JUNE

JUNE 1^ST 1999

Social workers Eva McKenzie and Pat Williams turned up.  “Here we go again,” I moaned.  I began to kick off as I usually do with these time wasters until I twigged that they weren’t being judgemental - they were actually considering the unthinkable.  They did not dismiss my spiritual and spiritualism beliefs and they did wonder if we had been subjected to some extraordinary power as they surveyed my kitchen with curiosity and studied the surprising one cm deep scorch mark that the kettle had caused on the sideboard et cetera.  I described the distinctive ‘V’ shape that the front of the washing powder box ended up in, which shows where the kettle was touching it.  I reasoned that if the fire had spread from curtains to powder box to kettle as is the suggestion, well, unless they are saying that Andrew somehow caused the kettle directly to ignite, the back of the box would’ve burnt – but it didn’t.  I asked if the experts are saying that the fire somehow jumped backwards from the curtains and skimmed only half the washing powder to partly destroy the kettle.  I pointed out the untouched food cupboard despite the half mangled kettle etc and that fire burns upwards.

It was then lovely to hear a bit of support when Eva butted in with, “Especially as washing powder is highly combustible.”  Then I said, “Either way, there is no proof that it was started deliberately and none of us should be blamed.  I find it astonishing that you people are even here.  There was a social worker with CID two days after the fire; surely that should be enough.  If she had ‘concerns’ why didn’t she raise them then?”  Eva felt that home-tuition is a good idea but that under the circumstances it might be an idea to put them back in school to “shut up criticism.”  I told her that that would be giving in and going against our beliefs and our rights and it wouldn’t be in Andrew’s and Shell’s best interests.  As I showed them the door, I surprised myself by apologising for the earlier hostilities.

AJ went off with his other mates and they all turned on Andrew.  They were calling him names and kicking him, so Andrew ran in all het up and shouting that he’ll never be pals with AJ again.

JUNE 2^ND 1999

AJ and his mates kept running into my yard, mocking and hounding Andrew and Shell for a scrap.  I heard Andrew chase them off.  Emma started on Shell soon after and before I knew it Andrew and Shell had darted in, and around twenty kids were milling about outside my house in my yard and on my gate.  They were all ganging up against my two, yelling and egging for a fight.  Some started lobbing stones at my windows.  I chased outside to shoo them off but they stood and chanted, “Ha ha; you can’t touch us – police are on our side.  You’ll be done for child abuse.”  I pulled Andrew and Shell away from the window and called police, but as usual the buggers had gone when police arrived.  I was reminded that I’m not allowed to hit a kid.  I enquired if I’m supposed to just allow a frenzied mob of youths to walk onto my property and beat the lights out of my kids.  One cop said that there would be an enquiry…. “What are you blabbing on about?”  I asked in utter incredulity.  “It’d be too late then.  I’m not going to let any scumbag touch my kids.  They’re not troublemakers, thieves, muggers, vandals…. that lot are.”  I yelled at him, saying that if the crowd of yobs aren’t dealt with now, they’ll be lying in wait for my kids and every time Andrew and Shell go out, even to the corner shop, it’ll be like walking into a pack of wolves for them.  But all he could do was reiterate the rule that, “You don’t threaten a child – it’s abuse.  You will be charged – not them.”  It’s a bloody scandal that I have to keep the kids inside now and away from the windows.  I figured that from now on I’ll just continually call cops and they’ll soon get fed up of me and then they’ll have to do something.

Later, one of the care workers in the home next door told me that she won’t allow her daughter to play outside, even in the grounds, because of the street violence.

JUNE 3^RD 1999

Six crows eyeballed the bread that my little feathered friends were tucking into, so I flapped a tea towel at them and the good birds were left in peace.

At church there was no ‘normal’ greeting from reptile-head, not even to the babies.  All he could snarl was, “You told me you’re not seeing anyone….”.  What?  I civilly replied, “What I do is not your business.”  Then he started ranting about me sending CID to see him.  So I said, “Well don’t blame me.”  Then he started blubbering about suing dad, so I just informed him that dad was simply trying to recoup the cash that “YOU OWE HIM.”

Lorraine and I nattered.  She was going on about the bible being one hundred percent true.  How the heck does anyone know that?  What if it isn’t?  Aren’t Christians open-minded enough to consider that possibility?

I went for a run and couldn’t help noticing a sign stating a one thousand pounds fine for dogfouling…. and eight blobs of dung directly under it!

Emma and her gang were flocking around again asking for trouble and demanding fights.  I heard Donna and others calling their kids in but after only two minutes, they were back out again and up to no good.  This was the pattern until I bowed to pressure from Andrew and Shell and decided to allow them to fight on a ‘one to one’.  I’d listened to their reasoning that they have to fight back otherwise they’ll always be picked on and I thought [against my better judgment] that if it was done in a controlled and supervised way [so that things didn’t get out of hand] it might just solve the problem and all the kids would clear off and find themselves something better to do. 

Emma challenged Andrew since she is just a few months older than him.  It was hard to tell who ‘won’ as it was so evenly contested.  But Emma eventually ran off in tears with her supporters.  Then the nine year olds slogged it out. Everyone agreed that Shell was the clear winner as AJ also ran off sobbing.  Nobody had any cuts or bruises [thank God] but they all appeared chastened.  I naively thought that they’d now be ‘sorted’ and that the others would realise that Andrew and Shell are not pushovers, but Donna had other ideas.  She appeared on my doorstep all up in arms.  I tried to explain that I thought it would stop all the talk about fights if they got it out of their system but that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea after all.  We ended up having a ding-dong and she booted my door and called the cops on us. 

I was threatened with being charged with “Section one….”.  One bobby said, “They’re streetwise – you’re not.”  So I asked, “Does that mean all the other kids are allowed to do what they please with your blessing, while my kids and I are seen as the criminals?  We are the victims.  Just cos you lot won’t/can’t do your job you get heavy with the easy targets – the quiet individuals who just want to be left alone.  What a cop out.”  He said that if her kids damage my property, I can call the council and they’ll make her homeless.  Typical; talk about passing the buck … A lot of these kids hang out in gangs because they’re scared of each other.  No one dares to stand up to the bullies because they’re scared that the gang will turn on them, and the parents are intimidated by the kids.  Individually those kids are timid and can barely eyeball anyone when they’re alone.  Cops bleat about us not living in an ideal world but it could easily become one if the law enforcement bodies DO THEIR JOBS, CUT OUT CORRUPTION AND ENSURE JUSTICE IS DONE.

JUNE 4^TH 1999

I stood at the kitchen window and watched Emma, the lad that I’d walloped off my wall, and a couple of other little sods sneaking slyly down the old folk’s drive; then they began pelting my windows with stones, bars, mud balls and rubbish.  A four year old then appeared in front of my window, grabbed my bin and tipped it over.  I duly called police who promised to have a word with the parents, but I won’t be holding my breath for any miracles – they’ve probably told their brats to come bothering us.

Late afternoon, I caught sight of the back end of a big lad as he boldly strode out of my back door, vaulted over my wall, trampled over next door’s seedlings and sped off.  Andrew gave chase with his toy gun and fired a few pellets at him.  I then realised that the friggin git had made off with my loose change that was on the table.  Now I have to keep windows and doors bolted. 

JUNE 5^TH 1999

I went with the kids to see their music teacher Alec to find out if lessons could be switched to a period during school hours because the kids are now too scared to walk through gang-ruled Colwyn Bay.  We chatted for ages.  He was very sympathetic and it seems has suffered the same sort of problems and he also had to bear similar injustices.  We transferred to a Wednesday morning and I was so happy when he offered to give the kids a lift in future.  People like Alec are a beacon of hope in this world of hatred and selfishness.

JUNE 6^TH 1999

I put my new washing machine to the test and brewed up with my new kettle and imagined how nice it’ll all look when the walls are decorated, the doors are finished, the floor is newly tiled…. I joked to Shell that if the fire had been caused by Satan, he must be feeling pretty cheesed off now since his aim to destroy us and our home seems to have somewhat backfired – he has, in fact, done us a favour.  Shell mocked, “He’s blushing.”

There was an alarming piece in the paper about Freemasonry in public life and in particular within the police.  Figures in the Ulster security services are protected by Masons.  Regarding serious malpractices of the West Midlands serious crimes squad, it was revealed that eight Masons belonged to the group.  Two of these faced allegations of corruption but were never charged or disciplined.  Eight Masons and a very high-ranking former Mason were involved in the Birmingham pub bombings investigation, which led to one of the worst miscarriages of justice seen in Britain.  Jack Straw suggests a voluntary register as a means of identifying Masons in the police.  What clap trap.  That’s proof if it were needed that the government are ruled by the underworld.

