Christmas. Or Not

You know how it is you watch tv ’til your eyes glaze and it seems every few seconds you think ‘why is there never anything worth watching on tv at Christmas’ because there isn’t there used to be old Hollywood B films about Jesus maybe some of those are still shown but I didn’t notice any this year. My favourite was one of those All Star films I can’t remember the name of the film but I do remember the unmistakable voice of John Wayne saying “This is truly the Son of God” right at the end as Jesus lay on the cross. Oh dear.

That was then. Today we have so many options hundreds of tv channels, the internet and social media, my the professional trolls have their work cut out for them at Christmas time.

This year by way of a change I wandered over to You Tube to have a look at some clips of bursting cysts and abscess I’ve been taking an increased interest in puss since I was informed an abscess on my pancreas had burst and caused septicemia and other complications. Is there puss in internal abscess and if there is where does it go because if all that gunge leaks into the blood stream its amazing anyone including me survives such poisoning. Yuk! So there I was stuck on puss and gore when I just happened to see, and who could miss it, a clip about serial killers.

Have you noticed serial killers have gone out of fashion in favour  it seems of mass killers of groups of innocent people. Isn’t that odd? It seems to me that from the seventies through to the nineties all we heard about was serial killers. Only think of them Gains, Gacy, Cottingham, Dahmer, Nilson, Sutcliffe and so on the list seemed endless. And then it stopped.

Now the big fear is mass killings the politically correct favourites are deranged white people killing black or anyone who is not white. The other biggie are the terrorist killings terrorists are not fussy who they kill so not as politically correct but in some ways the indifference and anonymity does add a frisson of if not fear perhaps anxiety.

I’m not interested in mass killers, oh I go through the motions of condemning them and their cause but I grew up with IRA terrorism and its not that I or anyone feels immune or indifferent but we do acclimatize and as bad as it is mass killings and terrorism are not personal or scary in the sense that you have to double check all the locks and bolts to try to feel safe.

Serial killers however are scary, they don’t seem to choose a victim based on looks although gender does seem to be important to many of them. Most serial killers seem to have things in common, they collect ‘trophies’ of their victims, they choose a particular type of person again not based on looks more on the kind of character or personality and no serial killer that I’ve heard of has ever said he or she didn’t know why they did it, they all knew! Even if it didn’t make sense to anyone but them.

Gacy surely didn’t need to bury more than twenty people under the crawl space in his home. If he did its a good thing he was American most British homes don’t have crawl spaces.

Gains seems to have had a bit of a thing about his mother but as far as I know no one knows for sure if he loved or hated her

Nilson and Dahmer both homosexual murdered young men some say it was to stop the men leaving but is that a good reason to chop someone up and eat bits? Does anyone know if they killed gay young men because they hated being gay or could it be because being young and gay doesn’t last longer than youth and they wanted to preserve the youthful attractiveness of their victims. Hmm

The same could be said of Cottingham and Sutcliffe who murdered women many of them prostitutes. Did they do it because young women grow into older women and they wanted to somehow stop the aging process?

All four appear to have been sexual sadists could that have been the real reason? Presumably a sexual sadist wants to cause as much pain as possible and if a victim is killed does that increase the sexual experience or stop it? I’m leaning toward stop it or at least an oops…..

I really don’t know much about serial killers nor do I want to know I’d hang the lot of them including the Russian guy who is said to have murdered more than fifty people.

All I know for now is that serial killers seem to have gone out of fashion.

Christmas Day

It is Christmas Day in the Workhouse,
And the cold bare walls are bright
With garlands of green and holly,
And the place is a pleasant sight:
For with clean-washed hands and faces,
In a long and hungry line
The paupers sit at the tables
For this is the hour they dine.
And the guardians and their ladies,
Although the wind is east,
Have come in their furs and wrappers,
To watch their charges feast;
To smile and be condescending,
Put pudding on pauper plates,
To be hosts at the workhouse banquet
They've paid for - with their rates.

Oh, the paupers are meek and lowly
With their 'Thank'ee kindly, mum's'
So long as they fill their stomachs,
What matter it whence it comes?
But one of the old men mutters,
And pushes his plate aside:
'Great God!' he cries; 'but it chokes me!
For this is the day she died.'

The guardians gazed in horror,
The master's face went white;
'Did a pauper refuse the pudding?'
Could their ears believe aright?
Then the ladies clutched their husbands,
Thinking the man would die,
Struck by a bolt, or something,
By the outraged One on high.

But the pauper sat for a moment,
Then rose 'mid a silence grim,
For the others had ceased to chatter
And trembled in every limb.
He looked at the guardians' ladies,
Then, eyeing their lords, he said,
'I eat not the food of villains
Whose hands are foul and red:

'Whose victims cry for vengeance
From their dank, unhallowed graves.'
'He's drunk!' said the workhouse master,
'Or else he's mad and raves.'
'Not drunk or mad,' cried the pauper,
'But only a hunted beast,
Who, torn by the hounds and mangled,
Declines the vulture's feast.

'Keep your hands off me, curse you!
Hear me right out to the end.
You come here to see how paupers
The season of Christmas spend.
You come here to watch us feeding,
As they watch the captured beast.
Hear why a penniless pauper
Spits on your paltry feast.

'Do you think I will take your bounty,
And let you smile and think
You're doing a noble action
With the parish's meat and drink?
Where's my wife, you traitors -
The poor old wife you slew?
Yes, by the God above us,
My Nance was killed by you!

'Last winter my wife lay dying,
Starved in a filthy den;
I had never been to the parish, -
I came to the parish then.
I swallowed my pride in coming,
For, ere the ruin came,
I held up my head as a trader,
And I bore a spotless name.

'I came to the parish, craving
Break for a starving wife,
Bread for the woman who'd loved me
Through fifty years of life;
And what do you think they told me,
Mocking my awful grief?
That 'the House' was open to us,
But they wouldn't give 'out relief.'

'I slunk to the filthy alley -
'Twas a cold, raw Christmas eve -
And the bakers' shops were open,
Tempting a man to thieve;
But I clenched my fists together,
Holding my head awry,
So I came to her empty-handed
And mournfully told her why.

'Then I told her 'the House' was open;
She had heard of the ways of that,
For her bloodless cheeks went crimson,
And up in her rags she sat,
Crying, 'Bide the Christmas here, John,
We've never had one apart;
I think I can bear the hunger, -
The other would break my heart.'

'All through that eve I watched her,
Holding her hand in mine,
Praying the Lord, and weeping,
Till my lips were salt as brine.
I asked her once if she hungered,
And as she answered 'No,'
The moon shone in at the window
Set in a wreath of snow.

