The News of the World is in a bit of hot water after disclosures that its journalists hacked into phones belonging to celebrities (actors, actresses, football managers, models, pop stars and politicians, those kinds).
Are the press really so hard pushed for a story they have to resort to criminal voyeurism (is hearism a word?)
I guess some people live and breathe celebrity gossip and where there's demand there's supply.
Oh I dunno, I read Spirit and Destiny and the Big Issue. What do I know?
Friday, 10 July 2009
The weight of ideas
Ideas are all very well to have but to be executed with any success the heart and mind has to be in compliance or maaaaaaaaaaaaan, the thought of it is hard. That's where I am. I'm trying to chill out, take rescue remedy, anything to quell the emotions that crash and bang and swirl within me.
My heart has long desired a two bedroom flat for my son and myself. A garden would be nice, not having to haul the bike up and down, nicer. Has long desired to be out of this situation, off the waiting list. My heart has long desired to go home, the bricks and mortar kind.
My head has told me to write letters, which I've done, talk to people who might help, which I've done, talk to lawyers, which I've done, all with no success. Now my heart is telling me to bid for a property and well, I don't know where the law stands. I don't know what kind of trouble I might get into, I don't know, in truth, what might happen if I go through with it. I don't know how it will affect my son.
I'm no stranger to ideas. In my twenties my heart was set on going to Chile but suddenly Japan popped into my head. Japan? I didn't want to go to Japan! What did I want to go to Japan for? But the thought, it wouldn't let go. I fought the thought, flipped a coin. Best of three.
Before I flew out I felt much like I'm feeling now.
Same with the idea to return home overland. On my own. Through Asia. On my own. Through China. On my own. Russia, Eastern Europe. On my own. Here my head told me to take a plane to London but my heart wanted to walk, take buses, boats and trains but I was scared. I was so scared. I didn't eat the whole week before I flew to Bali. I couldn't. I was crapping it.
This is different though. Back then, nobody cared what I did.
This time, I know that's what happening in the borough where I live is wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. I care what I do because it could have positive repurcussions on the borough. I care what I do because it impacts my son. Whether I succeed or fail it impacts my son. My Son my Sun my Son.
What's the alternative? To remain living with rent I cannot afford with the threat of eviction hanging over my boy? This journey has to stop, it's time for this journey to stop. I so desire this journey to stop. This is a way of stopping it.
My heart has long desired a two bedroom flat for my son and myself. A garden would be nice, not having to haul the bike up and down, nicer. Has long desired to be out of this situation, off the waiting list. My heart has long desired to go home, the bricks and mortar kind.
My head has told me to write letters, which I've done, talk to people who might help, which I've done, talk to lawyers, which I've done, all with no success. Now my heart is telling me to bid for a property and well, I don't know where the law stands. I don't know what kind of trouble I might get into, I don't know, in truth, what might happen if I go through with it. I don't know how it will affect my son.
I'm no stranger to ideas. In my twenties my heart was set on going to Chile but suddenly Japan popped into my head. Japan? I didn't want to go to Japan! What did I want to go to Japan for? But the thought, it wouldn't let go. I fought the thought, flipped a coin. Best of three.
Before I flew out I felt much like I'm feeling now.
Same with the idea to return home overland. On my own. Through Asia. On my own. Through China. On my own. Russia, Eastern Europe. On my own. Here my head told me to take a plane to London but my heart wanted to walk, take buses, boats and trains but I was scared. I was so scared. I didn't eat the whole week before I flew to Bali. I couldn't. I was crapping it.
This is different though. Back then, nobody cared what I did.
This time, I know that's what happening in the borough where I live is wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. I care what I do because it could have positive repurcussions on the borough. I care what I do because it impacts my son. Whether I succeed or fail it impacts my son. My Son my Sun my Son.
What's the alternative? To remain living with rent I cannot afford with the threat of eviction hanging over my boy? This journey has to stop, it's time for this journey to stop. I so desire this journey to stop. This is a way of stopping it.
