14/06/18

I'm currently visiting my mum and stepdad. They live out in the country, and it's refreshing to be out of the city for a change. I can hear the tweets of birds and occasionally the hooves of horses outside. I always overeat when I'm over here: yesterday we went out for dinner at the pub with my stepdad's parents, who are lovely people, and I had a big bowl of pasta and when we went back home and had another big bowl of strawberries with ice cream. I think I should take up running again, or else I'm just going to put on weight.

Yesterday my mother and I went to the carwash. It's one of those where the employees wash the cars by hand and as they walked around spraying the cars with jets of water from cannisters, my mother and I had a chat. My mother is always well-informed when it comes to current affairs and this is what our conversation consisted of. We talked about the effects of Brexit on migrants such as ourselves. She said the fact that I had been required to undertake a Habitual Residency Test (a test to prove that I have been habitually resident in the UK for the past eleven years) shows that the current regime, with Brexit on the agenda, is really doing their damndest to crack down on migrants claiming benefits. She added that perhaps this isn't such a bad thing, as they have to look after their own. I thought to myself, silently, that of course this rather complicates life a bit for people such as myself, having to live on food vouchers while the DWP figure out whether I'm entitled to benefits. After all, it is the state that declared me unfit for work due to my mental health issues, so if I can't claim benefits, that leaves me in the lurch. She said that she had friends who voted for Brexit because they want the migrants out. When she pointed out to them that we are, in fact, a family of migrants, they would all say "yes, but we don't mean you". However, she pointed out that if negotiations between the UK and EU turn sour, they could deport people who aren't working at will. This is why it's important to have a British passport. I wonder how I'm going to get one though, what with them costing about £1000.

My parents and sister would be safe from being deported, they all work. I love my family, they have always been there for me. The prospect of seeing this family separated by deportation is quite upsetting. I really hope that this won't be the case and that the UK manage to secure a sensible deal for EU migrants. I have worked in the UK before and it is tough out there. As a minimum wage earner, I lived life on the edge, never really knowing when I would be fired. I have gotten sacked from jobs a couple of times and being a migrant has meant that benfits took longer to process because of the habitual residency test. This constant worrying led me into a life of heavy drinking and occasional drug taking, which rather upset my family.

I was homeless for a year once but luckily I was able to enjoy the generous hospitality of my friend B. that year. I lived above his shop with several other outcasts: homeless heroin addicts and teenagers turned out of their homes. Despite the grim circumstances, the shop was a rather magical place with all sorts of interesting people wandering in and out. Anyone could wander in and sit by the fire at the back of the shop and be made to feel welcome.

Yes, I have always lived life on the edge. In my whole adult life I cannot remember a time when I haven't had to struggle. This is why I live with a devil-may-care attitude. I like to live it large while I can and fuck the consequences. There is no living sensibly when your livelihood is constantly under threat. Enjoyment becomes a passion. Culture becomes a matter of pride, and by culture I don't mean national culture, I mean being cultured, the way my parents imparted to me. I could wear my culture as a grievance, but I prefer to wear it honourably. And this is the thinking behind The Lavish Life.