'Then the room was bathed in glory,
And I saw in my darling's eyes
The far-away look of wonder
That comes when the spirit flies;
And her lips were parched and parted,
And her reason came and went,
For she raved of our home in Devon,
Where our happiest years were spent.

'And the accents long forgotten,
Came back to the tongue once more,
For she talked like the country lassie
I woo'd by the Devon shore.
Then she rose to her feet and trembled,
And fell on the rags and moaned,
And, 'Give me a crust - I'm famished -
For the love of God!' she groaned.

'I rushed from the room like a madman,
And flew to the workhouse gate,
Crying, 'Food for a dying woman!'
And the answer came, 'Too late.'
They drove me away with curses;
Then I fought with a dog in the street,
And tore from the mongrel's clutches
A crust he was trying to eat.

'Back, through the filthy by-lanes!
Back, through the trampled slush!
Up to the crazy garret,
Wrapped in an awful hush.
My heart sank down at the threshold,
And I paused with a sudden thrill,
For there in the silv'ry moonlight
My Nance lay, cold and still.

'Up to the blackened ceiling
The sunken eyes were cast -
I knew on those lips all bloodless
My name had been the last;
She'd called for her absent husband -
O God! had I but known! -
Had called in vain, and in anguish
Had died in that den - alone.

'Yes, there, in a land of plenty,
Lay a loving woman dead,
Cruelly starved and murdered
For a loaf of the parish bread.
At yonder gate, last Christmas,
I craved for a human life.
You, who would feast us paupers,
What of my murdered wife!

'There, get ye gone to your dinners;
Don't mind me in the least;
Think of the happy paupers
Eating your Christmas feast;
And when you recount their blessings
In your smug parochial way,
Say what you did for me, too,
Only last Christmas Day.' 

George Robert Sims

Source:  http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/christmas-day-in-the-workhouse/

The last resort of the desperate and as time wore on increasingly for the elderly and disabled. The last vestige of the poor laws disappeared in 1948. It may seem as if Workhouses belong in the ancient past but 1948 is less than a hundred years. Not so long ago at all.

Its that Time Again and I know I'm Lucky to be Alive

Have a wonderful Christmas

Me? I'm really not in the mood..

What is it

I don't remember ever feeling depressed at Christmas I'm not even sure if I feel depressed now. I feel exhausted, angry and very upset but are they the same as depression? I don't think so.

I'm always tired, and I've been always tired for at least a couple of years. I literally have to force myself to do anything and so I do very little.

Is feeling tired to do with having been ill? Probably but if it is its a peripheral thing I should be getting on with things and I'm not or only ever the bare essentials and only at the last minute.

People can give themselves all the excuses they like it doesn't alter what was done and it doesn't change or help the future.

This & That

I tried telling myself I could leave it 'til later but its Christmas how much later is allowed? Not enough is the answer. I walked into town and frankly on a dull, grey, blustery day its a boring walk not one redeeming feature.

Oh well, once in town it did get a bit better I went into the bank there wasn't a queue and this always brightens my mood. Not enough after all I am still in town but at least I don't have to queue for the privilege of paying in or taking out my own money, there is much to be said for keeping your wealth under the mattress or if there's a danger climbing into such a bed would be like climbing Mount Everest put it in a hay shed for who would ever look there.....

I really haven't kept up with whatever Mr Murphy has been doing in his spare time but and its just my opinion, I reckon you'd need oxygen to get to the top of E800,000.

Not the point! Tom Murphy did not get a fair trial. I don't care about excuses the state was the victim, the investigator, the prosecution, the judge and the jury and that no matter who is on trial is wrong.

I digress! I was in town never a pleasant experience for me and its hardly my fault if standing at the cash desk I couldn't help but notice that my balance is less than E800,000 by about E799,900 and the bank charges for what it is pleased to call its services. Huh! There's a lot to be said for hay sheds or in my case a sock...

However needs must and I hobbled off, hips giving me gyp, to do my shopping which I kept to a minimum because I wasn't in the mood, would you believe the people in the second shop I went into knew my name? They did. I don't know how they knew I don't know any of their names. Its not that they are unpleasant they're all very nice people but they know my name and I'd had enough. I went home.

Greville Janner

Has finally died. How relieved some of his friends and fellow paedophiles in the establishment must be.

In 1991 in a court case involving the notorious paedophile Frank Beck Janner was accused of sexually abusing a boy. He denied it and won. Following the trial Janner made a speech in parliament and received a standing ovation from fellow MPs. His friend and colleague Keith Vaz MP was so impressed he tried to get the law changed.

In 2009 Child Sexual Abuse was in the headlines again and thanks in large part to the power of the internet and the determination of victims and their supporters it was clear Child Sexual Abusers were being hunted as never before. The victims of paedophiles discovered they had more support than they had previously been aware of and they grew in number, strength and confidence.

In 2009 Greville Janner was found to be suffering from dementia. A Lasting Power of Attorney was issued and he put his assets out of reach. But however demented he was he didn't stop attending the House of Lords he appeared some 203 time after the diagnosis was made and was paid each time. The total being more than a £100,000 

Janner only stopped going to the House of Lords in December 2013 which is when sheer coincidence I'm sure...His home was searched by police who were apparently finally shamed into doing their job.

Janner spent years wriggling out of accusations of Child Sexual Abuse the last time being just a month or so ago when he was declared unfit to stand trial.

All of the victims of Lord Janner were young boys as many as twenty two are said to be suing him.

And now Greville Janner is dead.

Al Capone

Alphonse Gabriel Capone was leader of a mafia gang in Chicago. He was a notorious gangster and the equally notorious Chicago mayor and chief of police of the time did nothing to stop his reign.

In 1931 the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) failing to find evidence of any other crime prosecuted Al Capone for tax evasion. He was found guilty and sentenced to eleven years in prison. I've no idea what happened to the corrupt mayor or the equally corrupt police chief but I wouldn't be surprised to find they lived to respectable and very wealthy old age.

Thomas 'Slab' Murphy is alleged to be the chief of staff of the IRA Irish Republican Army (spit). We don't know this for sure because there's no evidence or even definite allegations which no doubt explains why Tom Murphy was charged with, of all things in Ireland: tax evasion.

You know what? Charges against both Capone and Murphy  were measly, cowardly and in the case of Ireland downright reeking of hypocrisy.

