SEPTEMBER

SEPTEMBER 1^ST 1999

I was hauled in front of the court welfare officer for my account of recent events.  Vera agreed that the ‘at risk’ stigma is damaging and that it has lengthened the court proceedings and will always rear its ugly head and thwart any future desires I may have to work with children.  Even she believed that if we’d just had the fire there might have been a conference but the kids would almost certainly not be registered.  She offered me a glimmer of hope that she feels my repugnant ex has dropped his residence demands because he hadn’t mentioned it to her during his interview.  I informed her that Gareth deceives everyone and that no matter what he says or what he doesn’t say, he has no intention of dropping his residency request – ever.

It was a warm sunny day yet the whole building was, appallingly, centrally heated to such intolerable levels that all windows yawned open!

On our return, teeny terrors from up our road sneaked down my drive and slung mud and rocks.  It was a completely unprovoked attack.  I vomited fury at them and they scarpered, delighted at my reaction.

SEPTEMBER 2^ND 1999

After tea the same kids and the lad that I’d walloped off my wall with a big stick came around hurtling rocks and messing with my bin.  I called police but they didn’t bother fronting up.  At about 8.00 pm the imbecile nitwits came back to lob more missiles at us.  Again police didn’t bother showing up.  Later I heard the little cretins in my back yard, so I barged out with a metal bar but they’d hoofed it.  I found red paint on my kitchen window and door.  Again I called the clown cops but was feebly informed that they’d been down my road, saw no conflict, so had driven off.  I named the culprits but they said that it’s all quiet on my road now so there’s no problem.  They ignored me when I urged them to visit the parents and play hell otherwise this nonsense would just continue and I’d be forever calling out police….

I saw a bleak documentary called ‘Eyes of a Child’.  One in three kids live in poverty – three times as many as in 1978.  One in eight kids have ‘behavioural’ problems by the time they are three.  One in three fourteen year olds has tried drugs.  Britain locks up more kids than any other country.  Kids commit more than fifteen thousand crimes daily.  A teacher is physically attacked in school daily.  Social workers don’t bother with the troubled/troublesome kids and don’t bother providing them with an education…. The kids are crying out for the government to crack down on things that are wrong such as corruption, crime, drugs and alcohol so that their parents stay good.  One little girl said, “If you have a good parent and a bad one, the good one turns bad.”  Says it all.  And Blair bangs on about a ‘moral’ crusade!

SEPTEMBER 3^RD 1999

Linzi and I got together for a chinwag.  She’s in the midst of her divorce proceedings but her ex is not happy about it and is already being a b…. d, pulling the kids out of their private school and hanging on to their luxurious pad while she has to live as a pauper in a rented flat.  I told her to fight for the house especially as she has the kids but she doesn’t care about such materialistic things and just wants to be free of him.  Typically, now he’s going through the ‘grovelling’ routine and bombards her with letters of remorse, red roses, invitations out for candlelit dinners and the best wine…. It’s a very familiar story!!!

SEPTEMBER 4^TH 1999

The numskulls turned up again taunting, waving sticks and catapulting rocks.  One stung me on the leg.  That did it.  I gave chase, waving my eight foot stick, not caring who I clouted and where.  I’d decided that if the police question me I’d tell them that I was being threatened by those thugs with GBH and that I’d just reacted in self-defence.  It is not child abuse since they wouldn’t leave on my orders and they just continued tormenting me with weapons.  Police can’t hack real problems, they prefer to fill in forms, take umpteen statements, make empty promises and blame everyone else for their failures.  All they want is their fat pay cheques and to hell with what’s going on around them.  Well the police hierarchy will have a hell of a shock when they find that they and their families are victims of violent crime.  And it will happen – it is a certainty. 

SEPTEMBER 6^TH 1999

The coco clowns Deb and Mo came to bend my ear again.  They were twenty minutes LATE too!  I was largely asked to repeat the same things discussed at conference, then the idle natter shifted to considering what is acceptable for kids aged almost ten and eleven to do alone.  Mo did another U-turn and is now saying that the kids should only stay half an hour maximum in the park [previously she’d said an hour was fine.]  Blimey most kids that age [and younger] spend all day in the park.  Is she suggesting that all those kids are registered ‘at risk’?  When I was eleven I worked in a hotel during the holidays and when I was twelve I was regularly responsible for my neighbour’s two-year old daughter.  I’d take her out most Saturday afternoons for more than three hours.  Were we more mature as kids than today’s youth?  It’s got to the stage where I’m terrified to let Andrew and Shell do anything alone for fear of being reported by the devil’s disciple and getting into more trouble with the authorities.  I told her I’m so close to falling off the tightrope and that I certainly do not want to find myself prosecuted for something and in court.

I’d always believed that you shouldn’t wrap kids up in cotton wool and that it is healthy for them to just explore and play without adult intervention.  But now I’m of the opinion that I need some clear guidelines in writing from social services on what is considered acceptable for my kids to do alone, where they can do it and for how long.  Mo said that I’m not allowed to leave the kids playing in the back yard but that it would be acceptable if it was just for the time it takes to drop the babies at church and return as long as I left the back door open but locked the inner kitchen door.  She was not prepared to put this and other recommendations in writing though because if anything did happen to the kids I’d be prosecuted.  Yet if my kids get hurt/killed by known thugs/vicious dogs that the authorities fail to deal with, they’re immune from criminal charges!  

My future position working with kids is also hazy.  Graham Seale tells me the ‘at risk’ register won’t affect my job, another official tells me it will.  No one will put the facts down in writing. This is my work we’re talking about here.  They’ve got no right to snatch it from under my nose.  Am I a prisoner/slave with no rights?  It all stinks.  The majority of us second-class citizens lead a perilous existence.  It is just a matter of luck how long you remain alive in the jungle. 

Afterwards dad again hinted heavily that I should stop antagonising and should get along with the authorities.  But again I insisted that I have a voice and must use it.  I told him that if I didn’t speak my mind my insides would get all knotted up and I’d be physically ill.

SEPTEMBER 7^TH 1999

The government’s ‘get people back to work’ crusade was discussed on the radio.  Many phoned in to say women who stay at home with the kids are treated abominably by the government and are classed as underdogs.  But the truth is parenting is very demanding and extremely important work and many shirk their responsibilities.  It’s about time mere mothers were given recognition for their admirable achievements when they bring up their brood successfully.

