We live on one of those estates. The ones that get looked down on and people who never visit them have so much to say about none of it positive.
Our house is not the biggest in the world and some might think we could do with more space. For us, this feels like a palace after the last place.
I have a big family with seven children, five of them still with me and their Dad. We have 2 bedrooms. This is our home filled with strong characters, love and laughter.
This does not prevent people spitting at my children in the street or judging us because my husband is not English. Sometimes my husband cannot find work and whilst the children are at school or work, I do 3 jobs generally cleaning in houses for folks with money.
Can you see my daughter hanging out of the bathroom window smoking her fag? She’ll be heading out to dance soon with her mate Irene. Her mam and dad run the chippie and were not that thrilled when our lass took up with theirs.
Her boyfriend will walk her back. I can’t see him sticking with her to be honest. He’s a different religion and a police officer to boot. Her Dad will be watching out for her. The lad will have a lot of work to do if he wants my fella to think he is right for his favourite daughter.
No, he’s from the other side of town. It’s not a match.
Who’s that staring at the house?
A woman who seems oddly familiar and yet I can’t think that we have ever met.
There’s a man with her though and I think I do know him for certain but can’t think how exactly.
I go out to ask who they are and as I look back at the house, it is changed. The front door and the windows are completely different.
I don’t know what is happening.
The woman seems to have a lot to say for herself. She seems to be nattered that outsiders don’t give people where we live a chance. Something about individuals and the stories they have to tell. I don’t understand it all. She’s not from round here or is she?