I'm no supporter of the IRA. I do believe in a united Ireland but I don't think its worth killing for. I think murdering people delays unity and increases the distrust and suspicion of both sides. And, I've no time for Tom Murphy either if the Irish government were to charge him with the murder of however many people I would fully support it but that's not what happened

Tom Murphy is a very powerful and at the moment still rich man, for all I know he may well have fiddled taxes and been involved with various other not quite legal money making enterprises that's not the point.

The point is Ireland went bankrupt because of the alleged corruption of various politicians, bankers and property developers and the Irish authorities full of righteous indignation charge one man apparently unconnected to AIB, NAMA or Bankers, with of all things tax evasion.

How many bankers have been charged, how many corrupt politicians took nice big brown envelopes padded with cash and how many property developers are sitting in luxury mansions free as a bird and not even questioned much less charged with any crime?

Whatever else he is Tom Murphy is not Al Capone. He is and has always been a loyal member of the poxy IRA. He had a major role in the peace negotiations indeed it could be said that without him there would have been no Good Friday or if you're Unionist Belfast agreement.

And he is charged and found guilty of tax evasion, and I find myself defending Tom 'Slab' Murphy. Not because I like him or the scumbags in the IRA. I just can't stand the eye watering hypocrisy of it. Because would you believe it it was a no jury also known as Diplock trial! So, the state charged someone with offences against the state and it was tried and judged by the state.

I've never been against Diplock trials I believe the proliferation of gangs means Diplock trials are likely to increase not decrease, but there's reason in all things and if anyone is to be charged with a crime against bureaucracy to have any credibility at all the trial must be by jury. 

You really could not make this shit up. Its not even fucking original.

What's in a Name?

Child Sexual Abuse is not the same as rape although obviously it includes rape but it also includes much more. Often its not a stranger and not in some alley or quiet street or park. Child Sexual Abuse (CSA) happens in places a child should feel safe: the home, school, clubs are places where some of the very people we should be able to trust fail so many children.

Late last evening I read something that angered me. It seems the governments much admired £4.85 million earmarked for victims of CSA didn't get to many actual CSA charities it went here and there much of it to Rape Crisis Groups and I have a problem with that.

As the figures were mentioned on Twitter a member or supporter of Rape Crisis appeared and said to the effect Why not, what's in a name?

There's a great deal in a name, most adult rapes fall into three or four categories 1) date rape 2) domestic abuse) 3) Someone we know 4) A stranger we encounter outside our home or a home invader. There are variations but those are the main groups rapists fall into. And, they have very little to do with CSA To deal with the trauma of CSA the treatment has to be far more in depth and specialised than that provided for victims of adult rape.

Child sexual abuse is more likely to be long term rather than a sudden abduction. Its more likely to be a family member, a close friend of the family or someone automatically respected by parents like a teacher or a coach. All rape involves emotional psychological and mental damage but in every case the harm done to children has to be much greater and longer lasting than the harm done to adults. Adults have much more experience of life and trust and much more sexual experience, maybe domestic abuse is the closest comparison but again its done to an adult by someone they know and have very much more experience of than a child possibly could. To me it seems the connection between CSA and adult rape is very thin and assuming such a connection could do more harm than good to the child victim even if the child victim is an adult when they receive counseling.

Rape Crisis Groups are good for women but are they as good even for men? How many men rape victims go to or even contact Rape Crisis groups the very name sounds female and whilst in time men may find it easier to talk to women about rape I believe it does take time.

For children it must be almost unimaginable to even consider rape crisis as an option. So I think names do matter and I think specialist professional CSA counselors should have got the bulk of the funding. I also think that the main reason child sexual abuse survivor groups didn't get the funding is a) controversy surrounding some groups and b) the good counseling groups won't necessarily toe the establishment line, why would they most were founded because of the lack of appropriate counseling and total lack of establishment support for CSA victims.

So for the most part the government have given a lot of money to established groups who they know will behave in a satisfactory manner which means stay within government guide lines and most important of all be the soul of discretion.

None of which is necessarily in the best interest of child victims.

I've said before that counseling irritates me much of it is new, lacks proper training and like so many charitable organisations almost all of it is money orientated. Not too long ago CSA was rarely if ever mentioned there seemed to be an unwritten law, a taboo about even admitting it happened. The first chink of light was I think the exposure of child abusing priests and nuns in the Roman Catholic Church in the USA and Ireland, slowly after that the floodgates began to open. At which point CSA became a subject of financial interest to some groups.

I think names matter specialist child sexual abuse counselors are essential, Money allocated for victims of child sexual abuse should only go to qualified professional specialist child sexual abuse counselors if not then yet again children will lose.

This is just my opinion and I'm no expert but I do think its an important subject because it maybe that this time not all the money allocated to victims of CSA has gone to them, much of it may well be used to provide counseling therapy for adult victims of rape which is in one way a good thing but in another more important way its very bad.

Its that Time Again

The gas arrived

So did the electricity bill

Its not the gas or the electric its that each time the gas is filled up and the electricity bill hits the carpet I'm reminded I've not gone and I'm not going anywhere yet.

I hate it.

It never fails to depress me. I should have been gone in July but ill health got in the way.

Now I don't know when and it feels like never.

Bloody bills, bloody house.

Bullying

Its in the press on TV and its everywhere on Social Media. Bullying and bullies the two top trendy words and possibly the most misunderstood subject ever.

It bothers me because by continually using the word to describe trivial events we devalue the meaning to such an extent it becomes a nothing almost meaningless and who ever suffers from anything that is almost meaningless?

Bullying is not one blog post or one insult  however wounding nor is it a squabble on Twitter or Facebook, all can cause great harm but neither are full on bullying which should lead us to ask: so what is bullying?

Here is a definition from Wikipedia

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bullying

Jump to Definitions - Bullying is the use of force, threat, or coercion to abuse, intimidate, or aggressively dominate others. The behavior is often repeated and habitual. One essential prerequisite is the perception, by the bully or by others, of an imbalance of social or physical power, which distinguishes bullying from conflict.
---

Bullying is never a one off argument between peers every living being grows up with and among arguments that's not bullying not even if you lose the argument.

Bullying is, whatever the experts say, long term. Its a form of character assassination and its a form of imposed servitude similar to slavery. You can run away from it for a time but you can't escape it. In the end you have to face it and deal with it.

The way we deal with bullying varies and can take years. Bullying can wreck our school years because school is not our own or even our parents choice so its impossible to escape the school environment. Its a case then of ducking and diving arriving at school first or last and hiding in cornersd during breaks.

Bullying can force us to move jobs to escape a bully who is impossible to deal with in many cases complaints don't seem to be considered important or relevant to work nothing could be further from the truth a bully will always find a victim and that must cause problems at work.

