Black & Confused in the UK 53/60

I feel it prudent to get across the radical changes in my lifetime to this young generation who takes so-much for granted, unaware of the hardships suffered by their forefathers in the earlier years. They now have life relatively easy in fact they have become abusive to the very foundation built for them. An enduring synopsis of my brother and I growing up in north Londons predominant white environment from a Blackmans perspective with the trials & tribulations endured. Approaching my 60th year having lived here for a staggering 53 years I recall moments edged in stone as a matter of personal history. . Seduction: . Older females are single minded predators who know exactly what they desire and attack there victims without prejudice, likened to a black widow spider once their objectives have been achieved the rest is academic. In my young days the attraction to older woman was not a question of getting your fingers burnt, but more over like an adrenalin rush that required satisfying my hungry appetite. A challenge is something I have always craved for but biting off more than you can chew is enlightening, every young man needs to have a modicum of experience to reflect on. . Violent encounters: . The room dimly lit when all of sudden the door burst opened and several men rushed in with knifes held aloft, in a few moments the light bulb was smashed. Screams engulfed the room as panic ensued all around innocent people being cut in the onslaught; I wedged my body in a corner grabbing the nearest person holding them tightly in front of me in the dark as a shield. . Addictions: . There are many forms of addiction and it is relatively easy to fall into this trap without realising, whilst caught up you are well aware but unable to refrain. Drinking is a glorious indulgence as I have been led to appreciate, and according to my present wife I am not short from being an alcoholic. Counting the incidents when I have overstepped the mark over many years, this could be deemed a possibility from her point of view. . Dubious times: . Literally half way down the garden with him he uttered these piecing words in my ear Giff this is not my f- -king house, I grabbed him in shear panic and hustled back to my car accelerating around the corner to the next block. The thought of the police turning up at the moment to find a black man & an Irish man both standing in someones garden put the living fear of god in me.