It costs fifty pounds a week to ‘educate’ a child in a state school.  Since I’d be entitled to free school dinners, free uniform and heavily subsidised ‘educational’ trips for my kids if they were in school, I reckon I should be paid one hundred pounds per week at least for doing the State’s job.  [My pay should be increased to two hundred pounds when I begin educating Jordan and Melissa also.]  In addition I should be compensated for their failure to educate my children satisfactorily.  Not to mention the compensation due for being on the receiving end of council corruption…. But since that’s never going to happen, I shouldn’t feel guilty about receiving my state benefit pittance.  In New Zealand the State pays parents to home educate their kids.

SEPTEMBER 8^TH 1999

Talk Radio covered the scandal of innocent people finding themselves charged by police for offences when they were merely trying to protect their property and family.  All the callers spoke about themselves stopping a potentially violent situation or running out with weapons to remove thieves and trespassers.  BUT it is always the victims who end up arrested and chucked in jail…. and the criminals run off laughing their socks off - to re-offend.  It is outrageous.  We householders have the right to use ‘reasonable force’ against these criminals; but hang on, what exactly constitutes ‘reasonable’ and is the bunch of bone idle buzzards creeping around, pinching all the silver and other worldly goods acting ‘reasonably’?  Are we supposed to politely tap on an intruder’s shoulder and say, “Excuse me, would please give me my things back and then wait here for the policeman?”

The NHS say thirty six million pounds would be saved if everyone had a dog.  Oh please!  Their logic is that people would be forced to walk more and would thus be a lot healthier.  Rubbish, those dogs would cost the government more.  Most would end up as strays because the owners would soon tire of the four-legged thing in the porch/shed, on the end of a chain…. The mutts would end up defecating everywhere and threatening pedestrians and….

SEPTEMBER 9^TH 1999

I did something today that I never thought I would.  I ruthlessly removed the bulk of mum’s ornaments into a box – for sale.  I decided that I hate dusting, I need the space and I need the cash.

The government are threatening to sneak the “importance of marriage” into the school curriculum.  Oh for gawd’s sake!

SEPTEMBER 10^TH 1999

I received some encouraging words from two publishers.  At least I haven’t received any letters unopened labelled “return to sender.”  The strange thing is though my A4 sized packages both arrived opened.  They were haphazardly torn open and no one had made any attempt to re-seal them.  Perhaps it was just a coincidence and they’d got ripped as the postie shoved them through the letterbox.  Two other letters – one from my solicitor and one from my building society arrived sealed.  I hope this doesn’t mean that the letter sent from a publisher that says “yes” is somehow prevented from being delivered to me.  I decided I was being paranoid.

SEPTEMBER 11^TH 1999

Some sly git shoved superglu into my yale lock.  More expense, more time wasting, more anger and frustration…. I would so love to just up sticks and clear off somewhere – far away from here.

Andrew got stuck into his maths.  He remarked that he’s so happy that he doesn’t have to go to school cos when he was there he had to behave badly just to survive as just about the whole school were naughty and stupid.  Forty percent of secondary schools fall below the required standard – and that’s the official statistic!  It’s pretty grim.

Jordan simply refused to use the loo.  Every time I attempted to put him on he screamed and tensed up.  My bone idle ex can’t be bothered to make sure Jordan uses the loo – he finds it easier to just shove him back in nappies.  It’s not surprising Jord is confused and angry about using the toilet now.  But do the courts care?  Do they hell.

So Robin Cook announces an embargo on arms to Indonesia.  Bit ruddy late isn’t it? - By about twentyfive years.

SEPTEMBER 13^TH 1999

I watched a deeply disturbing, heart-wrenching documentary about a fifteen-month old baby who died because social workers at Islington council failed unforgivably in their line of duty.  The parents were unimaginably despicable in the way they lived and abused their children.  They were given a new house, new equipment and cash yet they trashed the lot almost immediately and lived in the pigsty of their own making.  The older children occasionally gave a filthy bottle of sour milk to their little brother when they remembered but the little guy was so weak and badly burned all over from his own urine and faeces that he couldn’t reach up for it and he died whimpering.  Astoundingly, after the baby’s death, social workers strongly considered placing the older children back with their wicked parents.  It defies belief. 

Robin Cook offered his son Peter the chance of a high-flying job in the arms trade.  The Foreign Secretary planned to use labour party contacts to seek a graduate post at British Aerospace, the firm at the centre of controversy over UK arms sales to Indonesia.  But Cook’s son, a long standing anti-arms activist, refused on principle.  Well done, Pete.  Your father is a self-serving hypocrite – gracing the world stage taking credit for assisting Kosovar refugees on ‘moral grounds’ while selling Bae Hawk jets to Indonesia to assist in the carnage of E Timoreans.

SEPTEMBER 14^TH 1999

My solicitor wrote to me enclosing a letter from Amphletts who stated that they had “brought your letter to the attention of the court welfare officer.”  Amphletts also “suggest that if you have strong concerns, you write to the court welfare officer expressing the same….”

I felt quite chuffed cos I slipped into my size twelve shorts with ease.  The diet/exercise plan is at last working.

A radio discussion on the Royals cropped up.  I think they are a wealthy, privileged, dysfunctional family who cost a mint and do the public no good whatsoever.  I do not serve the Queen and am most certainly not one of her subjects.  The only good un they had amongst them was Diana and they got rid of her.  They killed her because she was honest and decent.  The rest are such fakes.  Diana genuinely did her best to right so many of the world’s wrongs and improve life for the impoverished and suffering.  In the doing she was shunned by the royal family but greatly admired by ‘her’ people; so much so that she stood head and shoulders above the rest [literally, and in more ways than one.]  God worked through Diana and for that reason Di will continue to plague the royals from beyond the grave.  They didn’t really think they could silence one of God’s angels when they plotted to kill Diana, did they?