Thursday, 9 July 2009
The point system
Points are the currency with which we bid for a flat. As a human being you are given points if you have a medical problem, addiction, a victim of violence or harrassment or have refugee status and if you have none of these problems, a human being with a child is given the same priority. When I didn't have a child, I didn't apply for housing. Council flats in my mind were for those who needed one. I didn't need one then, I do now.
According to policy, those with the highest points are shortlisted to view a property and he or she with the highest points, gets it. In theory.
In practice I am not alone in seeing someone get a flat with less points than me. I met Mohammed when I was researching hostel families for my masters. He said:
"A few weeks ago someone got a flat with 365 points, less than me, and I wasn't called to view. I ask downstairs "what is this?" and they say "people need it more than you do." (Laughs) Probably those people in temporary flat, I should get priority."
My last post I told you, 308 they got it for.
The council does what the council wants to do. It says its policies are "transparent". Yes, as transparent as a slab of iron.
According to policy, those with the highest points are shortlisted to view a property and he or she with the highest points, gets it. In theory.
In practice I am not alone in seeing someone get a flat with less points than me. I met Mohammed when I was researching hostel families for my masters. He said:
"A few weeks ago someone got a flat with 365 points, less than me, and I wasn't called to view. I ask downstairs "what is this?" and they say "people need it more than you do." (Laughs) Probably those people in temporary flat, I should get priority."
My last post I told you, 308 they got it for.
The council does what the council wants to do. It says its policies are "transparent". Yes, as transparent as a slab of iron.
I won't play the game
Nothing to bid on for me this week. There are four properties for hundreds and hundreds of people to choose from. I'm not bidding on any. Last property I bid on I was 156th out of 346 bidders. Don't know how many points they won with. In March I was 154th out of 403. Winning bidder had 308 points. I have 319. Go figure.
There's a maisonette in Regents Park, ground and first in a tower, £102.44 a week.
There's a maisonette in Swiss Cottage, 7th floor of a tower, £96.70 a week
There's a conversion on a street property, ooh! but sadly in Covent Garden/Holborn, at £188.57
The other is a conversion in Primrose Hill but it's Housing Association at £124
Location location location, I want to be near my son's school. The staff are exceptional and have always been so supportive when something's gone wrong in his life or mine. It's a brilliant community school anyway offering music and sport and art and ICT and all those things a child needs beyond English, Maths and Science. It also feeds very nicely into his secondary education. Why pull him out? Why be forced to pull him out?
I'd go housing association but I don't trust it anymore. In Posh Street where I lived before, all the empty properties were housing association and when I called and wrote and pleaded for one to move into as we were being evicted, I was asked "Do you have a job?" and I said "Yes, I'm a mother." They replied: "Not that kind of job" (That was a phone call obviously, I never got it in writing) I'm also Housing Association now, and it's no picnic I can tell you. No security either.
The rent is cheap you might say and yes, it's certainly cheaper than the private sector. £250 a week for the tiny one bed I live in now? A two bedroom is anything up from £300. However, council wise, I can't afford £188 on my own on top of everything else. Couples can at least split the rent. Still, if it's near my son's school, sod it, at least there's security.
The council says "bid for everything". That is how you play this game.
I've become the Fussy Mother I wrote about in 2005. I haven't sent my Book That Will Never Be Published to the publisher who said he'd publish it. Yet. When I do and if you want, you can read the chapter then.
There's a maisonette in Regents Park, ground and first in a tower, £102.44 a week.
There's a maisonette in Swiss Cottage, 7th floor of a tower, £96.70 a week
There's a conversion on a street property, ooh! but sadly in Covent Garden/Holborn, at £188.57
The other is a conversion in Primrose Hill but it's Housing Association at £124
Location location location, I want to be near my son's school. The staff are exceptional and have always been so supportive when something's gone wrong in his life or mine. It's a brilliant community school anyway offering music and sport and art and ICT and all those things a child needs beyond English, Maths and Science. It also feeds very nicely into his secondary education. Why pull him out? Why be forced to pull him out?