JUNE 8^TH 1999

Dreaded court day today.  My solicitor pushed me into giving the slug-head more concessions, as it is supposedly “always a good idea to be seen by the court to be offering something.”  I had a gut feeling that I was playing this ‘game’ the wrong way and that I might be better off representing myself and sticking to my guns of saying “no” all the way.  The way things are going, it all might rebound – I’d get no sympathy because I’d ‘agreed’ and my detestable ex would probably get the babies for at least half the week, if not full residence.  I learned that Mr Two-face has got a good character reference under his belt from one of the church leaders – John Dowell no less.  I knew it!  That smarmy git knows exactly what he’s doing and everyone gets taken in by him.  I wonder how the likes of John would feel if one day his daughter dates a guy like Gareth.  He’d soon be begging the likes of me for my testimonial.  I was forced to give that b…. Parental Responsibility, which lawyers try to tell you means nothing.  But it darned well does.  Now he has a big say in the kids education and he is making it clear to all and sundry that he opposes home tuition – well he sodding would, wouldn’t he?  He’s promised to do anything to thwart my future plans.  He doesn’t give a dickie bird for the babies – it’s me he’s interested in and the amount of suffering he can cause me.  It also means that he now has a say in their medical needs and I know for a fact that he’ll look for any opportunity to cause trouble in that department.  Oh and I’m also not allowed to go abroad for more than a month without that toad’s permission.

JUNE 9^TH 1999

Melissa is a big one year old.  Dad popped in with a cuddly for her then we spent some lazy time in the park – it was a glorious day.  Later we indulged in our usual ‘treats’ and the kids helped Melly blow out her candle.

At about 8.00 pm, the crowd of numbskulls were gathering again on my walls, on my gate and in my yard, and they began to chuck rocks and anything else they could get their grubby little paws on, at my living room window.  Andrew and Shell had been inside all evening.  I dialled 999 and told the officer that they’d better get themselves over here quick or they’ll have a murder on their hands.  After about the third call and over an hour later the fuzz eventually showed up.  Some louts were caught in the act but all the police did was ask them nicely to stay away from my house.  The little thugs just ran off grinning and jeering that they’d be back later.  Well, they would, wouldn’t they?  The police force is a laughing stock and a license for the sadistic enjoyment for today’s youth.  During the rumpus Andrew and Shell had the nous to take some photos of the assailants.  Maybe the local rag will name and shame these well-known rascals. 

There is a lot to be said for the bringing back of corporal punishment.  Wouldn’t it be brill if we had laws that permit the public humiliation of people [kids and adults] if there is clear evidence that someone has committed a crime.  It would save the taxpayer from the expense of flawed and lengthy court hearings and prisons and it would stop the scandalous lining of pockets of fat cat judiciaries.  People could then see real justice being done and the guilty wouldn’t be in such a hurry to re-offend.  A public hiding would work wonders.  If Joe Public played detective and put his camcorder to better use than You’ve been framed, he could catch plenty of crooks in the act.  Those silly, ineffective CCTV cameras would soon be obsolete and the sooner the better because right now they are used selectively and are open to abuse.  You can bet your bottom dollar that if there was the possibility of officials or wealthy businessmen or ‘underworld’ characters being caught on CCTV doing wrong, the camera in question would be: not working or not providing a clear enough picture or pointing the wrong way!  CCTV is not used for tackling crime.  It is just another tool to be used against the underclass when it suits the authorities and to bring revenue in to government coffers.  If our authorities were trustworthy, Joe Public would feel confident that CCTV is money well spent and that they significantly help in catching criminals.  Since this is not the case, we need civilian detectives. 

The ‘ordinary’ person in the street could take photos of criminals red-handed and send them to the newspapers – it wouldn’t be long before identities were known and appropriate physical punishment could be administered immediately.  The ridiculous re-offending lark where cons get eighty odd convictions et cetera is a farce.  The public are fed up of it.  We have a God given right to walk this Earth safely.  We live in a so-called democracy and therefore we supposedly elect politicians to manage our money, make our laws and enforce them.  They should get on with it and if they’re too spineless, incompetent or corrupt they should get out, stop claiming their fat salaries, go on income support and give the job to someone who will do it effectively.  All our existing politicos want is our votes and our adulation.  Well they can go to hell.  The expensive and wasteful bureaucracy of our present so-called justice system is criminal and is wide open for abuse.  Revolutionary change is needed and we ‘ordinary’ mortals have to force it.  The police boast that recorded crime is down!!! If all of us poor victims constantly hound them, they’ll soon find their figures rising and big changes will have to happen.  Furthermore, the police hierarchy should be jailed for corruption, perverting justice, professional misconduct and fraud.  So too should guilty politicians, judges, magistrates, council and social services bigwigs….

JUNE 10^TH 1999

There was a touching scene at breccy.  Mel dropped her beaker and began to cry.  Jordan rushed to her aid, handed her the cup, stroked her hand and said, “Ok?”  She then grabbed hold of her toes and he exclaimed, “Ah baby.”  Then he kissed her on the forehead.  Typical little charmer – just like all males!

As I sipped at my cuppa it occurred to me that I haven’t heard anything from the LEA about their home-education inspection in April.  I thought it would’ve been polite to acknowledge in writing that everything was at least ‘satisfactory’.  I suppose no news is good news though.  But you can bet your life that if there were any ‘concerns’, I’d have been pestered mercilessly by the ‘experts’ by now.

This morning I ran four miles.  The first one took me eight minutes, the second took ten minutes, the third took eleven minutes and the fourth twelve minutes.  As I basked in the blazing sunshine and sipped at my orange, I was stunned to read some writing on the wall, which said, “Andrew and Sharon will win and Shell also.  Ha ha.”  What a wonderful boost.

Eva popped in to tell me that that I’m invited to have my say at a child protection conference where a team will decide if any action needs to be taken regarding the safety of my children as they have decided that the fire was maliciously started.  My world was turned upside down.  I began to babble, “Just because a lousy fireman called Brian betrayed me…. I could’ve lied about the pans of water.  I could’ve said they were a scientific experiment.  I could’ve made up a story about the tapers – that I’m a smoker and too idle to clean up.  I could’ve said my diary notes were complete fiction – just ideas for a book.   I should’ve agreed with those clowns that the kettle was on, that it caused the fire, that it was an accident - end of story.  But I didn’t because what we experienced was unnerving and literally out of this world and although people should know about the existence and power of spirits, I can see now that some are not ready for such awareness.  And in any case I couldn’t lie; I had to tell the truth.” 

I wailed, “But it is being used against me.  This is all somehow working out for Gareth – just the way he planned it.  I’m fighting a bitter court battle with him and now all this is just the ammo he needs.  I’m sure that if there hadn’t been all those vicious unfounded allegations against me and the over-reactive doctor’s incorrect prognosis, there wouldn’t be a ludicrous ‘conference’.  Even my job with children may now be jeopardised.  Anyway, as far as they’re concerned, the ‘devil-talk’ shouldn’t come into it – it’s a personal experience.  The point is they can’t prove any of us started that fire – deliberately or not.  So we shouldn’t be accused.  It is an unexplained fire.”  Eva was very sympathetic and supportive and agreed that if we’d just had the fire, there almost certainly would not be a conference to decide if my children need to be placed under the care of the Child Protection Authorities.  My head was buzzing with confusion, outrage and utter disbelief that they can go this far.  Eva tried to reassure me that the worst outcome of conference would be that my children are registered ‘at risk’ but she was pretty confident that it wouldn’t come to that.  I felt dazed and sick just thinking about the looming nightmare meeting. 

Glassy-eyed, I smiled when Eva said she was a lateral thinker and that she believes that we did experience something from the higher realms.  She agreed with my observations that it’s always the innocents that get hounded and persecuted and that the bad guys are left in peace.  I told her about the illegal activities Gareth gets away with and the clout he has over the police - I informed her of his good character ref, his son being let off criminal damage, and the fact that he is known by police as being a wife/child batterer, yet no action is taken and he gets awarded custody whilst his wife is denied all contact with her children [whom she loves to bits] by the authorities and court.  I mentioned all the referrals [from senior school teachers and the Dolgellau locals] concerning social services, the EWO and GW’s older kids - and the authorities’ inaction.   I told her about the neighbourhood louts, the dangerous dog and the fact that authorities turn a blind eye.  I mentioned the appalling police threat that I’d be bound over to keep the peace and the suspicious circumstances surrounding the CCTV incident in March.  I informed her that the officials are right when they express concern that my kids are at risk.  They are – from arrogant bureaucrats, mad dogs, out of control juveniles….