In some tragic cases the only escape for the victims can be suicide.  No one commits suicide because of a one off verbal or physical assault. The assault that leads to suicide is done over time, often involving others and always involving pain emotional and physical and both public and private humiliation.

The answer?

I really don't know. Oh, I know the obvious ones we all know those and we also know they don't always work, some schools seem willfully blind to bullying and some work places actually promote bullies because they see them as driven and driver of people and those firms also refuse to recognise the results of bullying.

Bullying is everywhere even maybe especially in communities the nasty gossip between neighbours and very often church goers because few bullies are worse than the pious, sanctimonious but oh so respectable church goer.

No, bullying is not a slanging match on Twitter or Facebook  although they have been known to be an extension of or start of bullying and neither Twitter or Facebook can end bullying that can only come from recognition outside the bulling crowd and from within the bullies.

Often a bully is a weak envious person almost anything they envy is a subconscious reason to hate someone, they see hurting their victim as a way of taking what they envy their victim for and with the advantage as they see it of affirming their own status and popularity within their peer group.

Ending bullying is not a simple or easy thing to do possibly the only way is to find out what is the bullies underlying problem because there will be at least one problem and if it can't be found the bully can't be stopped s/he can only be moved and wherever they go they will take the tendency with them.

In the end both bully and victim are in a shared pain but only by treating the bully can the pain be cured.

Not a Rant a Whine

It started fine I got there in plenty of time went to the hole in the wall and waited while the woman ahead of me did her thing. As she walked away I was about to put my card in when I noticed there was cash in the slot. Technically I know I should have taken it into the bank but I'd seen the woman just a second ago so on instinct I ran to the curb and called her. She turned looked at me and I said "Did you forget something?" The look on her face! I gave her the money and returned to the bank to get mine.

Technically I should have taken the money into the bank but if I had the woman might have had to wait until tomorrow or later to get her money and you never know that might have been all she had. It wasn't much and if it turns out I made a mistake I can replace the lost 20 euros without too much pain.

After that the trip was an up hill struggle. I saw the paedophiles employment agent aka mini cab driver and that pissed me off. It takes such control not to tell him exactly what I think of him the struggle wears me out.

In the end I didn't do much shopping I don't like the avaricious type of person and I don't like dismissive type of people it would be too easy for me to be the same and I don't see why if I can make an effort to be polite others cant.

Not a good trip it should have been I had a laugh in the second hand shop, gave the forgetful woman her money and did what I went to town to do except I didn't do even a half of it. I didn't have the heart. I did the barest minimum and went home.

All the Long, Long Day

Endoscopy EUS
Is an endoscopy examination combined with Ultra sound test.

First things First
I had an appointment at 10 am at St James Hospital in Dublin. Naturally I no sooner saw the address than I went into one. I  rang my local hospital, Mayo General in Castlebar and shrieked that it was impossible I couldn't leave my cats and dogs for so long, I couldn't get there in time and anyway I don't like Dublin. So there.

For some inexplicable reason Mayo General were unmoved the clinic insisted I go, they said Mayo General doesn't do Endoscopy EUS. So there!

I cried I really did I know its silly and if anyone is ever old enough to know better I am but I'm not one hundred percent fit and anyway I'm very fond of getting my own way and this time I couldn't, of course I was upset! I was spitting nails!

However in due course and let me tell you it took several hours I calmed down, made inquiries and after my usual dithering booked a cab, there really wasn't a lot choice, there is no as far as I know, quicker way to get to Dublin by 10 am there are buses one goes at 01.am and arrives at 5.30 am the other one goes at 5.30 am and arrives in Dublin at 10.30 am, neither are what you might call ideal and getting to town in the pitch black, freezing cold night is not ideal either.

So, at enormous expense I went by cab which involved leaving home at about 6.20 am and getting to St James in Dublin at 9.0 am (ish).

St James Hospital

Is huge. I bet it covers acres of Dublin and is the major employer in the area. Its also efficient and the staff are kind and empathic. As you might have noticed I do like St James Hospital.

I was taken into the Endoscopy department at about 10.30 am which is good for a hospital department that seemed packed to the gills. Once there I lay on a trolley type bed until the doctor was ready. I fell asleep.

A nurse woke me at about 12 and took me into the test area where still on the trolley I was told to get into the right position which apparently is lying on your left side. The staff seemed to take it for granted that I would have sedation I said "no" Well that's not quite right I asked what sedation involved and they said it meant I would need a responsible adult... and I would have to be driven home and watched for twenty four hours. I don't like being watched for five minutes. I said no sedation!

I must be honest this wasn't an heroic act or ignorant bravery I have had an endoscopy test before I know how gut wrenchingly awful it is but I also know it doesn't take long and if you don't have the anesthetic you can go home almost immediately and sulk at your own time and at your own leisure.

I had the test they tried to take my teeth off me but I held them in a tissue in my hand and refused to let go.

I did not kick the doctor or the nurse, which is a little, really quite minor, indiscretion I have been known to indulge in with doctors and dentists.  I was apart from my attachment to my teeth very well behaved I gagged on the truly appalling stuff they use to numb your throat and I gagged and gagged when they put the endoscopy tube down my throat I wasn't being difficult I defy anyone to cope with an alien object being shoved down their throat without gagging. A long way down the throat that is not the usual tickle the tonsils job at all.

The doctor twiddled with the tube moving it here and there and naturally I gagged at each move He and the nurse talked all the while mostly about nothing that interested me but  there was something about a gall stone moving He said passing but I'm pretty sure I'd have noticed if a gall stone passed me.

Afterward I had to wait for the numbness to wear off and for the doctor to come and talk to me. I was only slightly restless. I mean I know I kept looking at my watch and glaring at nurses but I didn't actually say anything well not for an hour or so, and then I asked one of the nurses how much longer I would have to wait because I did want to get back to Mayo that night and I had two cats and three dogs sitting with their legs crossed and one of the dogs, she who is a tiny little pain in the arse, can't be entirely trusted with anything least of all her own bladder.

Good News! I Hope

The doctor came to see me and he said he thinks my solitary gall stone passed but there looks to be something he called gristle. I don't know from gall stones I asked about my Pancreas and he said. He thought it looked the right size! No inflammation!!

I think I have to wait for the full diagnosis from my GP or the consultant at Mayo General but I'm smiling I do at this minute think its good news. Phew!