I'd go housing association but I don't trust it anymore. In Posh Street where I lived before, all the empty properties were housing association and when I called and wrote and pleaded for one to move into as we were being evicted, I was asked "Do you have a job?" and I said "Yes, I'm a mother." They replied: "Not that kind of job" (That was a phone call obviously, I never got it in writing) I'm also Housing Association now, and it's no picnic I can tell you. No security either.
The rent is cheap you might say and yes, it's certainly cheaper than the private sector. £250 a week for the tiny one bed I live in now? A two bedroom is anything up from £300. However, council wise, I can't afford £188 on my own on top of everything else. Couples can at least split the rent. Still, if it's near my son's school, sod it, at least there's security.
The council says "bid for everything". That is how you play this game.
I've become the Fussy Mother I wrote about in 2005. I haven't sent my Book That Will Never Be Published to the publisher who said he'd publish it. Yet. When I do and if you want, you can read the chapter then.
Keep struggling down those steps great granny
There are perks to being late for school as you discover what you're ordinarily to busy to see.
(This morning I'm at the front door when my son says "mummy, can I bring Spike and Cutie to school?" and I reply "yes and your book bag and your water." I stare out at my wonderful view and when I look back my son's in the bedroom taking off Cutie the rabbit's jumper. Spike is the badger. "I said book bag and water not dressing your toys. Quick!")
I call the lift deliberating if I should just walk down but it comes quickly. At least today the 94 year old doesn't have to struggle down. My son and I squeeze in with widow, her two son's and her mum. I shouldn't call her widow. I know two here. My point in calling them that is that some people seem to think stigmum's are all teenage girls (see an earlier post about Mr Ketteridge). She can be 2boys mum and the other 2boys and a girl mum, incase I mention them again. Anyway, I digress.
The conversation turns to the broken big lift and I tell them I spoke to the engineer yesterday who said it was Camden's responsibility and his company had been asking the council for five years to do something about it. 2boys mum knows all about it and tells me that of the 500 lifts in Camden that are coming up for renewal, only one has been replaced. The other 499 aren't getting a look in. So there's no cash in the pot for Papier Mache Towers. There's none in the pot for anywhere else either. Apparantly.
If there's money to clean a moat there's money to fix a lift. If there's money to give an MP a second home then there's money to fix a lift. Nearly £2 million was made from auctioning those flats on monday whilst I was there. They made more after I left. Where is that cash going?
She found the information on the minutes of a DMC meeting on Camden's website. I haven't the heart right now to go digging and investigating. To be honest, I rarely do have the heart as I find it so utterly depressing. I'm glad though that others, like 2boys mum and also Hannah, do make it their business to expose the flaws. 2boys mum said she regularly emails the local press, gmtv, all media bodies to have a scream. One of us will be successful. One of us has to be. We all have to be. Meanwhile the Camden New Journal's doing a great job on our behalf.
(This morning I'm at the front door when my son says "mummy, can I bring Spike and Cutie to school?" and I reply "yes and your book bag and your water." I stare out at my wonderful view and when I look back my son's in the bedroom taking off Cutie the rabbit's jumper. Spike is the badger. "I said book bag and water not dressing your toys. Quick!")
I call the lift deliberating if I should just walk down but it comes quickly. At least today the 94 year old doesn't have to struggle down. My son and I squeeze in with widow, her two son's and her mum. I shouldn't call her widow. I know two here. My point in calling them that is that some people seem to think stigmum's are all teenage girls (see an earlier post about Mr Ketteridge). She can be 2boys mum and the other 2boys and a girl mum, incase I mention them again. Anyway, I digress.
The conversation turns to the broken big lift and I tell them I spoke to the engineer yesterday who said it was Camden's responsibility and his company had been asking the council for five years to do something about it. 2boys mum knows all about it and tells me that of the 500 lifts in Camden that are coming up for renewal, only one has been replaced. The other 499 aren't getting a look in. So there's no cash in the pot for Papier Mache Towers. There's none in the pot for anywhere else either. Apparantly.