Maureen is a cheeky monkey.  She’s now discussing me with my dad as if I’m a four year old! She told dad that the next fire we have could be fatal.  No, you don’t say!  Jesus any fire can be fatal, an electric shock can be fatal, falling [even stepping] off a ladder can be fatal, choking on a boiled sweet…. Does she actually expect any of us to believe that they care about my kids?  She asked dad if I am a good mum and if I do live in a rough area…. All she has to do is enquire with the police [on second thoughts those lying crooks would probably tell her that there’s never any trouble on our road.]  She should just stand one night at the top of my road and observe.  But she wouldn’t dare because she probably already knows that it’s a no-go area and she’d be scared of being hit by a flying rock.  Haven’t these social workers got any proper work to do?

SEPTEMBER 15^TH 1999

Some yobbo has hurled white powder in my yard and on my door and wall.  Don’t those dimwits have anything better to do?

Maureen showed up to antagonise me.  She was adamant that the fire was deliberately set, so we got embroiled in a battle of words.  She argued there is no question of the fire being accidental and that the ‘experts’ had proved it.  “On the contrary,” I retorted, “those so-called experts have proved nothing.  The police  - CID’s Chris Walsh was determined to have us registered at the first conference when there was no information available at that time from the fire authority.  Walshie couldn’t wait to thrust his eager little hand into the air when the Chair asked for votes.  He reminded me of the smug little schoolboy who is always first with his hand up, eager to tell the teacher that he knows the answer.  I watched him more closely than the others.  I could see he was itching to get us registered.  There has to be something sinister going on.  I don’t care what you say; all this is the work of some secret criminal set-up and Gareth is at the centre of it and is being protected, by the authorities.”  I continued, “Of course the rest of the dummies dutifully followed suit and priggishly voted their ‘yes’ for us to be in this obscene predicament.  All except two – Eva and Pat.”

Mo continued to insist that the fire was started deliberately.  I said, “This is so wrong.  It was such a tiny fire.  We did everything correct as far as getting everyone out was concerned and calling the fire dept immediately.  If the public get wind of this story they’ll be too scared to contact the authorities if they suffer something similar, for fear of being blamed.  Most would probably try to tackle such a fire themselves.  I can’t explain to you the shock I feel at the panel’s attitude and how much stress we are all under now because of it.  I now suffer the constant worry that my abusive, alcoholic, violent ex could quite conceivably get custody of my babies and I am terrified of anything else untoward happening because I know it will mean my kids being removed into ‘care’.  Having a fire is absolutely horrendous but all of this is just as bad, if not worse.  It is persecution.  Don’t you ever try to tell me that all this is doing my kids some good.”

I bulldozed on, “What I want to know is why aren’t the authorities doing anything about the problems in our street, such as the intolerably high levels of Cocaine and Heroin, which is sweeping sleepy Colwyn Bay?  Not only are these dirty disgusting drugs responsible for most of society’s crime, but more and more victims are becoming hooked on the deadly weed.  It is outrageous.  The powers bang on about their ‘war on drugs’, well if they were serious, our airwaves would be saturated with adverts and chat shows telling us about the dangers of taking them.  I’ve never seen such warnings.  They would also be targeting the smugglers and dealers and Mafia.  The complete flow of drugs and even production can be stopped if that is what governments seriously want.  It CAN be done; if nations can successfully organize armies to go to war against each other, they can successfully deal with the drugs problem.  The truth is Satan’s servants are liars; they don’t want to stop the masses spending their money on drugs.  And the more people that they can get hooked on such filth, the better.” 

I continued, “The council spend lots of dosh putting little ol’ me through HELL.  They employ you and Deb to torment me weekly with up to two-hourly sessions, they employ you, Deb, Noella and Anne to pester me monthly with your useless core groups, they employ a psychiatric social worker to bug me and a special psychiatrist to waste my time, plus they employ another specialist psychiatrist and his side kick to harass my kids, and not content with all that, they employ twelve or so highly paid professionals to gather around a table periodically to discuss ‘proceedings’.  What a scandalous drain on the public purse.  They should be using that money to combat crime and clean up our streets of drugs.  They’re going to have to explain themselves to the public one day because the people will revolt and they will refuse to pay their taxes.  They won’t care if they get lobbed in prison for it; around half of all prisoners anyway are not criminals, they are political prisoners or victims of injustice.  The council WILL be held accountable and WILL have to answer for their crimes one day in the not too distant future…. Don’t you realise that if there was no corruption, people would have hardly any tax to pay anyway.” 

Maureen then made my day by informing me that she and Deb are only half way through their ‘Comprehensive Risk Assessment’ due to various snags.  She insisted that two of them need to visit me weekly but that it hasn’t always been possible because she or Deb have been absent due to: leave, hols, sickness, Deb’s child being ill…. I grunted, “I have no choice but to put up with all this nonsense; but one day I’ll have my say.  I’ll never let it drop.  The overwhelming anger and sense of injustice eats away within me, like a growing cancer.  This sort of ugly control freakery cannot be allowed to continue.  There must be some big changes and there WILL be.  GOD will decide when.”

She then started asking me if I have ‘support systems’ and that she wouldn’t want me to be feeling ‘isolated’.  I told her not to bother pretending to be worried about me.  I said, “I don’t exactly have much time for me and to do things that I enjoy, such as sport or having a night out with friends.  My time is wasted because of you lot, court welfare officers, solicitors, local yobbos, idiotic adults, savage dogs and ineffectual police…. Now, my court fight with my intolerable ex is more complicated and is dragging on because of your peccadilloing.  But, for your information, you can write down in your note book that: yes I have friends and squash buddies…. and if you nitwits would leave me alone I could go out and enjoy them, become relaxed and happy again and a better mum to my kids.  Don’t you realise that this intrusion is not healthy for me and doesn’t exactly put me in a brilliant frame of mind?”  Well, she jumped on that, didn’t she and asked if I needed social services’ assistance – someone to take the kids off me occasionally to give me a bit of a break.  I barked, “No chance.  Not in a million years. Do you think I’d trust you lot?  Hells bells, I can’t believe you people.  I’ve heard it all now.  You’re just not listening, are you?  If I just dropped dead now, you’d still be coming here bothering me and blabbing on about nothing whilst everything around you has gone to rack and ruin.  You know, Hitler was allowed to continue his murderous campaign because people had their heads stuck in the sand.  They thought his behaviour wouldn’t affect them, and when they did finally realise that they too were going to be victims, it was too late to do anything about it.”  