Late afternoon the little lad that I walloped off my wall, and his pint-sized pals turned up again slinging stones at our window; so Andrew darted out and thumped him.  He screamed and slithered off to get an adult [any would do], who dutifully obeyed the nine-year old troublemaker and came banging on my door demanding to see me.  Andrew yelled back through the letterbox at the stupid bloke on the other side, “Mum doesn’t want to speak to you – she doesn’t talk to strangers.”  The bloke stormed off swearing blue murder.

After a couple of hours, the same lad and about twenty other little brain-deads were back.  One slashed my TV aerial, others emptied my bins and pelted rubbish at my windows.  Some of it missed and hit the neighbours’ cars and windows.  They were egging each other on, laughing and brandishing various weapons – knives, bars, catapults, bows and arrows…. After four emergency calls to cops, they eventually showed up well over an hour later at which point the people next door scooted out and screamed at me with such rage saying that I should handle it myself and that Andrew is to blame, that he’s so naughty he’s been expelled from school…. I walked away from them – there’s no point trying to talk sense to folk who refuse to let go of tradition and consider alternatives.  Most people are so scared of being different and most only feel comfortable when they are behaving like ostriches.  Police moved the crowd on – for now.  But the problem has not been dealt with – none of them were even ticked off!  Police waste time and money pretending to do their jobs.  One cop even admitted that they just want an easy life.

JUNE 11^TH 1999

I bumped into my cousin Carolyn down town.  She’s got problem neighbours too.  One spiteful menace now slashes her tyres and allows his dog to contaminate her pathway just because she politely asked him to take responsibility for his hound.  We discussed the problem of kids who don’t know right from wrong and the parents who are too drunk or drugged to care what their offspring get up to.  We talked about the boundaries that kids cross just because they are in gangs and feel pressured to impress and be the most daring.  We decided that society condones anti-social behaviour. Society allows police officers to be beaten up and killed.  We concluded that the government, police chiefs and justices will be at the top of Mr and Mrs Law-abider’s hit lists as widespread anarchy breaks out which will be a certainty if the current trend continues and those guilty people at the top don’t change their ways.

A really helpful guy in a DIY shop demonstrated how to fix my tap after it had come off in my hand! I even managed to do a bit of plumbing under the kitchen sink when the pipe spouted a leak.  It’s wonderful when that little voice that says “eureka” pops into your head!

As I walked down my road, a mother ran out to rescue her kids, yelling, “Is she threatening you again?  Keep away from her – she’s a nutter.” 

Everyone refers to Jonathon Aitken as the disgraced minister and the lag but he is one of the fortunate ones who has found God.  He admits that he used to call himself a Christian but that it was just external show and that nothing in his heart was Christian-like.  Those in high places who sneer at him now should take a look at themselves and ask themselves just how saintly their own behaviour is.  Ok, they may not have lied on oath but ALL high flying politicos lie incessantly to the public for their own self-gain which is a huge sin and in my opinion also deserving of prison.  God will judge them.

Around 9.00 pm a gang played footie right outside my gate.  Their ball twice thudded against my window and they continually and cockily strolled into my yard whenever they pleased.  So I confiscated it.  You should’ve seen their faces and heard their pathetic bleats of protest.  A police officer ordered me to give them their ball back.  I was numb with shock and disgust.  “Aren’t you going to reprimand them?”  I gasped.  He said he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of a row at the moment – he’d do it later.  ‘Fat chance,’ I thought.  Then he sternly reminded me that I’m not allowed to steal their things!  I informed him that those kids have broken Andrew’s belongings and that police are making themselves look quite ridiculous appeasing the nuisances.  I told him to just take a look at the nauseating glint of victory in their eyes.  Carry on ruling kids….

JUNE 12^TH 1999

It’s official!  Ninety per cent of people live in fear of crime, a disturbing report shows.

My yard was full of crows.  I was somehow drawn to watching them and I shuddered as I looked into their eyes and felt a powerful negative force.  It was as if I was being warned of some impending doom.  Images of horror films overwhelmed me such as The Omen and I began philosophising that all good stories come from someone’s experiences or dreams and that some dreams are highly prophetic.  I worryingly reasoned that, despite my earlier conviction of its purely fictional status, The Omen is probably not such a crazy idea after all but is in fact based on a sinister reality and that we are witnessing the increasing evil now and Satan’s coming to power.

This afternoon I dropped my old school pal, Sue, a swift page.  She wrote at Easter, so it’s about time I got back to her.  Unfortunately my news is mainly doom and gloom.

After tea we endured another completely unprovoked attack.  Rocks came catapulting over, landing on my porch and shed roof and in my yard.  Andrew and Shell climbed on the shed to investigate and caught next-door’s kids with their weapons, in the act.  Andrew told them to pack it in, but was struck by stones.  In self-defence he and Shell hurled a couple back, then dived in.  But police were called on us, and a right mouthy, overbearing PC [939] turned up to intimidate and threaten Andrew.   Waving a finger at Andrew and looming menacingly over him, he boomed, “You and I will be going for a chat in the police station.  You’ll be going into care soon; I’m not coming to this house all the time.  You’ve been threatening kids with this dangerous stick – it’s even got a nail on the end of it.” 

Stunned and infuriated I interrupted him with, “Oh no; you get those streetwise delinquents in and have a chat with them – the ones who terrorise old folk and mug old ladies and vandalise property and steal handbags…. My two are ganged up on; GANGED UP ON, by that mob.  They’ve been kicked and punched and hit with sticks and stones and have had their bikes and toys nicked and their clothes torn.  The kids around here make such weapons and fire them AT MY TWO.  Andrew and Shelly have only fired back with toy guns; the same type that ALL the kids around here use.  Those yobs pick on all the good kids and on nice quiet residents.  Lin, up the road has frequently fled her home in fear and has suffered broken windows and the retirement home are forever banging on their windows trying to get rid of those pests.” 

He butted in, “Don’t you raise your voice to me; your kids are the problem; you need to learn to keep them in and control them.”  He kept telling me that this will all end in tears and that my kids will end up in ‘care’.  He said, “It’ll be the ‘at risk’ register next – you’ll see.”  I informed him that it was strange that my ex had warned me that the police have got it in for me and that this ‘at risk’ threat was a little familiar.  I said there is something sinister going on behind the scenes.  By now, Andrew was upset and in tears. 

The PC asked if I believe in an eye for an eye.  What kind of stupid question is that?  Is he insinuating that we should just lie down and let any bloody fool do whatever they please to us and our home?  I ordered him not to wave his stupid finger at me and I made him aware in no uncertain terms that he should be aiming his impressive zeal on the yobs that need it – the real troublemakers.  I also angrily enquired as to why he wasn’t picking on Shell, since he is determined to get at us and she too was on my shed roof trying to DEFEND OUR PROPERTY. 

I mocked the force, saying that it is a farce and that everyone knows they have no authority and are just a complete waste of time and public money.  I said, “You lot are a bunch of bent jokers.”  I pointed out that three and four year old mites play out on streets two or three blocks away at 10.00 pm at night and the police pass them during their patrols.  I told them that police should take those kids home earlier, give their parents a telling off and report it to social services.  I enquired as to why authorities allow such young kids to roam the streets especially late at night.  I also asked him why the police were picking on us.

As he left he said, “Your kids will be taken off you – just you watch.  I’ll be reporting this to social services.”  I boomed back, “And I’ll be reporting YOU to your superiors.”  When he’d gone, Andrew and I hissed in harmony, “Bloody ba …...std.”  I wailed to the kids, “It’s not fair.  How come those kids can get away with near murder and we do nothing wrong, but get blamed?”  “Because we’re good and they’re bad,” answered Shell. 

Now I’m even more convinced of a murky conspiracy to have my children removed from me.  Police have definitely got it in for Andrew – they’re trying to frame him.  Why?  Do they consider him a threat?  Just cos he can see through their bullsh…. I know that some police officers [well quite a lot] are corrupt, but this is unreal.  Is the corruption systemic or just confined to a few barrels of rotten apples?  Does it pollute all forces?  I looked back on all the incidents, all the times that police should’ve prosecuted Gareth for harassment, yet despite everything, he wasn’t even arrested – not once.  I recalled the scandalous ‘bound over’ threat and the out of order police threat of the ‘at risk’ register during the CCTV incident.  I remembered the CID interrogation and the fact that Walshie blames Andrew for the fire.  I wouldn’t be surprised if it is CID who are calling for the conference.  I look back in incredulity at police attitude regarding the attacks by gangs and their failure to protect us and [worse] their accusations that we are to blame.  I’m beginning to wonder if police are bribing those little horrors into provoking us.  It is staggering that I’m threatened with child abuse charges.  And now this latest threat: ‘at risk’ register – kids in care – end in tears.  My mind was racing.  Ugly underworld want me and Andrew dead or destroyed.  Andrew sees gangs attacking us and nobody in authority doing a damned thing about it; he sees me challenge the thugs only to be reprimanded by the authorities; he sees the police allowing other kids to commit criminal activity yet when he fights back in the name of justice, he is reprehended and told that he’ll be taken away from his mother and his home. 