If there's money to clean a moat there's money to fix a lift. If there's money to give an MP a second home then there's money to fix a lift. Nearly £2 million was made from auctioning those flats on monday whilst I was there. They made more after I left. Where is that cash going?
She found the information on the minutes of a DMC meeting on Camden's website. I haven't the heart right now to go digging and investigating. To be honest, I rarely do have the heart as I find it so utterly depressing. I'm glad though that others, like 2boys mum and also Hannah, do make it their business to expose the flaws. 2boys mum said she regularly emails the local press, gmtv, all media bodies to have a scream. One of us will be successful. One of us has to be. We all have to be. Meanwhile the Camden New Journal's doing a great job on our behalf.
Wednesday, 8 July 2009
Police chief on illegal immigration
Ceci was very interested in this one.
When she first asked how police would safeguard illegal immigrants both Clout and I laughed. An illegal immigrant wouldn't go up to the police was what we were both thinking.
This had followed a discussion on ethnic minorities generally, that there was a deep mistrust from some groups, most of which he said was cultural. There are parents who want to discipline their kids how they want to, he said and police do go into parent groups and explain that the British way is different. (A report of our research is coming out in September and some of our team interviewed the Somali community. I myself don't know enough. But then that's what our research is about; building bridges, creating greater transparency between the community and the service providers of that community)
Ceci rephrased her question and focused on the abuse of illegal immigrant children. What solution did the police have for that?
Often you don't know what a difficult question a question can be. Very often the most simple questions can be the toughest to answer. Illegal immigration is a political hot potato, controversial and inflammatory.
He said the police had set up (needed to set up? bugger, sorry) a Third Party Plan. What is needed, he said, is for the volutary sector to step in. The protection of these children can only be implemented with the support of voluntary groups.
I am sure volutary groups will jump at the chance. Ceci could barely contain herself! For me, I felt the seeds of change being planted in the ground.
The research we're doing is in its early stages. Pilots have been done in Hull and have been successful. There is a real possibility for change. Where people's voices can be heard and policy can reflect their, our needs.
I wish it could happen overnight, well well before the next general election....
We could light up the world if we stayed side by side (ok, I've deconstructed a line from a Take That song, who cares, I'm suddenly feeling optimistic!)
When she first asked how police would safeguard illegal immigrants both Clout and I laughed. An illegal immigrant wouldn't go up to the police was what we were both thinking.
This had followed a discussion on ethnic minorities generally, that there was a deep mistrust from some groups, most of which he said was cultural. There are parents who want to discipline their kids how they want to, he said and police do go into parent groups and explain that the British way is different. (A report of our research is coming out in September and some of our team interviewed the Somali community. I myself don't know enough. But then that's what our research is about; building bridges, creating greater transparency between the community and the service providers of that community)
Ceci rephrased her question and focused on the abuse of illegal immigrant children. What solution did the police have for that?
Often you don't know what a difficult question a question can be. Very often the most simple questions can be the toughest to answer. Illegal immigration is a political hot potato, controversial and inflammatory.
He said the police had set up (needed to set up? bugger, sorry) a Third Party Plan. What is needed, he said, is for the volutary sector to step in. The protection of these children can only be implemented with the support of voluntary groups.
I am sure volutary groups will jump at the chance. Ceci could barely contain herself! For me, I felt the seeds of change being planted in the ground.
The research we're doing is in its early stages. Pilots have been done in Hull and have been successful. There is a real possibility for change. Where people's voices can be heard and policy can reflect their, our needs.
I wish it could happen overnight, well well before the next general election....
We could light up the world if we stayed side by side (ok, I've deconstructed a line from a Take That song, who cares, I'm suddenly feeling optimistic!)
Police chief on dispersal orders
I asked chief superindentent Clout what he thought of the borough's dispersal orders and whether he thought they were successful.
He told us "they're brutal but we they have to be used." Enforcing them was a last resort, he said, but also necessary in order to tackle gang crime. He then asked me what I thought. (He clouts with kindness this one)
I told him: "No, I don't think so."
He asked me why and I said: "Well, they all just come round to my place."