She began bugging me with questions that I’ve answered repeatedly before, such as: What’s Andrew’s middle name?  Were you married to Gaven?  Bloody incredible!  Astonishingly she even began to preach that I shouldn’t blacken Gareth to the kids.  I boomed, “Oh yes I should – I’m no pretender like you people.  Andrew and Shell know all about Gareth’s lies and wicked ways.  They deserve the truth and will never get it from the likes of you.  It’s high time that all the agencies/individuals who purport to be members of the ‘welfare’ and ‘justice’ system stop the lies and cover ups, and condemn and punish the evil ones.  It is scandalous that public servants buck pass and seek to make their jobs easy rather than solve society’s problems.  It is a disgrace that they try to find an ‘equilibrium’ and that they’re fond of fudge up, compromise and appeasement.  Everyone should be doing their bit to stop the spread of evil, which means bringing to book the real offenders.  Better still let’s see the ‘ordinary’ people challenge the corruption, which is endemic in society.  Let’s see mass demonstrations and demands for transparency and public scrutiny of ALL dealings regarding all governments – local and national, and all government agencies.  Then we might start seeing justice and peace.” 

Mo was adamant that my including the kids will have a damaging effect on them and that I am influencing them negatively.  I barked, “You lot have put my kids in this obscene predicament. The only thing I can do for them now is to explain that they have done nothing wrong and are not to blame and that the police and fire ‘experts’ should not accuse Andrew.  If I didn’t talk about all this and explain where the blame really lies, they WOULD crack up and go off the rails. That’s what happens to people who suffer an injustice.  They go insane in the end.  Kids should know about corruption; then they can do something about it.  If I’m sinning in my outlook, then the likes of you are far greater sinners.  You, yourself, are committing a crime against humanity because you refuse to challenge your guilty superiors.  Instead you work for them - you are on their pay roll; also you urge me to help you spread the evil.  You do that by persecuting me and by asking me to lie to my children.”  I informed Mo that her daughter/sister might one day date the likes of Gareth and that afterwards she’d want all the help she could get to expose him for what he is and have him punished.  She would also want to expose the bent bureaucrats who are his protectors.  Maureen did have the decency to agree.  She went quiet and just nodded.  I tried to get her to understand that this is not about revenge; it is about doing the right thing and stopping the rot – for everyone’s sakes.  And that means attacking the people at the top of the tree – the ones with ultimate responsibility for the destruction, degradation and dehumanisation that our world is in right now. 

I again banged on about the dirty drugs and baccy scandal and said that I fear for my children’s futures.  I told her that I’m terrified that my kids might start taking weed and other dirty drugs etc when they’re older.  They are bound to at least try it because it will be pushed on them, just as it is with all the other kids.  I banged on about all the evil influence out there and the amount of kids who are already addicts and heading for the gutters….  I said that no matter how good parents are at parenting, they are powerless to stop their kids trying harmful substances because kids are influenced from their peers.  You can’t wrap teenagers up in cotton wool and keep them indoors.  I reminded Mo that it is the duty of the authorities to clamp down on the dirty drug business.  But Maureen’s ‘concerns’ for my kids’ welfare didn’t stretch that far.  She wasn’t listening.  She just wasn’t interested in the wider picture - in the things that really matter.

She then progressed to the alterations of the minutes that I’d requested and informed me that Graham Seale won’t agree to it because he says that whatever was spoken in the minutes was correct.  I retorted, “Which goes to show that those meetings should be taped because there are inaccuracies such as the reference to Andrew’s ‘diaries’ – he has no diary and I made it clear they were my diary notes.”  She also informed me that they’d chased up the identity of the so-called friend of a friend of Gareth’s but that they cannot disclose it to me.  Bloody liars, did they hell.  I spat, “Well bloody surprise, surprise!  No prizes for guessing why!  Social services surround themselves in a shroud of sinister secrecy.  It’s staggering that we allow our public servants to operate in this closed way.  You don’t need to be a bright spark to work out why such organisations are a sordid safe breeding ground for corruption.  The truth is social services simply cannot deal with, do not have the resources to deal with and don’t want to deal with the real problematic families and evil buggers like Gareth.  Just like the CSA, they can only cope with decent meek families who volunteer information – the very people who don’t want/need/deserve such authoritarian harassment. It seems to me that they waste grotesque amounts of the public’s money on persecuting and suppressing the peaceloving harmless and law-abiding - the ones who love their children and only want to protect them.  Social services do the exact opposite of what they’re supposed to stand for.  God bless the day when people in their droves refuse to co-operate with officialdom.  They can’t lob us all in jail.  And especially God bless those who challenge officialdom and bring to book the evildoers.” 

When my aggravator had gone, Jordan planted himself behind me and rolled his tennis ball up my back.  Oh it was a heavenly massage!  I told him to do it again.

It was quite ironic when I read in the local rag that “foster carers are to be paid fees in a new scheme by Conwy County Council because of the crisis faced by the local authorities in finding sufficient numbers of foster families.”  That is atrocious since there are oodles of fit and proper carers out there willing and able to do the job but who are turned down for petty reasons.  And, worse, there are perfectly suitable people willing to do the job but are deliberately and mischievously prevented from doing so for no particular reason other than spite.

SEPTEMBER 16^TH 1999

The Core group crowd came to cause me more inconvenience.  I kicked off about the scheduled 6^th October conference arrangements pointing out that since Mo and Deb hadn’t finished their program of harassment and the psychiatrists’ hadn’t exactly started theirs, what was the point in all of us gathering around a table to discuss something which hasn’t exactly progressed anywhere, especially since their bit of circus entertainment is a waste of everyone’s time and the taxpayer’s cash.  Ah ha!  I won a little victory.  They all agreed with me and Mo decided she’d try to get the session postponed.  Anne mentioned that eczema is cause for concern and that it is a factor that determines whether a child is registered.  That’s another lie but I couldn’t be bothered arguing the toss.  We got yakking again about corruption and injustice and the evils of the world and I said that I wasn’t getting at any of them per se and that my anger and frustration is directed at society’s systems, the money priests and bent bosses.  I told them, “You are mere puppets in the scheme of things – meekly obeying your masters.  I obey a higher boss who knows all about truth and lies, good and bad.”