I try to guide the kids by telling them not to be violent like all the thugs, but then I also believe strongly in justice and Andrew knows that you have to give idiots ‘what for’ back.  That’s fair and will stop evil controlling.  But bureaucrats tell us not to engage in “eye for eye” tactics.  No wonder so many adults and kids are traumatised, confused and mentally ill.  Emma receives official mixed messages – on the one hand she is forced by social workers to attend ‘anger control’ counselling and on the other she is effectively encouraged by police to continue misbehaving, since they refuse to correct her and her friends.  We low-life are abused by authorities and told to lump it.  Many parents and children give up the fight for justice and turn to the bottle and other props.  Can we sue the government for mental torment?  They win elections with ‘family values’ and ‘tackling crime’ campaigns but the truth is, they and top civil servants are the CRIMINALS and they encourage crime.  Kids turn to crime to survive because if they stay pure they are bullied mercilessly.  Even decent parents are giving up and letting their children befriend the baddies because there aren’t many good uns left – they’ve all been changed.  And so the rotten domino effect continues.  If the government stop the hypocrisy and fudge ups it’d be a start and there’d be hope for us all.  I wish I’d got that loudmouthed bully – PC 939 on tape.  I could’ve reported him to the Police Complaints Authority. No point now because he’ll only lie his head off and deny it.

JUNE 13^TH 1999

Over breccy, pud watched me with half open eyes; so I mimicked him.  Then he abruptly shut them; so I copied.  He then puckered up his face; so I mirrored him.  This entertainment went on for ages with no signs of him getting bored.  It’s amazing the concentration and stamina that tots possess during one to one games with a loved one.  Mel also got in on the act with her impressions.

I was just about to get my feet up on the sun lounger when I was bombarded by stones from all directions.  Some even came hurling over my roof and some came at me from over the home’s roof. I saw one lad [who wouldn’t have been much older than five] agilely climb down from a nearby roof, clutching a catapult; then he disappeared into some overgrowth.  It was a good job Jordan wasn’t playing outside.  Andrew and I got showered by missiles as we attempted to identify the culprits.  We were forced to retreat inside – me nursing a red nose and forehead and Andrew suffering a cut head and bruising.  As usual the police were useless but at least today’s bobbies didn’t have an attitude and said that this is a widespread problem in Colwyn Bay which cannot be dealt with.  Now I am unable to enjoy the sunshine on my own doorstep and I have to keep the kids locked up inside like jailbirds.  This is an atrocious state of affairs and we’re not the only casualties.  It’s getting to the stage where I have to watch my back now even during a short walk to the shops and that I’ll have to keep the babies’ pram rain cover on when we go out.

Around 10.00 pm we got a faint whiff of the stale smoke again in the hall – it was as if the unknown ugly creature was laughing at us and warning us that he intends to create more trouble and cause us grief.  Then again the ‘smell’ could’ve been quite ‘normal’ and harmless and it might’ve seeped in from outside when the door was opened.

JUNE 14^TH 1999

Dad and I sorrowfully reminisced that it was two years ago today when mum died.  Life is such a struggle that I’m ashamed to say that I sometimes half envy her [I didn’t tell dad that tho.]  It is only the kids that give life meaning, and me the strength and will to battle on.  We got on the subject of slime ball and his shotgun threats and I assured dad that I’m number one on his hit list but that he’d have to kill a heck of a lot of people if he wants to stop resistance.

This afternoon we all trooped off to the zoo.  It made a welcome change and gave us some respite from all the onslaughts and hostilities.  Three different schools were up there on trips and the kids couldn’t resist commenting that they’re glad that they’re not part of a school party.  Shell said it’s so much nicer to come and go as you please and sit and eat when you want [in peace] and not be herded from place to place like sheep within the restrictions of a rigid time-table.  I piped up that it is safer, more beneficial and more enjoyable this way for all of us and that some kids go missing on school outings and some kids even get horrifically raped or murdered when they go away.

JUNE 15^TH 1999

The kids and I walked into the bowels of the conference room and were greeted by a table full of devils.  I’d gone there thinking that they’d be reasonable and I hoped that I could trust them to make sensible decisions but it soon became apparent that no matter what common sense and truth I spoke, the bigoted bureaucrats were determined to wield a heavy stick and crush me.  The annihilation was led by Walshie.  The other puppets paled into insignificance and lamely voted in agreement with CID that all four of my children must be placed on the child protection ‘At Risk’ register – “for their own good” – because they are categorized under the “likelihood of Physical Harm.”  All of them supported this gross violation except for enlightened Eva and Pat who were astonished at such abruptness since a fire representative hadn’t bothered to grace us with his presence or a report filed in his absence and that an unidentified out of hours social worker [supposedly present on the night of the fire] hadn’t fronted up either or made available a statement.  In their wisdom, the Gods even felt it necessary that my children should not return home with me this evening and should be placed immediately in the ‘care’ of social services – until the Chair decided to check out the legalities with their solicitor and discovered that that was too drastic a step and that an urgent ‘Core Group’ be set up immediately to keep a beady eye on me. 

‘Spiteful’ is an understatement!  Who the hell do this lot think they are?  If this is the mentality of persons making important decisions, no wonder the country is in the gutters.  Walshie kicked off with his ‘concerns’ that although Andrew is a “very bright child,” he “sees demons,” urgently needs to see a psychiatrist and had started the fire maliciously.  He was worried that Andrew writes about corruption and evil and that he used words such as “bastard.”  He added that more importantly was the fact that I’d merely corrected his spelling of the word “bastard” rather than the use of it and he inferred that I was a negative influence over my children.  The toffee-nosed group had hollow expressions of horror painted on their faces, so I informed them that Andrew is merely being honest about what he sees in the world and that I challenge any of them to show me a child who doesn’t use the word “bastard” [well, one who lives around here anyway i.e. in the real world.]   I explained that I think it’s important that my children are aware of the not so congenial realities of life so that they are more prepared for life’s challenges and are able to stand their ground.  I glared at Walshie and said, “It is improper of you to incriminate a harmless innocent child on the strength of your biased opinion, since you have no proof that any of us started that fire.  I’d rather you accuse me than to put such a burden on Andrew’s shoulders.  If you had experienced the paranormal phenomena that we have been subject to and in fear of, you would want support and a little respect. You would not want high-handed narrow-minded officialdom, and you would be furious if you were accused of arson and of lying and of the inference that your psyche is abnormal.  We do not need and do not deserve any more hardship.  We’ve been frank about it all; we expect you to be more open-minded.”

Dr Groves put her tuppence ha’penny worth in and brought up Dr Macareth’s ‘burn’ blunder. Dr Groves babbled on about a mark on Melissa’s shoulder which was an “issue of some concern” to Dr Macareth and that since Dr Macareth was unhappy with my explanation of it being eczema it was suggested that Mel be taken to hospital for treatment.  I clarified the issue, saying that I was forced to take Melissa to hospital.  I also made it clear that the hospital paediatricians and three general practitioners were in no doubt that it was eczema and that she was treated for such.  I made the point that the above stated medics felt that there had been an over-reaction and that it hadn’t been necessary to call in social workers or send her to hospital.

I don’t know what came over me but I was so enraged at this stage at this high and mighty lot and their put downs and I was so convinced that they had it in for me, no matter what, that I heard myself saying, “Dr Macareth is incompetent and over-bearing; she should’ve thought twice about rushing us off to hospital and she should’ve got a second opinion before squealing to social services and causing us unnecessary hassle and stress.  You people don’t realise or don’t care how damaging all this is.  I’m fighting a very crafty ex-partner in court for residence of my two babies.  He is a genuine RISK to them because of his alcohol dependency and violent tempers.  My ex has battered his ex-wife, his son and my son and is known to police and social services as a violent and abusive man.  Referrals came from professional sources as well as from worried locals, yet amazingly he was awarded custody of his children and his ex-wife was denied all contact. 