Going Home

Involved a long walk until I got fed up and got a bus to the bus station All day I had promised myself that I would get a MacDonalds and save it to heat in the microwave when I got home, and just as I was on the bus I saw a Burger King and a MacDonalds right next door to each other. I immediately decided to get one of each. I got up and the bus driver put his hand out and said "No, you're not there yet" And the bloody burgers shot out of sight! But not out of mind all the way home I was thinking of the burgers I didn't get.

I got to the bus station just after 3 pm and the bus home was due to leave at 4 pm. I relaxed, bought a Cajun Chicken sandwich a cup of tea and a packet of eclairs for the addict.

The bus was on time and full, so many people travelling its a bit shocking when you think many of them were going home from work. It must mean they have to do a four hour journey twice a day to earn a living and that's tragic and something any government should be ashamed of.

I got back to town at about 8 pm called a cab and was home giving the dogs and cats a run in the pitch black garden at 8.30 pm.

And that's it!

The whole story of my trip to Dublin, the Endoscopy test and yet again the total absence of burgers. But! I think its good news and I'm very grateful to the kind doctors, nurses and admin staff of St James Hospital Dublin who treated a recalcitrant and not always polite woman with courtesy, respect and kindness.

Living with Lies

Its not one case of emperors clothes the lies are naked and they are everywhere.

A Tory MP is said to be involved in selling, distributing ISIS oil and no doubt making yet another million. Is it front page news, does anyone care, has he resigned? It doesn't seem so, and as I write this post he has not.

Another Tory MP receives an email criticizing and insulting her  what does she do? Report it as abusive, send a reply to the author of the email giving him precise instructions as to where he can put his email? She does not. She adds a threat to kill her to the senders email, publishes it and, as anyone with a double digit IQ could have told her, is immediately caught. Does she resign, is she sacked? No she does not, and again not as far as I know.

A Labour MP, quite a senior one, publishes a threatening, insulting email he says he received but which on cursory examination appears to have been written by himself or by someone with access to his online account. Has he resigned? Of course not.

The chancellor of the exchequer is accused of consorting with prostitutes and taking drugs. His accuser publishes incriminating pictures and some more decidedly odd pictures are published including of him in the House of Commons. Does he resign, is he sacked? The answer is very straightforward NO and NO.

The Prime minister is said to have performed a sex act on a dead pigs head in order to be accepted into some dining club or other. Does he resign? He does NOT

A terrorist army called ISIS are committing mass murder and invading countries in the name of their god but we are told not to call them ISIS which is Islamic and we can't call Islamic State terrorists Islamic because it might offend Muslims. In the meantime ISIS not Daesh are continuing to rape and murder anyone who doesn't fit their opinion of the ideal Muslim.

On a lighter but no less irritating note some rubbish rag or other is doing its 'Woman of the Year' award and who is prominent among the nominations? None other than Caitlyn Jenner who as far as I know has not as yet completed the medical transformation of male to female. However anyone thinking the presence of dangly bits should prevent a) the nomination or b) any chance of winning is wrong. The dangly bits were still attached when earlier this year 'she' won another 'Woman of the Year' award.

We are not just ignoring hypocrisy we are wallowing in it, anyone unwise enough to object is condemned as racist, insulted unmercifully and held up as an object of ridicule.

I would just like to know when we sunk this low and how did we all manage to miss the total lack of oxygen?

Shopping up a Storm

I had to go I wanted to check the times of buses to Dublin and as I mentioned in a previous post I hadn’t done much shopping when I was in town on Monday, which is a bit by the by really because I didn’t do much shopping in town yesterday either. I didn’t even get light bulbs the main reason along with bus timetables that I went.

It was ferocious the wind roared contempt for Mayo, the rain had such force it stung as it landed and by about 3.30 pm the sun had had enough and done a runner for anywhere else.

I walked in which just proves I’m stronger than I look or feel. Being me I naturally wore suede shoes, they’re drying under a radiator the gods know when or if they will ever be fit to wear again. The wretched hood on my coat wouldn’t stay up it seemed to me the wind took an altogether unhealthy and unnatural interest in my hood tossing it off my head every time I pulled it up and dared to think I had secured it. I was soaked and the wind blew, the lights were vomit yellow and the rain came at you from every direction.

The first shop I went into was fine I bought an envelope and some stamps which is when I realised I had forgotten the sellotape I had so carefully left in a prominent place on the coffee table, so I wouldn’t forget you understand.

The shop assistant was lovely as we had a brief chat I mentioned to her that I had three or four rolls of sellotape from previous visits she handed me the big roll the shop owners use and told me to write the address at the little desk on the corner. I was very grateful and shot off to the desk, really its a table but desk sounds more efficient, and quickly wrote the address and sealed the envelope and that was just as well because would you believe the shop owner appeared grabbed the sellotape and ran off saying I could have it if I needed it again.

How fortunate that I didn’t. I went to the counter and apologised to the assistant who I suspect is a daughter in law for taking so long, less than five minutes, and being a nuisance. She laughed and said not to worry if only all their customers were as much of a nuisance!

Ahh, the fabled generosity of the Irish!

I am very discreet but I am also thoroughly pissed off with the fabled generosity of the Irish. Needless to say however if I ever do discover or am told something that requires discretion you my dear and cherished reader will never know.

In the meantime I have to get to Dublin by 10 am I’m reluctantly giving in to the idea an overnight stay will be required.

Did I mention I took my walking stick not because I limp but because I feel better knowing that if I need to I have something I can lean on. I didn’t need and frankly I’m jolly lucky I still have a walking stick. First I forgot and left it in a shop. I was waiting for a taxi home when I remembered it ran back to the shop  and saw it immediately. The shop assistant had put it in a prominent position so that even I couldn’t miss it and I was grateful, after that I held on to my cane all the while until I got out of the taxi at my door where I forgot all about it and left it in the cab. The very kind taxi driver brought it home to me later.

There is generosity in Ireland you find it in the strangers who stop what they’re doing to help you, who let you use their own sellotape rather than milking you for a whole roll. Its in the taxi driver lady who wouldn’t take any money for returning the walking stick which when you think about it is another whole fare, and its in the lady at the shop who placed the stick in a prominent position so that the forgetful, anxious, guilty owner would see it immediately and be reassured

Ireland is full of such unspoken and often I’m ashamed to say unnoticed generosity However pissed off I am with the fabled generosity of the Irish I do remember and appreciate the unconscious instinctive kindness of most of the people I’ve met.

Its Time

I have to go to Dublin I hate Dublin not more or less than other cities I hate London and all major cities. I’ve outgrown them is all.

So to have to go to Dublin is a very big deal, very upsetting. My initial reaction was to cancel the appointment but it is too close and realistically too important I have to know so I have to go and its very upsetting.