Melly woke up, did not want to socialise with the people in my lounge and buried her face into my neck.  They all remarked that she’s shy.  What does this word ‘shy’ mean?  In my book it means you don’t want to talk to someone for a variety of reasons.  Everyone feels this at different times.  It doesn’t mean you’re scared of someone – it just means you’d rather not bother with somebody [or more than one body] because of the mood you’re in sometimes.   Eventually they all sodded off.

Later dad and I argued.  He said I must stop filling the kids’ heads with spirit talk, that people who believe in God are cranks and that all kids are liars.  He said, “If Andrew did start that fire, I jolly well hope he’s learned his lesson.”  I told him that he should not accuse on a mere whim and that these social worker gangsters are succeeding in bringing us all to blows.  I said that I can’t prove that we didn’t start the fire and they can’t prove that we did and that the whole stupid situation is stagnant and getting us nowhere.  He again said that I should be careful what I say to Mo and co and again warned me that the way I’m going, I will lose my kids.  I asked, “Do you want me to surrender?  I have a right to speak out against this farcicalness.  How else are we going to achieve changes?  We have to challenge the authorities.  It is long overdue for the worm to turn.” 

In the evening Andrew told me that God says that I must now back off from attacking the authorities.  He said, “God told me to tell you that you’ve got your message over.  Now you must change tactics - become mild, play their game.”  He continued, “God says: don’t bother getting all angry anymore.  Shouting, screaming, throwing yourself around is all negative energy and does you no good.  God says such behaviour is for the under fives and that you need to keep your cool in order to do the job he expects of you and has entrusted you with.”  I’m so shocked and confused with events so far that I found myself staring at him open-mouthed and then meekly nodding in agreement.  Quite often, when I speak to those in authority, it isn’t really me speaking anyway.  It’s as if I’m being taken over by something and the words just tumble out.  I start off by behaving myself and being like dad wants me to be but then something happens and I just change and then there’s no holding me back.  I just let rip.  I can’t explain it really.

SEPTEMBER 17^TH 1999

Dad showed me the envelope that birdbrain had sent his twelve pounds monthly payment in.  It had a two pence stamp on it!  The archfiend won’t set up a standing order because he has every intention of defaulting.

Dad then asked me for a copy of the first two or three months of this diary so that he can show my manuscript to his writer friend.  Apparently this friend has had some success as a writer and knows what agents/ publishers et cetera are looking for with a view to taking on new writers.  This bloke is prepared to give me some advice.  Well, that’s mighty decent of him.  I’ll take all the help I can get, especially as it is so hard to get work published.

Vera’s second ‘welfare’ report arrived.  It states almost immediately that we had a fire and that all four of my children are now on the “Conwy Child Protection register under the category of risk of physical harm.”  Oh terrific.  This is going to go down like a ton of bricks with the court.  The welfare officer writes, “The fire on 20^th May was brought to the attention of the social services department by the fire service who also referred the matter to the N W Police.  It would appear that having dealt with the minor kitchen fire, the fire officer became concerned by comments made by Ms Kilby about the supernatural happenings she had been experiencing.”  So there you have it in black and white – fire fighter Brian is my betrayer and the reason we now have to endure this relentless witch-hunt.  Summut told me I was making a big mistake entrusting him. 

Fair play Vera says that his nibs makes spurious and unfounded referrals and that his watching and apparent knowledge of my every move is considered harassment. Vera also writes, “It is Mr Williams’ perception that Jordan and Melissa do not wish to return to their mother and that this leads to arguments at handovers.”  Lying b…. std.  I don’t bother arguing with the evil-minded little man anymore.  Anyway I daren’t; it’d only provoke him.  I take the babies and shut the door in his face, leaving him complaining to himself.  More often than not tho, sometime during the day or evening on a Thursday or Saturday, one or both of the babies is upset, whingy, clingy, hyper, destructive….

She enclosed a copy of the police’s input, which states, “The police attended to domestic differences between or emanating from these persons; suitable advice was preferred; there were elements of exaggeration on both sides.”  Well that doesn’t paint a very honest picture.  The truth is their so-called ‘advice’ was merely buck-passing to solicitors.  They should’ve instigated harassment charges.  Chief superintendent L Davies’ way of dealing with a menace like Gareth is to threaten the victim with ‘bound over’ charges!  And I did not exaggerate about the annoying behaviour of Gareth and his vengeful family.  The report continues, “Mr Williams chose to resign of his own volition having been advised that the parties difficulties and continued involvement of the police in their differences was not compatible with the role.” Which would imply that the police do believe me and support me, and if that’s the case why the ‘bound over’ threat?  If they are taking Gareth’s allegations against me seriously, why didn’t they query his complaints with me?  They didn’t; which suggests that they know he’s lying; yet whenever I called police out regarding him, they responded, so why wasn’t such acknowledged in their report?  If he was a good special constable, and if he enjoyed his job and they valued him [and the police are certainly crying out for staff], then why would he be asked to resign?  Supposing I am the liar and he isn’t harassing and stalking me.  If that was the case it would be astonishing that an innocent man had to resign.   Also, why do authorities hide behind vague terminology such as “parties difficulties”?  The fact is I am the only one experiencing ‘difficulties’ because Gareth Williams is making false allegations about me and is harassing me yet the powers that be refuse to stop him; they prefer the easy option of remaining neutral.  What a cop out.  Gareth has no ‘difficulties’.  We’re not damaging his house, snooping around his yard, lying our heads off about him to: NSPCC, Social Workers, Police etc etc etc.

Vera adds, “Ms Kilby and Mr Williams are actively involved in collecting evidence which they hope will denigrate the other in the eyes of the court which is unhelpful and focuses their attention away from the children’s needs.”  Again this is a neutral, incorrect comment.  The facts should be stated and sides taken.  I am forced to collect ‘proof’ of his blatant lies and I’m fighting to keep my head above water.  In my case it is sink or swim whereas he is just being a bloody-minded troublemaker. My attention is always focused on the children’s needs, which is why I’m desperately trying to limit contact with their alcoholic abusive father. 