There is something very shady and secret going on here.  HE is protected by the authorities, whilst I am being victimised.  There seems to be a conspiracy to displace my children, and my vindictive and malicious ex partner is getting all the help he needs from men in high places who are themselves protected by a wall of silence.  This happened to Gareth’s ex wife too.”

The others put in their two bob’s worth and astonishingly even all the past malicious allegations from Mr ‘Anonymous’ himself were brought up - to be used against me.  I was livid and told them that it was about time they concentrated their ‘grave concerns’ where is it required and that they started pursuing real problem families and evildoers, and leaving the innocent easy prey alone.  I asked when they intended to start supporting the victims and when they intended to start wielding their heavy stick against the bullet shooters.  They repeatedly bleated on about being interested in the “safety and protection” of my children.  I boomed, “Look, you lot may be hypocrites and liars, but I’m not.  Let’s get this straight.  The only person protecting and caring for my kids is ME.  You people want to put my kids in your so-called ‘care’ where abuse is ripe and where your type look the other way and are never brought to book   Many children are bullied relentlessly at school and at home, yet the likes of you don’t give a fig.  Some kids are driven to such despair that they commit suicide.  That’s manslaughter and your sort should be held accountable.  You lot don’t care. You are self-righteous and self-serving.  This is not democracy.  I’ll tell you something else too.  I’ll tell you what malicious is – a doctor who calls in social services because she is incapable of recognising eczema and you people registering my children without due cause and causing me to lose my childminding job and of caring for disadvantaged children and maybe even of causing me to lose custody of my babies to a very dangerous man.  This is NOT about the safety and well being of my children; it is all about pig-headed control.  This conference is a kangaroo court-like event.  It is nothing more than pure and simple SPITE.  Explain that to the people who pay your wages.”

It was quite out of character for me to erupt and boil over in this way, but something seemed to be speaking through me and I was incensed at such arrogance and with the threat of losing my children. These dummies came out with such trivia that I found myself raising my eyes to the heavens; then holding my head in my hands.  Some smart Alec [I think it was the Chair - Seale] suggested as a precautionary measure that I keep all lighters, matches etc on “Mrs Kilby’s person.”  Yeah right, I’d probably be charged with carrying an offensive weapon!  I asked the morons if they’d never noticed all the lighters that lie abandoned in gutters and that any kid could easily start a fire if he so wished, even without the use of such tools.  Their worships conclude that my kids should be registered ‘at risk’ but they admitted not knowing from what exactly.  I assured them that they were not at risk from me and that a fire can happen to anyone.  Now they insist on a very urgent core group to look at ways of offering us “protection and support.”  I remarked that social services and a bunch of ‘child welfare experts’ are not the people who can help us.  The Chair, rather patronizingly, tried to convince me that this wouldn’t jeopardise my work with other children; but even I know that those are weasel words.  I asked him to sign a statement to that effect.  He wouldn’t.

As we were preparing to leave, everyone commented on how patient and well behaved all my kids are and that they’d never seen anything like it.  So Andrew enquired, “Then why are we all being registered?”  Dr Groves even had the neck to try and befriend Melly by smiling at her and offering her a doll to play with – yet minutes earlier, she was doing her utmost to cause me problems, get my kids taken off me and into the hands of someone who would not care one jot about them and may even hurt them.  Even Mel [only twelve months old] instinctively saw right through her façade, frowned, pushed the doll back at her and looked away.  Melly had probably picked up on my distress and had realised that these strangers were the cause.  Also, babies and children know what is inside a person’s heart. 

After that taxing hour and a bit I was so shocked and in a state of disbelief and confusion that I had to ask Eva if the kids were actually registered now.  She must’ve felt the same way because she had to double check with the Chair.  She tried to loosen me up a bit and explained that they’re just erring on caution because, due to past mistakes, they daren’t take chances.  I protested that it’s alright them watching their backs, I too have a duty and the desire to protect my kids from that interfering closed-minded smug bunch.  I told her that those piranhas will send Andrew mad and in need of a psychiatrist with all their talk of core groups, social workers, psychiatrists, conferences…. I said it is a scandal and a violation of rights and that if they are so sure that Andrew is guilty, why aren’t police prosecuting?  I told her that I believe CID fixed all this and that the police were going to get my kids registered come what may.  I said that Walshie was too quick with his hand up when everyone was asked for a decision and that he was the most insistent that all four of my kids be declared ‘at risk’.  I remarked that I’d seen all this coming, that the police had told me that they’ve got it in for me…. At least Eva spoke some truth when she remarked that psychiatrists are “more loopy than anyone!”  She also felt that being unconventional had put the ‘experts’ on their guard.

As soon as we got out of that place of hell, the kids told me that if anyone tried to take them away, they’d hold on to me and wouldn’t let go and they’d scream and cry, kick and spit on any social worker who came near them.  I told them that NO ONE is going to break us up and woe betide anyone who tries.

All I could think of on the way home was that those barstewards had effectively signed my babies over to the control of their alcoholic and abusive father.  The writing was on the wall.  I’d seen it all coming three or four months ago.  My ill willed ex has got exactly what he wanted and has achieved it with the full support and compliance of civil service bigwigs.  I’ll be crucified in court now over this.

I immediately phoned my solicitor, but John Owens told me that they’re not doing anything illegal and that we have nothing to challenge them on.  He agreed that it was all a bit heavy handed but that they can’t afford to take chances because of past failures.  He said that assuming they find no snags during the so-called Comprehensive Risk Assessment and they find nothing wrong with our brains, then “more power to your elbow.”  I wasn’t convinced and I sobbed my heart out all night.  My nightmares are coming true.  There’s a strong chance that I could lose all of my babies - yet all I did was tell the truth.  How in God’s name can this be happening?  What the hell did we do to deserve all this? 

JUNE 16^TH 1999

Still reeling from the ludicrous ‘at risk’ label I contacted the fire department to discuss their findings. I was hoping that they’d tell conference that there is no evidence of the fire being set deliberately.  But they say that the fire is suspicious, although they’re not pointing fingers.  I asked if someone would take another look at my kitchen to reconsider their view that the fire started in the curtains and somehow skimmed only part of the soap powder box to partly destroy the kettle.  I pointed out that it is strange that the cupboard above the box was totally unaffected despite the fact that fire burns upwards and ours was burning for over twenty minutes.  I informed them that the kettle was initially blamed but because I’d said that I was so sure that it was off, they looked elsewhere for a source.  I also said that I’ve since contacted an electrician who states that a fire can start in a kettle or other electrical appliance if there is a fault in it or in the socket wiring, even if it is turned off.  I described the bizarre ‘V’ shape on the front of the box where the kettle had touched it but that the back of the box had not burned.  I also said that the firemen had thought that the washing machine could have been the cause.  But their attitude is that they’ve done a report and that’s final.

I then remarked that you cannot accuse someone of arson simply by subjective opinion without any concrete proof - that it wouldn’t stand up in a court of law.  The fire official slapped me down with, “You’d better have a good lawyer.”  The bully then bluntly informed that no matter how many calls I make to them, their findings and report would not change. 

I also phoned the Chair, Graham Seale, to invite him to see for himself the uncanny circumstances surrounding the fire but was gob smacked when he told me that even if he did secretly agree with me, he has to remain neutral in conference.  I asked him to forget council rules for a moment and to take off his ‘Child Protection Co-ordinator’s’ hat and consider the unthinkable – that a fire could start spontaneously by unnatural means and that if this was confirmed by the aftermath photos or by someone else’s observations then the implications would be far-reaching and too powerful for any human to comprehend and control.  But he wasn’t interested.  He was happy with the opinion of the ‘experts’ and that was that.  Well, they’ll have a bloody shock when unrest and fighting breaks out around them and they find their offices wrecked and their houses and cars burning; and crazy weather patterns creating death and destruction and when the world suddenly comes to an abrupt end because of doomsday in the not-too-distant future.

This evening my much-welcomed visit by a holy man took place.  It was so reassuring to learn that we’re not alone and that the Reverend Robert Rowland has two large books full of people’s varying spiritual experiences, which are comparable to ours.  He even told me about some of his own experiences such as bad smells…. and perfume smells after his mum died and also the presence of his fellow priest after his death.  Much to my amazement he even informed me that he has heard about spontaneous combustion and he said that he will dig out some literature for me.  He agreed that conference members were being rather judgemental and presumptuous and that they shouldn’t underestimate the power of God and the church.  He did an exorcism on the whole house and even he felt a distinct change for the better afterwards.  He told me that he’d felt a “bad force” when he’d entered the house earlier.  As we stood at the door I said, “Nobody has the authority to question the existence or strength of spirit forces and the government and civil servants had better grasp that fact pronto.  They like to think they’re Gods but they are the Earth’s Hell’s Angels.  Our supreme deity is a formidable force which won’t be silenced and which will win.”

