I’m protective of everything I love in my life. I know this. There really isn’t anything that I wouldn’t do to protect anyone who is precious to me. It’s not so much a quality, more of a flaw; over-protective? Yeah, just a little too much.
When Soph comes home and tells me about her day and things have been so bad for her with shockingly awful people shouting at her on the phone, I get angry. Not at Soph, I get angry in another direction entirely.
I don’t have anger management issues, I have issues with my lovely girl being adversely affected by any set of circumstances.
Sigh.
The last time things threatened Soph, well, I’m not particularly proud of what I did. Even though she nearly phoned MatthewWright about it last week, at least that’s what she told me. Sigh. The thing is I really do know how to handle myself and yes, my reflexes are probably twice as quick as those of someone half my age. Anyway, that was then, last year. This is now and ‘this’ didn’t involve six to eight loud, out of control chavs. This involved a rabid woman who plainly hadn’t taken her medication for several weeks on the other end of a telephone.
But for God’s sake people, where the hell does decent behaviour include shouting at people down the phone until the person on the other end can’t take any more of the ranting and bursts in to tears?
Or did I miss that day in charm school?
Sometimes people are complete and utter twunts. I am not proud to be a member of the same species as that person.
B.