She writes, “Ms Kilby’s parenting ability is being looked at by social services.  The court will be concerned that the fire incident is largely unexplained and risk of future problems while the children are in their mother’s care cannot be discounted.  Mr Williams’ parenting ability is not in question.”  How bloody outrageous can you get?  By now social services’ records on GW’s older children [referrals which were made by head teachers of three schools] should be revealed in detail on this court welfare report for scrutiny by the court since the father of those children is also the father of the two children in question now.  If any of these so-called ‘child welfare workers’ really cared about the welfare of children, they’d be falling over themselves trying to get social services’ and Nia Smith’s [the EWO] records on Mr Williams’ older children.  Also they’d be harassing the head teachers of the three schools demanding further information in detail.  This is especially so since GW is not willing to disclose the information himself i.e. to prove to everyone that despite investigations into his alleged abuse of his children he has been found not guilty and is therefore a good parent.  Since he is not prepared to let us see the official reports, we can conclude that he has something to hide.  That makes it all the more reason why the ‘child welfare workers’ should insist on their disclosure.  Why the reluctance to get to the truth?  I have a sneaking suspicion that if the boot was on the other foot and I had been investigated following referrals [especially since some of them came from school head teachers] regarding my suspected abuse of my children, the reports on such would have been available for scrutiny by all and sundry long before now!    

Moreover why is it not stated in this report that the so-called ‘burn’ concern, which was mentioned in Vera’s first report, was in fact merely common infantile eczema as stated in the conference minutes?  She states that I’d do well to comply with social services instead of resenting their involvement.  Well she can go take a hike.  Anyone with an ounce of self-respect would kick up a stink under such circumstances.  Vera does acknowledge that my abominable ex told her that he has me “watched” and that his behaviour is making matters worse, which may have a knock on effect on the children.  But she says, “Neither Ms Kilby or Mr Williams appear willing to accept responsibility for the situation and they should work together for the welfare of their children.”  Which gets back to the point that he is the trouble-shooter and begs the question how can you work with someone who lies and engages in criminal activities? 

Vera concludes with the remarks that, “Contact is benefiting Jordan and Melisa.”  How on earth can she be in a position to pass such a judgemental and influential remark?  I know how unsettled, insecure and problematic Jordy and Melly are because of contact with Gareth Williams.  If Alcoholics Anonymous divulged information to the court about his alcoholic dependency, if Social Services in Gwynedd and Conwy came clean with their disturbing knowledge of Gareth’s violence and abuse of his children, if the Police were honest about their knowledge of Gareth’s criminal activities…. the Court would agree with me that any contact with such an unsavoury character is a further unforgivable abuse.

I was amazed to hear a discussion on Talk Radio about external examiners bending the rules with marking to give kids a more favourable grade.  Some examiners resigned in disgust.  The SATS tests are a joke because teachers help their pupils out.  No one takes SATS seriously since most kids cheat.  Many parents phoned in to say that lots of university graduates are illiterate.  Teachers and their assistants state that school kids are failing at reading/writing and numbers and that GCSEs and ‘A’ levels are worthless.  Sobering thoughts.  The discussion progressed then to some bright spark from the ‘education’ department insisting that there is no evidence to suggest that smaller classes are more beneficial.  Oh for heavens sakes.  If this is the mentality of our ‘experts’ then God help us.  How about the evidence of common sense?

SEPTEMBER 18^TH 1999

Over breakfast Melly abruptly stopped everything that she was doing, began to concentrate in earnest, went red in the face and made little noises.  After a few seconds she broke into a huge smile, said “aaah” and continued with her cornflakes.

Just as I was about to go off on my regular jog, I noticed a handbag abandoned by my wall and the contents strewn all over my drive.  Some poor woman had lost her prize possession.  Amazingly nothing appeared to have been stolen because I found her license, make up, comb, keys, letters, photos and even fifteen pounds in cash.  I promptly handed it in to police.

When I opened the door to greet my babies after contact, Jordy was [as usual] in a hurry to come in.  I noticed GW giving him a sharp tug by the hand.  He’s done it before.  I’m sure he does it to make pud cry so that he can claim that Jordy doesn’t want to come home.  As he passes Melly to me he says, “Sorry, you’ve got to go back to your mum.”

SEPTEMBER 19^TH 1999

A documentary about the CSA reveals the shocking truth that the CSA admitted giving up chasing hard targets.  They pursued easy prey – people they could extract cash from and [worse] they demanded obscene amounts off willing payers just to recoup losses and reach targets.  They had a shameful secret change in policy of dropping all non-profitable stuff.  Maybe that’d explain why I have only received one letter from the CSA regarding my despicable ex and why I haven’t yet received a solitary bean off him, yet Jordy is now two and a half years old.

SEPTEMBER 20^TH 1999

Alistair Darling prattles on about causes of poverty.  That’s a bit like querying the causes of crime!  It’s called dishonesty and greed of the filthy rich i.e. the top ten percent of the population and the injustices they cause others.  And if Darling and his cabinet cronies can’t grasp that, they should stop claiming their hefty pay packets and go on benefit.

SEPTEMBER 21^ST 1999

John Owens told me that despite Vera’s views we can’t use her as evidence against the beast for harassment charges.  He keeps telling me this is all “part and parcel” of the family court proceedings. [I bet that wouldn’t be the case if I was the guilty party though!  Here is a situation where a Welfare Officer believes GW is harassing me, yet we can’t use her evidence.  I’ve read in the papers that some blokes have been jailed for cases of harassment and yet there has never been any mention that a welfare officer or social worker or other professional considers the man’s behaviour to be harassment; the evidence was just that the bloke made a few unfounded referrals, together with other minor things, such as that he made a few nuisance calls to his ex, had driven down her road a few times…. Owens also tells me there is bugger all I can do about him reeking of alcohol during contact sessions.  So he could be drunk as a lord and the message seems to be “tough.”  Regarding social services’ records on his kids, John told me that Amphletts stress that it was only a matter of truancy, which was resolved.  “Yeah right – and the rest,” I hissed, “If that was the only problem then why not reveal them?  He has nothing to fear and nothing to hide and neither do Gwynedd County Council.”  John assured me that we’ll order them through the court on Tuesday next.   I asked about the fire aftermath photos from CID.  John is puzzled as to the delay.  I’m wondering if he did request them or if he is lying to me.  He agreed that with regard to my ‘Comprehensive Risk Assessment’, social services are making a mountain out of a molehill since they seem to be doing very little regarding their so-called assessment.