JUNE 17^TH 1999

At church I chatted a short while with Lorraine about our transcendental encounters and street thugs and she prayed for us, asking for Jesus’ protection.  We discussed the deterioration of our town and the increase of hatred amongst people.  She believes that if we have God one hundred percent in our hearts then we have all the protection we need and that God does not ask for more.  She discouraged me from carrying a stick when I run, saying that it breeds violence and is not the way.  But when I asked if it was ok to do nothing while an old lady nearby is suffering an attack by a handbag mugger, she said that you have to leave it to the police.  I told her that the police leave it to us and that anyway they respond too slowly [if at all], are powerless to act effectively and many are corrupt.  Criminals are caught in the act by Joe Public and are witnessed by Joe Public and it is Joe Public who dishes out the punishment. You might as well make the entire police force redundant – they are a complete drain on the economy.  I told her that it was our duty to challenge wickedness because all it takes for evil to flourish is for good people to do nothing.  I so admire people who battle for years [a lifetime, even] to get justice.  It takes guts and stamina.  Not only are they fighting on behalf of their loved ones but they are doing society a favour too.  

Schizophrenic-head was in sickly-sweet mood today.  I played along with the charade; it won’t last long and I prefer this than the constant sharpening of knives.  The only way I could keep him like this would be to let him think we might get back together.  But I’m too honest for that and no good at games [maybe that’s where I go wrong] and I know that underneath it all he’s going for the jugular.  I’ll try to be nice to him for as long as possible but I’ll never trust him – not on any level.  Come to think of it, there are very few people who I do trust.

That damned schizo dog came down our road again, creating chaos.  Cops picked it up but no doubt its irresponsible owners will demand its release and, of course, their wishes will be met and to hell with whoever gets bitten next.

Andrew gave the downstairs loo a lick of paint.  It looks much brighter now.

JUNE 18^TH 1999

As I stood at the sink washing up, stones came flying in.  One narrowly missed Melly in her highchair and caught pud on his head and another clipped Andrew.  I struggled to slam the window shut and more stones appeared from all directions, like hailstones.  It was terrifying.  We’re not even safe indoors now!  “Ooooh, what I would love to do to those nasty little louts if I could get hold of them – and get away with it,” I seethed.  A WPC turned up.  Fair play, she had some spunk and insisted that this can’t go on and that there will have to be more patrolling of this area to root out gang members from their hiding holes.  Tough words, but will she deliver?

Patrick O’Flynn brought a smile to my face when I read his column in the express titled “Delivering support for hard-bitten posties.”  Postie Billy Ace was nipped by terrier Ria while on duty, so in retaliation he booted it one but it landed on its head and died.  Now the nation is up in arms in defence of the poor dog and heartbroken six-year old owner.  BUT O’Flynn writes, “Oh happy day when a private member’s bill goes through parliament to hold dog owners directly responsible for the injuries caused by their pets.  It would ensure that if your dog defecates in the street, the law charges you with gross indecency and if your dog mauls a postman, you get charged with GBH.”  He says that with such laws our posties wouldn’t need to “Give our canine compatriots a boot up the Ria.”   Here here.  Enforcing it, however, would be another matter.

At midnight, a rock came hurtling at the playroom window and smashed the outer pane to smithereens.  Andrew had been getting a drink and had seen a lad leg it.  It was a huge noise and the kids and I stood shaking in fear, wondering what was going to happen next and if anyone was going to break in.  Then I got a grip and grabbed a bar ‘just in case’.  Police showed up and I was promised surveillance on this road.  That’s just an impressive but vague word for “We’ll let you think we’re going to do something to tackle crime, but the truth is we’ve got no intentions of doing anything of the sort.”  At 3.30 am I was still up, supping my tenth cuppa, nibbling at a cheese cracker and trying to work out how to solve this problem.  I wondered if I should just board up the window and have done with it.  Whatever nasty little sod did it must know that we all sleep in the playroom.  Maybe psycho-features is bribing kids to torture us.

I checked the sleeping babies.  Mel was a picture, in deep slumber, with her legs and one arm in the air!  It’s amazing the positions that babies can actually manage to sleep quite soundly in.

JUNE 20^TH 1999

Andrew is eleven today.  He got a sports gun that shoots pellet and darts, so we spent about an hour trying to beat each other in target practice – it was pretty level pegging.  He’s under strict orders not to use it on any kids [although the idea is very tempting] but I’ve told him that if anyone breaks in the house he has my full permission to shoot.

This evening I watched a film based on America’s crime of the century where a baby was brutally murdered and an innocent man [Bruno Hauptmann] suffered a gross miscarriage of American justice.  He died in the electric chair.  Police were under pressure to convict someone – anyone.  The whole trial was a joke where police, the baby’s father Colonel Limberg and others lied and bribed witnesses.  After the shameful execution, the governor was not re-elected and another plotter ended up in a mental home.  Good.  All those other guilty people will suffer hell too.  Bad buggers will pay eventually.  Hauptmann showed amazing strength by refusing to confess to a crime he didn’t commit.  His wife also showed great stamina and determination to clear his name.  They said, “The book – it will never close.”  You can believe it.

Andrew and I have developed a little game lately.  I’ll sling a cushion at him when he least expects it but he’ll hurl it back with precision accuracy.  Fluffy toys end up flying between us, and this continues until I yell, “Come on, stop now – someone’s gonna get hurt – me.”

JUNE 21^ST 1999

We all had a day out at Jeromino’s in Rhyl.  Jordy and Melly busied themselves amongst plastic balls and various inflatables, while Andy and Shelly disappeared for over an hour amongst a labyrinth of near vertical slides, climbing frames, tunnels…. Later we munched on lunch at a nearby chippy.  Jordan cheekily pulled the bottle of orange out of my bag and shoved his beaker under my nose to fill it up.

I read about the amazing survival of Martin McGartland who was shot six times by the IRA for being an informer.  Paramilitary thugs of all sides simply laugh in the face of authority.  The issue is not who governs or whether there is a united Ireland but [as in all countries], of equality and fairness for all citizens, with government and police, judges etc being without reproach – trustworthy and scrupulous so that criminals get caught and punished.  The public don’t buy the guise ‘political motivation’.  Laws are there for everyone to obey, especially so-called VIPs and anyone else who thinks he/she is too important/wealthy/powerful to be immune.  Anarchy breaks out because rules are not enforced fairly for all. Those responsible for enforcing the law but who fail should be charged with gross professional misconduct. 

I reckon brave people like McGartland survive in order to do God’s work.  I think things happen in our lives for a reason.  God guides us and prepares us for the ultimate truth – the realisation of him and righteousness.  There are times in my life when I feel so defeated and as if I just can’t go on, but then I feel a jolt as if God is saying, “Have faith.”  And when I look back I realise I’ve never been asked to cope with anything beyond my endurance – it’s as if God knows my limits and doesn’t ask for the impossible.  Life is like a big jigsaw puzzle, gradually being pieced together.  My resolve to do God’s work strengthens daily and the more knocks I suffer, the more determined I am to fight evil.  Many people do good work but refuse to acknowledge the presence of God.  I believe that that’s ok and that God works through them without their knowledge.  They will know God when the time is right for them.  Sometimes when I’m feeling a little sorry for myself, I think of people who suffer real hardships – those who lose their home, who lose their family, who suffer disease and illness and dire poverty and who constantly live under the threat of attack…. Then I feel ashamed and I pull myself together.

I think Nick Leeson, who was imprisoned for his part in the Barings’ fraud, is also one of God’s survivors and is guided now to do God’s work.  Many fail the test, such as Leeson’s bosses who cowardly escaped punishment but who will suffer in the afterlife.  So many choose life’s easier path – Satan’s way.

Day one of Wimbledon.  Brilliant.  Two whole weeks of glorious tennis.  I don’t care who wins as long as the matches are close and the big names are on court. It makes me laugh though when an enthusiastic commentator makes comments such as, “He knows his way around a grass court.”  Sure hope he does as that level!

JUNE 22^ND 1999

Jordan followed me around like a little lamb.  I ran around with the hoover; he found his toy hoover and copied me.  I then pegged up some washing while he stood by my basket handing me the clothes.  Later I scrubbed the table and chairs down with Jif while Jordan made his contribution to the cleaning with his cloth.  Meanwhile Mel occupied herself nearby as she sat surrounded by pans.  Her movements are so precise, deliberate and unhurried.  She sits with straight back, straight legs and with arms moving as if she’s performing an Egyptian dance.  I ask her questions in tuneful rhythm and she goes, “Umm.”