Trying to look on the bright side it maybe that this dreaded, hated trip is the catalyst I need to get a move on. Time stopped being on my side when I hit sixty which to be fair is when it stops being on anyone’s side.

Upset, fed up and unless I make a move closely followed by a decision it will only get worse and unsurprisingly my mood will deteriorate even further in response.

Is it all Smoke and Mirrors?

About six months ago those who follow child sexual abuse (CSA) time lines were alarmed to read that a prominent victim and supporter of victims of CSA had been taken ill, there were some tantalizingly vague tweets about her state of health and loads of good will messages. In time it was whispered to be  a failed suicide attempt but not to worry the crisis was over and the victim was feeling much better. All good healthy stuff. Or was it.

This past week there has been a kind of coup one forum of CSA victim supporters has recreated itself installed new members, dismissed its chairman and created a new one. It has apparently been a very nasty, hurtful process, and guess what? One of its leading movers and shakers is the poor woman who attempted suicide and who in shoving all opposition aside has shown the kind of ruthless streak few of us would have believed possible in one so wounded.

A failed suicide who apparently works whilst being on Twitter virtually 24/7 I’m impressed. Or I would be if I believed a word of it.

She may have attempted suicide how could I know? What can I say I can’t be sure she did or that she even wrote any tweets. I hope she is an intelligent, capable woman because I do believe she may be what the media love to refer to as a useful idiot.

She has made a number of allegations and on this I do believe her which doesn’t mean I believe the allegations will get as far as official charges never mind a trial. All too often allegations of child sexual abuse fail not because they are not true but because there is a lack of physical evidence. Its very sad for everyone and for the victims of child sexual abuse it must be agonising

Its a pity then that all the angst and suffering of the many genuine victims of child sexual abuse including her is added to by the apparently never ending hate fest going on between different factions of victims supporters groups on Twitter, maybe its someones shrill and silly idea to keep the subject in the public arena, but if it is its in grave danger of turning people against the real victims of child sexual abuse and I do sometimes wonder if that and other matters could be the real reasons.

One of the other matters is funding, there is a lot of money to be made supporting and counselling victims of abuse. Grants are available from local authority, government and public charities. In order to apply for grants you need to establish a group, you need counselors and most important of all you need victims.

The third reason maybe a need for some form of celebrity some people long to be famous and respected I think its a mistake to under estimate the need some people have to feel respected and even admired  I can think of few things more unhealthy to a recovering victim of CSA than to be burdened with the un-attained ambitions of another.

I’ve mentioned these subjects before both on blog and on Twitter I believe these silly and often contrived disputes endanger the whole search for justice for victims of child sexual abuse.

For now my sympathies are with the victims of the latest bout of undignified, unmerciful infighting. If, that is any of it is true.

Sigh.....

I hate going to town for a couple of reasons one of them being I always forget something and then I get annoyed with myself, and so it was today.

It was cold, damp miserable although I do think the Christmas lights are up I've actually never seen the towns Christmas lights on but every year I do see the wires and leads trailing through the sky and I must admit seeing them creates a kind of anticipation what are they like, are there any flashing or moving lights? It doesn't matter where you live Christmas lights definitely look better when its dark and the lights are on.

I didn't do much shopping its Monday several shops were shut and anyway I didn't need much cats and dogs are catered for and the freezer is full I could probably last the week but I rather more probably won't. I forget stuff I never get home but I end up standing in the kitchen hating myself for my latest bout of amnesia.

I mean coleslaw surely to goodness if you buy the reason you want the coleslaw you would remember to buy the actual fucking coleslaw. Not me, gone are the days when I had any even the remotest connection to common sense.

I'm fed up. I don't want to be here and I forgot the pigging coleslaw and, I have now thanks to the UK prime minister and at least one of his little idiosyncrasies got to be very careful how I use a word like 'pigging'. Its a hard, hard life right enough particularly for some unfortunate pigs and anyway very few people are kind and understanding about what he did with a pig

Talking of pigs and what should be done with them: *I don't like that there are people on Twitter who actually believe they can dictate what subject and people a person, me, follows. Of course they could be employees of Twitter and I'm looking forward to the day when if no one else does it first I will out them. In fact my impatience is beginning to show. I'm kind to victims of anything especially anyone who was physically or sexually abused when they were children, but I don't like lies or fraud and this particular group have been visible for some time. 

Naturally I copied the time line and it does read well. I don't want to hear denials and nor when it gets to court will anyone else and its not like one of them hasn't got form for being a lying prat in court.

So not a good day. I should have gone to Castlebar but by the time I got myself organised it was too late, bearing in mind its twilight at 4pm and dark by 5pm. I should have gone if I had it would be done now instead of looming ahead of me like a dentist appointment.

Update 1/12/2015

There appears to have been a bit of a dust up in the dove cot which may or may not be connected to * above

A Tweet too Far

Twitter is full of what they call trolls I believe most of them are either employed by Twitter or in some cases encouraged by Twitter employees, there have been three deaths all suicides by people who got too close to Twitter and thought the behaviour there was allowed everywhere but for all the claims by the professionals the three suicides were amateurs not real trolls at all, such amateurs are the tools of professional trolls and when the amateurs are forced to acknowledge reality so the dread, fear and terrible depression that comes with knowing they have been used descend to evidently terrible effect.

Is Ireland the right place for Twitter I don't think so. Ireland is so very local its easy for those with vested interests to find and get to know employees of Twitter support its even probable that technical employees are allowed to get involved in targeting individuals. Its all publicity right?

There is something very, very wrong with all Social Media sites and its most visible on Twitter

They'll have been waiting for something frothing with rage and that was a mistake I've been enraged it doesn't work unless you deal with the cause. I'm dealing with the cause

Robin

pippakin ‏

9 seconds ago

Robin So bold He struts & swoops Its not for him To wait and stoop Robin Is first and then Come the Crows When the Magpie arrives clever Robin He goes swift 

As an arrow

Free as a bird

Integration

FWIW and it doesn’t mean much to me but I do want to put it out there when the runny stuff hits the fan I don’t want there to be room for excuses.

I did ‘integrate’ I was on a course for almost a year shopping getting to know some of the locals a little and enjoying a nice little town.

I did look for work but in Ireland at that time it was worse than trying to find the proverbial needle in a haystack and I felt guilty what was someone of my age and in my circumstances doing trying to get a job someone else, someone younger with family needed more.

What I didn’t and won’t do is go to church I dislike the Catholic Church I happen to be quite probably the only one in Ireland to be thrown out of the local church for being noisy. I was nine years old it was in London and I was not alone, one Sunday evening a whole gang of us decided to go to church. The priest was unimpressed.