Mel’s eating habits are atrocious.  I’m just glad her granddad never comes for tea – he’d be depressed.  With her it’s a case of ten fistfuls with the left hand and one spoonful with the right.  Then she slyly picks up her half-full bowl and sneakily slings it over the side!  She and Jord are really into carrot cake at the minute and gobble up seconds and thirds….

Little Jamie Bulger’s parents are in the European Court of Human Rights fighting for justice.  They have been through hell and back because of evil Venables and Thompson.  This tragedy is an extreme example of what eventually happens when kids [and adults] are not stopped in their wrongdoings.  All child offenders start by indulging in little pranks which they get away with, so they get more daring until they turn out to be downright dangerous.  They know that the police won’t stop them, that Jo Public can’t teach them a lesson, that social services are useless and that courts merely slap them on the wrist and send them back out on the streets to re-offend.  The way the world is heading, evil will triumph because there is nothing to stop it.  The authorities are aiding and abetting evil.  It is so hard to fight for justice and so easy to just give up.  I love to hear stories of the worm turning where, after much perseverance, the victim eventually wins and changes for the better are achieved.  Unfortunately such stories are becoming less and less frequent.  Nevertheless, God bless all the people who do battle for years [lifetimes even] for justice, because their fight is everyone’s fight.

Why all the hype regarding the millennium dome?  Who really gives a fig about that bloody big monstrosity?  The seven hundred million quid could be better spent elsewhere.  And who really cares about a new year/decade/century/millennium anyway?  What’s different?  Nothing; except more pain and suffering and death for more and more innocent people.  Anyway January 1st 2000 doesn’t even constitute a new millennium, January 1^st 2001 does.  Since when have we started a new decade at the start of the tenth year? 

Andrew and Shell bought some balloons for their science experiments.  They began blowing them up but when a couple went bang, Jordy got scared, jumped on my lap and cried, “Bad baloo.”

This afternoon a PC [1302] came to my door to play hell with Andrew for stealing and injuring a valued horse at some stables in Llysfaen at the weekend.  He started wagging a finger at Andrew and he began to sternly reprimand my son, saying that the vet had to be called three times…. I was so livid my blood began to boil.  This seemed to be a repeat of the PC 939 farce and the CCTV fabrication, where on both occasions Andrew was undeservedly incriminated.  I cut him short and demanded to know exact details: When did it happen – the day, date, time?  What exactly happened to the horse?  What was Andrew feeding the horse?  What did Andrew steal?  Where are the stables?  Did police see the injured horse?  I told him that I have a strong suspicion that we are talking about the stables that back onto Gareth’s back garden and that Gareth is behind this seedy little set up somewhere. 

PC 1302 was quick [too quick for my liking] to assure me that this has nothing to do with Gareth.  I said, “It’s a bit strange that police didn’t query this with me at the weekend.  Why wait until Wednesday?”  He was not too hot on the details but stressed the point that it was definitely my kids who had been seen up there by a Mrs Cooper and that my kids had often been seen by others in that area too, recently.  I asked if he’d seen the sick horse.  He said he hadn’t and that he hadn’t spoken to Cooper but had just been given a message to question me about it and to warn my kids. I informed him that because of all the problems I’m having with my ex and the authorities, my kids are barely out of my sight….

He told me he knows all about the ongoing hassles I’ve got with Gareth and even the schizo dog and that he’s shocked that nothing is being done for me.  I told him that something secretive and sinister is going on and that it would appear that Gareth has got the full weight of the police, social services, council and possibly even my solicitor on his side.  The officer told me of an incident where a woman had only left her partner a few weeks ago and that her ex has merely driven down her road a few times and sent her some letters yet he’s being charged with harassment - statements have been filed and the court date already set.

We got nattering then on a more level pegging.  He wasn’t surprised to hear that all of my kids are registered ‘at risk’ and he told me that someone he knows is going through the same thing and that it is purely personal and vindictive on the part of the authorities.  He joked that they’d lock me up because I’m a pain in the neck to the council.  He agreed it’s always the good folk who get targeted by social services and police and that hardened criminals are left alone.  I joked, “So if I threaten GBH with serious intent to social workers, do you think they’ll back off and remove my kids’ names off that vile piece of paper that states ‘AT RISK’ and which spells out corruption, control and council power abuse.”  He laughed and nodded.

SEPTEMBER 23^RD 1999

The kids and I paid Mrs Dewi Jones of Wylfa Dafydd riding centre, Llysfaen [next door to Gareth’s] a visit.  I had my mini tape recorder in my bag.  She was taken aback and flustered.  She said that Shell had been seen by her husband feeding the horses a feed that they shouldn’t have had and that her employee, Mrs Cooper, had seen my children at the weekend…. And then she made an excuse to escape to the sanctuary of her home to seek her husband’s protection. 

While the kids and I waited ten minutes for her return, we gazed around at their riches – the vast amount of land, the large stables, the sumptuous house, the collection of expensive cars…. And we wondered why this family had concocted such a vicious lie in collaboration with the police.  We heard the phone ringing periodically and we saw a woman polishing.  Mrs Dewi Jones returned to feed us a pack of lies and to deny that anyone else was in the house.  She accused Andrew of sitting on her goat field gate last Monday and she said that this was definitely nothing to do with Gareth and that it was not her horse but Dafydd’s.  She was very hazy about what had been stolen and then ended up by saying that she wasn’t one hundred percent sure that it was my two children.  I was invited to meet with her husband at the weekend.

Dad was incensed when he heard the tape and said that we’ll chase it up.

It’s not often that you get your MP sitting in your lounge but this afternoon, to his credit, Gareth Thomas sat with me and dad discussing my dilemma and my concerns of losing my babies to a child batterer, my kids into care and my loss of job.  He was extremely supportive and agreed that the authorities are making much ado about nothing and that I was suffering an unfair stigma.  He assured us that he’d write to the council’s chief executive asking that my children be released from this unwarranted ‘at risk’ label, and he commented that I’m a bit of a thorn in the council’s side.  On asking whom I thought responsible for registering my kids, he didn’t seem surprised when I informed him that, without doubt, the police were to blame.

