While narrating the audio version of my new book, The Good, the Black and the Boujee, came a revelatory reminder of why many black Britons see middle class status as a “white people ting”. After a recording session, I headed upstairs to see if I could find any friendly faces from my publisher before heading out into the sweltering heatwave for my cycle home. To my disappointment, I found a near-empty office floor, and left minutes later. Donning my helmet, I joined the middle class commuters who regularly left the office in cycling gear.
As I approached the exit, something peculiar happened: I was met with a friendly expression of relief from the reception staff. The building had received a concerned report about a potential intruder on the top floor, they told me. The intruder was believed to be a rogue courier who had somehow passed the loading bay and made it into the editorial offices. It took me a moment to realise – the intruding courier was … me.