The kids get glued to The Bill.  I reckon the gruesome bits should be shown explicitly so that everyone knows the realities and horrors of crime.  News coverage should also reveal the full extent of blood and gore so that people might just wake up and do something about the world’s atrocities.  Those who complain are probably those who inflict pain.

JUNE 23^RD 1999

First Core Group meeting [oh groan.]  I have new social workers now – Maureen and Debbie. The spiteful buggers wouldn’t even let me hang on to Eva.  Anne represents Health and Noella is the chief social worker on behalf of Education.  Maureen filled in her questionnaire and asked how I can help speed up the ‘assessments’ with an aim to removing my kids from the Register.  I asked what she wanted to hear and was told that I should co-operate.  So I told her to “write that down then.”  I was under the impression that this impressive little group were going to offer practical suggestions and guidance on how to become a better parent and how to reduce the risk that they say I am to my children.  But something tells me that these people are just going to bug me with never-ending visits and useless gossip.  Noella’s input was that Dafydd Thomas was more than happy with Andrew’s and Shell’s education [thank God], so that makes her effectively redundant.  If the education experts don’t have a problem with Andy’s stories and didn’t think my kids odd and in need of a psychiatrist, that’s one in the eye for Walshie and his conference cronies.  The health visitor said she’ll be doing her usual ‘development’ tests.  I don’t like this uninvited interference in children’s abilities, especially in babies and toddlers.  I think it is unnecessary, an intrusion and a waste of time.  Anne tried to convince me that they have ‘specialists’ who know what to look for in kids who are ‘slow’ or have ‘behavioural’ problems.  Nonsense.  I reckon the ‘experts’ should be assessed.  Kids have ‘behavioural’ problems because of ‘experts’ – teachers, psychologists, social workers and the like.  A GP is qualified enough for me as regards my children’s well being – mentally or physically.  Kids are not performing seals.  Why do the ‘experts’ expect them to be?  They ‘play up’ or don’t ‘perform’ quite understandably due to boredom or dislike of the adult ‘monitoring’ them; often because the professional dictates to them or talks down to them or at them and does not afford them due respect or does not listen to them.

What a wonderful letter the Rev Emyr Owen wrote in the local rag entitled ‘Fight the Right Fight’.  He writes that Gareth Jones, the new Conwy Welsh Assembly member expressed his views that the British National Party caused distress to the families of the six murdered children by printing their photos in their pamphlet regarding their policy on law and order, without the parents’ permission.  The good Rev makes the point that the offending factor is not the BNP but the perverted monsters who were and still are responsible for slaughtering the innocent, raping the harmless and torturing the meek.  The Rev made the most important point that with our total breakdown of law and order, permission to print disturbing pictures is insignificant in light of a political victory when we achieve the dream of millions by removing from office spineless politicians who fight for the right of degenerates and not the victims.

Jordan was quite resourceful today.  I’d left soap and shampoo on the stairs for whoever goes up next to put away.  It was me and Jordan.  I opened the gate and he just matter-of-factly and without any prompting picked up the items and delivered them straight into the bathroom.

As I was doing my nightly round of checks before bed, I nearly died.  I was pottering about barefoot in the darkened hallway when I trod on something big and slimy, which squelched under my foot.  I hopped over to the light switch and discovered a mangled…. Slug.

JUNED 24^TH 1999

At church Mr Sickly-sweet had the audacity to ask me and the kids for a day out with him somewhere, so I sweetly told him where he could shove his invitation.  He then began to blab on about wanting Jordan and Mel to go to school when they’re older, so I enthusiastically informed him of the favourable comments thus far re Andrew’s and Shell’s Home Education, but [and predictably] he wasn’t interested.

At the end of the contact session, as I collected the kiddies, Gareth bent down to kiss Jordan but he raced towards me with his arms stretched up and going, “Muuuuuuuummmmmmm.”  I hugged him, he relaxed, nestled his head into my chest and tapped his hands against the back of my neck.

We now have to endure the spectacle of Cook, Shea, Blair, Clinton…. gracing the world stage, smugly declaring victory.  Rubbish.  Kosovo is alight with terror – for Serbs and Albanians.  Our so-called ‘heroes’ can use all the propaganda they please – but the people aren’t fooled and it’s about time politicians took note.  A brave soldier is more of a man than any government pretender.  But the sooner these brave men quit the army, the better.  In some countries there is conscript, but some men choose jail rather than military service, on ‘moral’ grounds.  Quite right too.

Mel is so supple she never ceases to amaze me.  With straight legs she lies on her back sucking her toes.

Jord would not settle at bedtime.  So I sat on his bed, cuddled him close, rocked and sang him a lullaby.  He fought with all his might to stay awake but his eyelids got too heavy for him.

Why is it that when I walk into the bathroom at night time and the light is already on, and I can see that it is ON, I turn it OFF?  It only happens in that room!

My heart goes out to foster parents Jeff and Jenny Bramley and their two little girls Jade and Hannah.  They’ve had such a battle with social services and it was an absolute disgrace that they were forced to flee when all they wanted to do was care for and love their children.  Social services could only air ‘vague concerns’ about the Bramley’s parenting skills and they decided that “it was not going to be in the children’s interests” if they all stayed together.  Shame on you social services.  Liz Railton, the director, should resign her position.  The authorities should be held accountable for the appalling suffering they caused these model parents.  Social services elsewhere, pay attention too. There are children living in dreadful circumstances, exposed to all sorts of evils.  Many New Age travellers’ and Glastenbury revellers’ kids could hardly be described as living in acceptable circumstances where the “needs and protection” of the children are of priority consideration.  The truth is social workers daren’t take on such groups – there’s too many of them, and they won’t interfere with individual ‘problem’ families either because of the fear of retribution.

JUNE 25^TH 1999

I greeted Mel this morning and found her sitting in her cot just studying her hands.  It was as if she was trying to work out what their purpose was.

One cheeky mother at the top of our road told Andrew to stay in his “half” of the road but he turned around and said that he has every right to use all of this road and that she should concentrate on her own kids; keeping them under control and off our drive.

At teatime, the hooligans [about thirty of them] came circling my house, lobbing stones at all of my windows.  Soured milk was splattered on my front door and yard.  So much for ‘surveillance and patrols!’  Cops turned up after one and a half hours to tell me that there’s nothing they can do and that they’re so short-staffed with only two of them to cover Colwyn Bay, Llandudno, Mochdre, Old Colwyn, Llysfaen…. They were pleased to tell me that this isn’t a problem area and that in the bad places, folk board up windows.  When I asked why they don’t get with their peers and put pressure on the chiefs for tougher measures to tackle crime, they laughed and said, “No one listens to us.”

At around 9.00 pm I walked outside and was hit in the face by stones.  It’s as if some little blighters were lying in wait – hiding in trees, hedges etc.

JUNE 26^TH 1999

Andrew came up to me with the cooker lighter and said, “This is supposed to be hidden.”  So I replied, “Hide it then.”

Mel fixes her big eyes on me constantly.  As I potter about the kitchen I can ‘feel’ her studying me.  I turn to look at her periodically and she sits there beaming and clapping.  She’s so adorable.

JUNE 28^TH 1999

Flamin’ benefits agency are now demanding to see my utilities bills as part of their investigations.  I hope they’re doing as thorough a check up on the Prince of Deceit.  The way my luck’s going they’re determined to have me hung, drawn and quartered.  Better check this one out with John.

I love the special grins and knowing looks that Jordy and Melly and I share when we are in shops etc.  Mel catches my eye and laughs.  Jordan looks at me with a glint in his eye.

I saw a video nation about a four-year old boy who had moved to Ireland from England.  At school he was the only catholic.  He knew nothing of sectarianism, prejudice, religion and politics, yet he was targeted and bullied relentlessly, even by teachers.  His message is, “I’m not catholic, not Irish, not British, not White, not English…. I’m HUMAN.”

JUNE 29^TH 1999

I had to front up at death’s door again because the council are so worried about the “considerable risk” that my children are exposed to.  They had immediately summoned all the experts together for an urgent conference to work out what should be done.  This time there were more devils sat around the table, including the honourable fire expert.  Their horns were sharp enough to draw blood and deadly enough to deflate the toughest of challenges to their dictatorial regime.  The council had decided that they needed their solicitor at their side too.  Strange that no one had told me that I was allowed one.  But there was one person missing – their elusive ‘out of hours’ social worker.  It turns out that she hadn’t paid us a very important visit on the night in question after all.  She must be so much in demand that she was needed elsewhere.

