedy, because this shameful duality is just a load of tosh. I said earlier that I'd be the last to burn the citadel that shelters me and gives me the platform for this self-righteous and not very coherent ranting proclamation. It's an awful shame because deep down we have that something buried inside that says this is all a big rotten lie and it isn't that we choose not to listen to this still and silent voice, but rather, we put the earplugs in and turn the iPods on full blast. So we bitch and moan about the haves and have-nots but at the end of the day I think it's just an excuse to keep the blinkers on, because we'd much rather not see the misery which we know exists around us when it's so much easier to order another cup of Chai.