I can see that becoming part of the community of church goers would have been useful but I don’t like dishonesty and I wasn’t keen on getting to know the local priest, when my uncle died I left two messages for the priest he didn’t return my call but at the funeral he asked if I was the one who had called.

A small thing maybe but it pissed me off it still does. A relative I was very fond of had died and I wanted to make sure that the church he had attended almost all his years in Ireland was organised and the priest didn’t return the calls.

Don’t dare talk to me about integrating I speak to some people regularly they may think I’m a bit eccentric but if there’s any honesty in them they won’t think I’m rude or nasty. I just don’t go to church and since I don’t drive travel to and from town is not something I do every day.

I won’t allow gossipy excuses like that to grow into any kind of so called explanation

To Our Very Good Health

All of us that is not just the relatively few who are lucky to always enjoy good health and good spirits

I don't want to go deep delving but I do want to say everyone has bad times and that includes me I've had my share but I don't want to make this about me that's narcissism. I only want to say that its possible very few of us have not been there.

The trick if it is a trick is to know that almost all things pass and those that don't can be made to pay.

I mean that in a general not personal sense. Illness, weakness teach their own lessons and when we recover one of them is maybe that we should be more considerate of the health and weakness of others.

Age also teaches us and one of the first things we should learn and rarely do until its almost too late is that physical age is irrelevant to intelligence, wisdom and empathy. Its even irrelevant to some maybe most experiences. Joy is still joy when we're seventy and grief is no less when we're seven.

There is a part of me that wants to grab someone by the neck and shake like a rag doll until they see sense but there is another part and that part says: first do no harm.

Blessings if you should pass this way may your God/s be with you and may you not stretch yourself too thin in their worship.

Aftermath

First is the sense of shock its overwhelming you look at the page and think that can't be right, but it is and its staring at you right there on the page of a book by a favourite author. Was it deliberate? I think so I've often said how much I liked his books. Note its now past tense.

Then there's anger white hot molten rage. Who would do such a thing and why? Well I know who to within three and I know how but with no explanation I'm unlikely ever to know why unless it goes to court.. The defence if it does go to court would be interesting and maybe enlightening, and it might well become part of one case or have an entire case to itself from which would unquestionably feed all the crimes relating to it. I sincerely hope the author of the latest, most shocking hurtful jibe is unaware of those crimes.

Being me I write about it I don't care if no one reads it that's not why I write and I don't care if those who do read it think its rubbish I don't write for applause. I write because I enjoy it that's all, and not all the outrageous assaults, the horrible accusations have or could change that. I like to write and I won't stop because some think I can't write. Is that what they think its about, if no one likes it give up?

I disagree, they are all outside and other they can't touch the instinct or feeling or whatever it is that make people want to write. I don't even know if there are many people left with such a feeling I suspect there are a lot of people who want to be writers but is that because they want to write or because they want to be famous authors?

Hmm.

Most people maybe all of them seem to think I can't write is that what's important or is it more important and much more satisfying to put what you think on paper or screen just because you can and you want to see and remember the colours you touched, the people you saw and the emotion you felt because if it is then readers are not a necessity although in a perfect world they would be a bonus.

So at the bottom of it all there's bewilderment who cares even to hate who cares enough to mention an unknown unimportant amateur writing the days? Opinionated, argumentative sometimes difficult but very rarely nasty and even then only when pushed to the limit of patience. Too 'talkative'? Is that it? Its probably part of it and I have to say that part is true but for a very long time now it was and still is part of something much bigger.

I don't know why if my writing is so dire so many people care about it I can't imagine why if its so bad its so often copied and I don't care. I feel really sick that cruelty exists in the world and I have been and still am a victim of some of it. Its not as if I haven't given warnings of why a settlement was necessary and now the first proof and it could get worse, much worse.

I have all the evidence I need and I can't now see any way but to use it. If I'm already a laughing stock what difference is there and it would be nice to get the last laugh. 

Pippakin a Critic

I  suppose the truth is I’ve always been a bit of a critic quite an acerbic one but I can also if and when the spirit moves me be constructive. Regrettably I have not felt so moved for the last several years and to be honest I can’t see that changing anytime soon.

I’ve written before both of how much I enjoyed the Discworld series of books by Terry Pratchett and also of my disappointment in his book The Dodger.

Dodger is a fascinating character and so is Stooge both are survivors any knocks they experience along lifes many strange and inconvenient paths would one has no doubt be brushed aside or possibly walked right over.

I was disappointed in Dodger but not surprised. In 2007 Terry Pratchett announced he had a form of Alzheimers and frankly whichever form you have is to me kind of irrelevant. Alzheimers deprives us of our memory but not before its deprived us of our independence, ability and our dignity, and it makes no difference if we are cared for by loved ones except perhaps it makes it harder for the sufferer and almost impossible for the carer.

I have some experience of dementia I cared for someone with the disease and a member of my family had it. You might say I’ve done my research.

Which brings me neatly to someone who didn’t do theirs.

Or did they …Any book by Terry Pratchett was always meticulously researched up to and including Dodger. I didn’t find Dodger hard going because it was poorly researched I found it almost impossible to get through because whoever wrote it lacked the legendary Terry Pratchett talent.

Raising Steam.

I honestly don’t know where to begin. Some of it, the subject matter was well researched and the idea, the introduction of steam to the discworld was brilliant however other significant to me parts were not.

Whoever, lets not call it ghost writing, guided the telling of the story may or may not lack talent. On reading the book it looks as though there is a total absence of the ability to so much as write their own name and address without turning it into something one simply has to bin by the second line.

But that’s unfair. The ability to write as someone else when you so obviously lack their imagination and wild talent is, must be very different to writing in your own style and on your own subject but there are people who apparently make a career of imitating other writing styles I’ve read a few someone even did a Robert Burns style poem to prove a point to say it was piss poor is to ignore the stench.

Maybe in such a situation changing the character and dialogue style of major characters is understandable and impossible to avoid but helpers should try because  changing a successful character had better be because the change is better not because the helper hasn’t a clue.

So, that was me the critic not exactly making excuses for the inexcusable and unforgivable.

By 2012 when The Dodger was published Terry Pratchett had to be suffering prolonged lapses caused by Alzheimers and by 2013 when Raising Steam was published he may well have been in a very serious condition. He died in March 2015 which probably means that for much of The Dodger Terry Pratchett had to rely on his helpers and by the time Raising Steam was ready for publication he must have had to rely on those helpers twenty four hours a day and perhaps been unable to properly supervise their work.

