Do I Really Exist?

I have come over all existentialist today after a twenty-four hours where life has become somewhat confused and the hard work has truely set in.

This weekend I ended up feeling a bit down with the sense that everyone had friends/partners bar me. Why is my life so dull, I asked myself self-pittyingly? Then I spoke to Kathryn and Zoe after which I felt much happier. Life may not be exactly how you planned it but in the end it's not half bad. I dreamt that by the end of my undergraduate degree I would be on the fast-track to be the BBC's Man in Paris and ready to settle down with 'the one.' So that may not have happened but I am starting to have a brilliant time here in Sheffield and am slowly building up friends and news contacts.

That said, I am still struggling with the power companies to find out if I actually can pay for the fuel that I am using. Having convinced npower that the flat exists and that I would like both fuel sources with them (I get a £50 reduction), I got a 'phone call telling me that they would have to transfer the gas to them from another company. OK, I say. It would be a politeness they went on to tell the current supplier. So, off this little bunny goes and telephones transco who have no idea who supplied me before. It'll take 10 days to find out.

So, following the confusion over the telephone, the post code and now the gas supplier, it does leave you wondering how this country survives. People and addresses seem to quite literally disappear. There was an estimate that there were hundreds of immigrants who could not be traced in this country and this does not altogether surprise me. It seems quite possible that you do not need much to be able to get power and a life for free.

In a similar sense, I had a very interesting evening yesterday. I went to a rather dreadful Christian Union meeting - the sort which tries to make you feel guilty ALL the time. I have many sins but, I hope, I have some good points too. He seemed to be implying from 1 John that our only defining feature is our sin. Which I found depressing and theologically unsound.

Thus, when Tim texted me suggested a chat after his rubbish day, I willingly agreed. we talked to an Indian lady following a quick curry about British Identity. She seemed to be arguing that there is a risk that Britain could lose her identity if the government did not insist on some sort of restrictions so as to protect our identity. Her argument was that people genuinely have to make an effort to integrate when arriving in the UK. It was a very pleasant evening to say the least.

Therefore, in the last twenty-four hours my existance as a resident of Walkley House, my existence as a 'good' person and my national identity have all been challenged. In the end, I suppose, none of this matters; it is just a bit destabilising but that is the very nature of the world we live in.

I remain, in some form or other,
CJGx