As conference progressed their horns grew longer and sharper.  The authority on fire was the first to cut a gaping wound.  In his eminent opinion the fire was caused deliberately by me, Andrew or Shelly which left us all in an “extremely dangerous situation.”  ‘Well, you’d be in danger if a fire started in your house, you fool,’ I thought to myself but I restrained myself from blurting it out.  He produced his photos, which shows that everything had been moved and I recalled that my photos were quite different.  I asked if I could have copies of theirs and was told to contact CID.  He was adamant that the fire was started – maliciously - in the curtains, and of course the ‘expert’s’ view carried a unanimous vote of support.  Their snotty cow of a solicitor then went for the jugular when she supremely declared that this case is very close to care proceedings.  She was perched so high on her pedestal that I’m sure that if I’d poker-facedly glared at her just a little bit harder, she would’ve toppled off. 

The patronizing predators asked me and Andrew about the “evils of the world” and why we don’t believe that there is anything good.  So I told them that evil rules, that it is getting bigger and more powerful and that the good people are being oppressed.  They all expressed their ‘concerns’ that my kids are picking up negative feelings from me and are suffering emotionally.  I told them they’d misconstrued my argument and I clarified that my children have good in their lives – me and their granddad, but that they are aware of the truth of mankind’s worldwide legacy of greed, power and hatred since they watch news bulletins and some documentaries.  Andrew brought up the gang violence and drug dealing on our street, which he explained is getting worse.  I used the example of Serb atrocities – gang rapes, violence and indiscriminate killings and of Irish Paramilitary thugs and that it is the underworld who rule.  But the way everyone looked at me - stunned and disbelieving with their mouths gaping - you’d swear their news stories consisted of oranges and lemons, puppy dogs tails and pretty maids all in a row. 

I said, “I find all this staggering. You people of such authority spend so much time and energy, using other people’s money, crushing the likes of me – a harmless, peace-loving, law-abiding individual.  Why is this when there are real dangers out there – people who belong to sophisticated private armies, who have stashes of guns and ammunition and who pose a very real threat to each and every one of us here.”  I was firing on all cylinders now.  “God bless the day when those of you who sit in judgement declare war on powerful CRIMINALS – gangsters, mafia, drug smugglers and dealers…. and on the corrupt men who protect these evil beings and not on respectable modest non offenders.  We had one small lousy unexplained fire, for heavens sakes, and there are twelve of you highly qualified, high ranking, highly paid professionals sat before me now debating my future and that of my four defenceless children.  You intend to do some fantastic ‘Comprehensive Risk Assessment’ on us which you say will take some months, you need to bring psychiatrists into the picture and there will be meeting after meeting after meeting…. For crying out loud, go and do some proper work.  Where on Earth do you think it is going to get us all at the end?  What do you hope to prove?”

The wise ones again offered their useful suggestion that I keep combustibles on my person, with the inference that it will alleviate the chance of Andrew being tempted to start another fire.  But it was rather amusing when, not long after, Andrew returned from the loo saying that a lighter had been left on the sink and that he’d brought it down in case a little kid finds it.  The justices were worried that I fail to acknowledge the possibility/probability that the fire was started by one of us.  I couldn’t get the facts through to the numskulls that the fire is unexplained and since we’ve experienced other bizarre phenomena [which is not that unusual] there could be a connection.

I was then asked about the weird circumstances surrounding the fire; so I mentioned the untouched eggs, unaffected laundry and the surprising fact that the alarm didn’t activate until we walked into the room, despite the fact that the alarm was in the kitchen which was already full of thick black smoke.

They implied that I was making a fuss over nothing regarding my childminding job as I’d deregistered in 1995.  But I made them aware that I cared for ‘special needs’ children during my pregnancy with Jordan and that I had intended applying to foster a child, which is out of the question now.

Conference then began to make plans of forthcoming procedures since I “agreed to co-operate.”  Why can’t they at least afford me a bit of honesty and say that they are forcing me to go along with all this appalling nonsense because if I don’t they will take my children away. Stupid me, I forgot, people who sit in judgement wouldn’t know what honesty was if it came up and smacked them on their noses.  They stated that Andrew urgently needs to see a child psychologist.  More like they need to!  I said that I wanted to be with him, even if I was just in the background.  But they all chorused “absolutely not” because “even if you don’t say anything you’ll still be an influence.”  ‘Bloody b…. ’ I thought to myself, ‘They’ll make him say something which they’ll turn against us.  I don’t trust this bunch of ill-willed malicious hypocrites.’

At the end, they all commented again on what lovely children I have and that they’re all so well behaved, which posed the obvious question but neither the kids nor I could be bothered asking it.  Jordan’s and Mel’s behaviour revealed the truth about these insincere evil people – they both looked away, protested and refused to play with any of the devils.  Their level of hostility was self-evident; yet if a kindly complete stranger in the street socialises with them, they always smile and respond with glee.

As we were leaving I recalled that the Chair always starts the meeting stressing the confidentiality aspect, which of course is to ensure that their grubby, bullyboy tactics and seedy secrets remain hidden.  They involve whomever they please in their dirty dealings and they send reports to various other professional members of their phoney gang, without asking my permission.  So it suddenly occurred to me that here is going to be one lowly individual who will blab about the corruption of them to the world.  HAH!  As I walked away from them I again hissed, “There is a stench of corruption here.  I’ll get to the bottom of it, one day, no matter how long it takes me…. And then I’ll be blabbing to the world.”

I told the kids that I was worried that I might’ve unintentionally gone over the top again, but they assured me that I was meant to say such things and that if I’d timidly backed down, God would’ve given me a kick up the backside.  I then turned deadly serious, stopped firmly in my tracks, grabbed hold of Andrew and Shell and held them close as tears began to sting my eyes. I sniffed, “If ever the unthinkable happens and those despicable insects do take you away from me, always remember, it won’t be for long; stay strong, stand up to them, don’t let them break you, look after Jordy and Melly and don’t forget that I’ll be fighting like crazy to get you back.”

At home I frantically searched for the photos of the fire aftermath but they’ve disappeared.  All the others are there – even some from the same film.  How odd.  Don’t tell me this is no coincidence and that the bad spirits are causing trouble again.  I desperately want to compare my snaps to the officials’.  I phoned Walshie to ask for copies but I was refused because Andrew is not being charged or reported.  I offered to pay but was again refused and told to pursue it through my solicitor.  He said he didn’t know what my problem was.  So I explained, “Being registered is very damaging.  I risk losing all my children and I’ve effectively lost my job.  This stigma will hang around like a bad smell for years to come.”  I added that if the photos reveal anything ‘odd’, then I’m sure they will be of interest to everyone.

My mind was buzzing with the nauseating awareness that so many arrogant self-servers abuse their positions of power.  I reckon people become powerful as a test to see which superpower they serve.  Are they God’s servants or Satan’s?  It would appear that the majority back the latter.  There is no point in people pretending to be Christians if they don’t behave impeccably. God knows the truth.  I am more determined than ever now to fight evil.  It’ll be a lifetime’s job, but I’d rather work for God any day than any human living on this planet.  I’ve noticed that during moments of weakness and indecision, something unquantifiable reassures me and tells me what to say and what to do and how to do it.  I believe that the truly saintly folk are actually angels with human exteriors who have one mission only – to free the world of evil, suffering and despair, and to make it righteous rule.  I believe this can be achieved if we all kick up one hell of a fuss with whoever has wronged us. We all need to become zero tolerating.  When I think of defeat and surrender, I feel a jolt that reminds me that such a path is weak and cowardly - Satan’s way.  We all need to do our bit to help the good guys win.  Think formidable and you are. 

I now know that God works in mysterious ways to get his message out but many ignore him.  Some have the gift of song, drama, preaching, journalism….  and some have spiritual guiding dreams.  But however we choose to recognise and express our love of God according to our personality, it is meaningless if our hearts don’t feel it and we don’t behave in a principled manner and in a way that will free the world of hatred and malevolence.  If we don’t have faith and the fight in us for freedom, our alternative is eternal misery and fear.  Freedom is never handed out on a plate; you have to battle for it.  It’s alright witnessing gruesome scenes on TV, sympathising with victims and thanking God that it isn’t us; well it very soon will be if we don’t fight back.  We shouldn’t have to keep our kids in behind locked doors simply because it isn’t safe for them to be outside.  We aren’t even safe in our homes, schools, shops, anywhere.