What Pippakin cares about

For the record I’m not one who minds being a laughing stock I’m sixty five years old, is it possible anyone of that age has sailed through life without slipping on one  and probably a dozen or more of lifes notorious banananana skins? I doubt it., even rich and powerful people the kind who have someone sweeping every smallest piece of rubbish including people from their own garlanded paths onto the dung heap laden tracks of the poor, and when it comes to the rich and powerful we are of course talking plurality of paths ,but even so some still occasionally go arse over tit into the noisome mire.

What gets my back so far up it would take a cruise missile to even attempt to bring it down?

Cruelty is the answer. I care about the kind of assault that leaves permanent if invisible scars, I care about those who find the actual pain someone else is suffering amusing, and I care about those who take advantage of an understanding empathic nature to hack and thieve, to take illegal pictures and share them possibly among the entire internet were any helpers among the recipients? If they were it confirms the reason for my style and commitment to stopping all such attacks particularly any further attacks on me. I care so much that in pursuit of them I’m like a dog with a bone I won’t let go and I do bite.

I think in his day Terry Pratchett would have been intrigued, oh he may have laughed may have been angry with me and others but he had a wild imagination and he would have looked for the sub plot.  His imagination would have taken it further would have wanted to know who was the real villain what was the motive and how many variations are there to the ending.

I doubt any research beyond the merest outline of railway history was done by the person or persons who had control of the research, the writing and the publication of Raising Steam.

Oh, and if you can’t ‘do’ original characters? Create new ones.

Feel free to sue I’d like nothing more.

ISIS Shock and Awe in Paris

It was hard to choose a picture the same colours appeared in almost every country. The famous landmarks of each country lit up to represent support for France and if we're not very careful war to every Muslim country.

Holy war

Not seen for centuries but the beginnings of it were visible in France and elsewhere and its maybe something some Islamist's don't fully understand. Western countries look and often behave in a secular even decadent manner because they can and its both fun and liberating. Until disaster strikes and then people light candles and place flowers both symbols of Christianity and if that isn't enough many go to church.

Christianity is old, older than Islam its presence in our lives is taken for granted even ignored most of the time but most people still get married in church, children are Christened in church, people are buried in Christian cemeteries and when tragedy strikes its the church people turn to and that turning has been happening for some time. Its visible in the growing anger at attempts to turn Christmas into 'the holidays'  as if acknowledging and respecting the core of western civilisation is somehow offensive. Christmas is back and we must all hope that the crusades don't return with it.

I think many Muslims are being taught that all they have to do is keep having children in time they will out number Christians, Atheists, Hindus, Buddhists Jews and everyone else. I believe before that happens there will be a bigger more destructive war than ever before lived through.

In many Mosques, ignorant ill educated Imams tell the followers they must not listen to non Muslims, they must not educate their children in the ways of other religions and most important they must obey Sharia law first. In some countries its worked if you look at some Asian countries Pakistan, Bangladesh for eg Islam is the biggest most aggressive religion treating non Muslims as lesser beings, but Islam is no respecter of Muslims either poor Muslims are treated almost as badly and slavery allowed in Islam is more or less normal. Muslims who believe they can take over Christian countries are treading and taking their followers down a very dangerous path.

In every war there have been what used to be called conscientious objectors and there were obviously some who sided with the enemy. All were dealt with ruthlessly in WW2 conscientious objectors were sent to prison or other out of the way places where they could do no harm, Nazi sympathisers either learned fast or were treated as enemy spies. Its not hard those who see an ineffectual politically correct police force and believe that's all there is are gullible fools there's a lot more all of it life threatening and the very beginnings of it are visible today on the streets of Paris.

I make no secret of despising Islam I want it banned. I want the burka and every religious head covering banned with it. I want to know gloves are worn because its cold not because a woman thinks showing her actual hands is a temptation too far for the uncontrollable male and I want every male who dares suggest such a thing thrown behind bars for the safety of all women and children.

But! I don't want the people of Islam hurt I want them to recognise and dispose of Islam the religion almost all of them were born to and had no choice about joining. I believe that in Muslim countries and all over the world women are the first and most tragic of Islams victims. I don't believe women want their daughter of eight or nine married off to a man in his forties and I don't believe women want their sons raised to believe their mother is no more than a slave to male demands.

I do believe that before a hostile Christian population allows Muslims to take over there will be a horrible and deadly confrontation

Paedophile A Victim?

About four years ago a man was recommended to me as a painter, decorator, odd job man. The man always bothered me in some ways he seemed almost child like, silly stuff like loving to flash the cash just to let you see he had some!

He wasn’t a great worker and he was a thief so obviously not one of my better choices even if he was recommended: always trust your instinct.

Gradually I discovered the man had a criminal conviction as far as I know it was and still is just one conviction but its for sexually assaulting young girls and that makes all the difference. If I’d known at the time I would never have given him the job.

It kind of leaks into a matter that’s bothered me for a long while.

What happens in a small town when someone is convicted of child abuse? There have been stories of paedophiles being attacked, driven from their homes and generally isolated. None of those things happened in this case but when I look back at the events I see his vulnerability and from there its possible to see similarities with the infamous cover ups of politician and establishment child abusers and those who protect them.

As soon as a paedophile is known and recognised he/she become vulnerable. I have no time or sympathy for any child abuser but if you think about it as soon as a paedophile is identified he or she is at risk and so as has been pointed out by others the paedophile becomes no more than a slave to his ‘protectors’.

Many paedophiles lose contact with family and few people outside the family will have anything to do with known paedophiles. If the paedophile had friends as soon as the crime is discovered the friends drop them as if they never existed.

Its a double tragedy, first and most important a child is harmed sometimes beyond recovery, a long way behind that is the paedophile, maybe friendless, maybe desperate. Its possible to feel the paedophiles tragedy but I would never, ever support or offer any kind of friendship however remote to a child abuser and that confirms the tragedy.

The last time I saw the painter and decorator he literally and I really mean literally, ran away from me. I found myself feeling sorry for him because I knew that our previous contact, he called me, was at the instigation and in the presence of the ‘friend’ who recommended him to me someone with a sick sense of humour thought it was funny and the poor man felt obliged to obey. How sick is that?

The paedophile has few choices he can move try to start again or he can try to carry on in his home area. I don’t feel sorry for paedophiles there’s no room for that but I can see how vulnerable they are and how easy it must be to manipulate them, and that leads to the reason why some politicians and maybe some sick people find keeping a dirty little secret useful.

Halloween

Its that time again, again!

So many people I've loved and lost and can't and never will stop loving.