I think that the next person today who makes an attempt to approach me with intimidation or annoyance, I'm just gonna get into a fit of rage. No, skip that, I've already reached that point where I'm practically stewing. Failing that, I might just use that pent up anger and throw it all upon myself in a veritable

It all started at around 5.45pm when a group of boys no older than 16 threw sweets at passers by outside a convenience store. At first I thought there were only a couple of them, and as I wasn't prepared to let something so petty pass by without letting them know how I felt, they decide to chase me down across the street to a bus stop. It was there and then that I found out the magnitude of over-reacting to mere sweet chucking. I must admit, I was a little unnerved by the experience, as to my surprise, I discovered there were SIX of them. The thought did cross my mind that I should start bricking it and expect the worse to happen, and in truth it very nearly did.

Ironically, the perpetrator was the one that kept the peace over the others but they asked whether or not I was in a gang, to which I replied 'No'. Come on, really. Me? In a gang? There's more chance of me being X Factor champ pal. For a split second I might have thought, 'wrong answer.' For no back-up and no reputation on the 'mean streets' of Acton meant a battering, but no, they said everything was cool and walked off. Just goes to show how a situation at any given point can tip for or against you.

I explained this to a mate earlier and he went on about how he'd had previous experiences of far worse scenarios at home and abroad. But now that a few hours have passed and my thoughts and mood are equally calm and collected, it's given me an extra incentive to build myself up physically and mentally. London is as safe as everyone in the media says it is. Yup, not a great deal. Whether fueled by alcohol, disillusionment or boredom, I'm not out to find reasons. What I will say though, is that in Britain, you don't necessarily have to appear to be looking for trouble, sometimes it's thrusted, or in this case, thrown at you. In America for instance, mind your business, walk on, no trouble.

Every time I go out, EVER, I always look over my shoulder. Always. My paranoia sets in and trusts no-one, questions everything and believes nothing its told. That's just the way it is.

I think I'll spend the next few hours listening to Morrissey's odes of loneliness, catered so well for lonesome misfits like me. Maybe even some Joy Division. Nah. Not that extreme.