"How do you know?" he asked.
How do I know indeed? I keep myself to myself. I come home, close the door, cook, clean, read, write, play, listen to music, anything really. If see teenagers sitting on the wall I think, they are teenagers sitting on a wall. Once when I was locked out they offered to climb up the first balcony to let me and my son in and they were in the process of doing so when a resident arrived, was able to let me in and I could run up to a neighbour for my spares. By and large, I don't see anything. How do I know?
"Well, not so long ago they assaulted a security officer and they kicked out a glass panel from a top floor balcony and..."
"Right, OK, there may be instances where they move on elsewhere but there are dedicated safer neighbourhood teams in every area who are there to respond to any problems." I was abit thrown because his whole demeanour, the slackening of his body, the relief that seemed to wash over his face told me that he knew exactly where I lived. We've had riot police here and all sorts. There is a Safer Neighbourhood team here, I personally have no complaints. I let the matter drop.
Indeed, as the mother of a small boy, I have to trust what they do. Ages ago, a year or two ago, I read in the CNJ that teenagers were regularly assualted, beaten up, for fun and for mobile phones etc on Hampstead Heath. I want my son to go to secondary school around here, the article frightened me.
Clout told us there was a police officer in most secondary schools. That teams work closely with the school, with pupils. If they hear of a planned fight between rival schools, they will intercept that and use their stop and search powers.
I'm still unclear how they hear about these fights, I asked him how do they decide who to stop and search, do they stop them all? (My 12 year old nephew carried a knife for a while, to "defend"himself, until my brother rumbled him. I didn't say this to Clout).
They've taken lots of knives off kids he said. "We view it as protecting them, not harrassing them." He also said Camden Police are one of the best in the capital for tackling crime. He would say that of course but I've lived in Lambeth, I've heard a man being shot in the head with an air rifle right outside my flat. I chose to believe him. Well what choice do I have?
He told us "they're brutal but we they have to be used." Enforcing them was a last resort, he said, but also necessary in order to tackle gang crime. He then asked me what I thought. (He clouts with kindness this one)
I told him: "No, I don't think so."
He asked me why and I said: "Well, they all just come round to my place."
"How do you know?" he asked.
How do I know indeed? I keep myself to myself. I come home, close the door, cook, clean, read, write, play, listen to music, anything really. If see teenagers sitting on the wall I think, they are teenagers sitting on a wall. Once when I was locked out they offered to climb up the first balcony to let me and my son in and they were in the process of doing so when a resident arrived, was able to let me in and I could run up to a neighbour for my spares. By and large, I don't see anything. How do I know?
"Well, not so long ago they assaulted a security officer and they kicked out a glass panel from a top floor balcony and..."
"Right, OK, there may be instances where they move on elsewhere but there are dedicated safer neighbourhood teams in every area who are there to respond to any problems." I was abit thrown because his whole demeanour, the slackening of his body, the relief that seemed to wash over his face told me that he knew exactly where I lived. We've had riot police here and all sorts. There is a Safer Neighbourhood team here, I personally have no complaints. I let the matter drop.
Indeed, as the mother of a small boy, I have to trust what they do. Ages ago, a year or two ago, I read in the CNJ that teenagers were regularly assualted, beaten up, for fun and for mobile phones etc on Hampstead Heath. I want my son to go to secondary school around here, the article frightened me.
Clout told us there was a police officer in most secondary schools. That teams work closely with the school, with pupils. If they hear of a planned fight between rival schools, they will intercept that and use their stop and search powers.
I'm still unclear how they hear about these fights, I asked him how do they decide who to stop and search, do they stop them all? (My 12 year old nephew carried a knife for a while, to "defend"himself, until my brother rumbled him. I didn't say this to Clout).
They've taken lots of knives off kids he said. "We view it as protecting them, not harrassing them." He also said Camden Police are one of the best in the capital for tackling crime. He would say that of course but I've lived in Lambeth, I've heard a man being shot in the head with an air rifle right outside my flat. I chose to believe him. Well what choice do I have?
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