Shell stood at the kitchen sink quietly washing up when, for no apparent reason, she suddenly asked, “What does revolution mean?”  I was quite taken aback.  Where would such a complex word come from?  It didn’t seem normal for a ten-year old.  I enquired as to why she wanted to know and she said it had just appeared strongly in her head and that a voice had told her to “ask your mum.”  “Wow” I responded, “It means big changes – as in masses of people fighting and conquering the people in government.”  This isn’t the first time the kids have prophesised. They’ve spoken of divine intervention and the ultimate doomsday [in six-years time] if we haven’t by then changed [preferably by verbal persuasion] the majority of the world’s population into Godly citizens. If we fail and doomsday arrives, we will all suffer eternal hell when we die because hell will spill over into heaven since Satan will not have been defeated on Earth.  God bless protesters who risk their lives and freedom challenging authority; and God bless journalists who risk all to tell all.

SEPTEMBER 24^TH 1999

Dad phoned police asking to speak to a senior officer and explained that since Gareth is such a deceitful troublemaker and is having me watched, we feel he is connected to this latest incident and that we want it investigated.  

Almost immediately a constable was sent around to see us - PC 1651 no less – the same one who had accused my kids of being in grave danger from the sea, had said they’d been spotted on CCTV and had threatened the ‘at risk’ register.  Dad and I told the PC that we want details from the police of: Who made the allegations?  What time?  When?  Did police visit the farm? Did the police see the injured horse?  What is the incident number? Et cetera.  We also made it clear that since this is slander and harassment, we want statements from Dewi Jones and his wife, Mrs Cooper and Dafydd. 

Talk about being fed a cock and bull story!  The PC said it’d take a while to find out the police details.  He said, “I’ll have to sift through Saturday to Wednesday…. It’ll take me three hours.”  We pointed out that since the crime is so serious and that a valued horse has been injured, it is inconceivable that my kids weren’t kept there so that police could catch them red handed.  The officer thought they may change their mind after he’s visited them and that it could be a case of mistaken identity.  PC said he’ll have to speak to Gareth first; until we told him that PC 1302 had categorically stated that this has nothing to do with Gareth; then he quickly added, “No but I need to locate this Dewi Jones.  I know where Gareth lives.”  He said he’d go immediately and ask Dewi Jones when they reported it…. “Bloody lying pigs,” I snarled to dad.  “If any of this was genuine, he wouldn’t be rushing of to speak to Dewi Jones, he’d be checking out the police notes.”

After about an hour PC 1651 returned to gush, “She spoke to police; she wants to see you Sunday. Get your facts together; she wants you to take your daughter to make sure it’s her.”  I said I’d do that but that I still want all the details of the police’s version.  He insisted it’d take too long but that if I got details off Cooper and a specific day, he’d do it.  He babbled on, “It’d only take half an hour; there’s only a couple of us on.”  He said that the family had found some of the lost things and that Mrs Jones didn’t want to see my kids up there again.  He repeated that he couldn’t check up the police details because Mrs Jones hadn’t said what day the crime took place.  [I struggled to keep a straight face at what I was hearing from this idiot.  For starters PC1302 had said that the alleged crime was committed at the weekend.  Why didn’t Police Clot 1651 find out more from his colleague?  I didn’t mock him or argue with him because I wanted to get as much incriminating evidence against him as possible.  If I had, he would’ve just buggered off.]  He rambled on about the horse not having been poisoned but something vague about receiving a “feed that it shouldn’t have had,” getting colic and running mad.  He made a point of saying that she stresses this has nothing to do with Gareth.  He assured me he’d show me the incident if she has phoned police; then he emphasized that nothing will come of it except suitable advice and that it is not a criminal matter so it doesn’t involve police.

I got the whole lot on tape for future use.

SEPTEMBER 25^TH 1999

For no reason the devil’s disciple aggressively greeted my with, “You’d better watch Andrew and Shelly because friends of mine have caught them up to no good and the police are watching them.”  I poker facedly replied, “If you or any of your henchmen are targeting any of us, look out.  If anything happens to my kids, I will kill you; if anything happens to me, dad will kill you.”  I was surprised to see him back off a little bit then.

The kids and I went fishing at Llysfaen.  They didn’t even get a bite for the whole session but just as we were about to leave, Andrew exploded with excitement, announcing that he’d caught one and that it was a Perch.  So I said he could perch himself over that gate cos we have to go NOW.

When the babies turned up at 1.00 pm, Jordy tore down my drive like a bat outa hell yelling, “Mum mum mum.”  He would not look back and doggedly refused to kiss his father goodbye.  Melly too was all smiles and her fit little body pulsated with emotion as I took her into my arms.  She also turned away from him when he tried to kiss her.

Jordy and Melly were hyped up for most of the remainder of the day.  Jordan was screaming hysterically and thrashing and Melly sucked ferociously on her fingers.  Jord rigidly refused to use the toilet.  Obviously something has happened [or is happening] in Gareth’s house that bothers them. They often display disturbing behaviour after being with him but they’ve not been quite so bad.  It doesn’t matter what agonies a child goes through during visitation sessions though, judges always rules their continuation and that it is “in the child’s best interests.”

SEPTEMBER 26^TH 1999

The kids, babies and I climbed into a taxi and, armed with secret tape recorder, confronted the wealthy liars of Llysfaen – Dewi Jones of DJ Construction, his wife and two employees.  Talk about contradiction, evasiveness, verbal abuse, aggression and falsehoods!  And in the doing they didn’t even have the courtesy to offer us a cup of tea!  Apparently they all saw Andrew and Shell coming and going all day Saturday and Sunday and Monday afternoon.  My kids were also supposedly seen up there a week prior; and even a year ago they were [according to this lot] told off about messing with their hosepipe in their stables.  They’d allegedly been giving the horses a “feed.”  I was told that police didn’t visit the farm and that the horse cut herself in the stable because she was writhing in agony – she needed stitches.  Cooper said she’d tried all weekend to get hold of police and only managed it on Monday when she reported it to PC1302.  I asked why they weren’t claiming compensation since they know the culprits and the horse is a champion one worth fourteen grand, but the answer was, “We’re not like that.”  Dafydd told me there was no incident number.  Then he said, “They must know themselves that they’re guilty.”  Mrs Jones balled her head off at me telling me to, “Shut up and listen.”  [That’s a sure sign of defeat.]  Then she had the gall to order, “Tell your kids to stay away.  Make sure they don’t come here again.”  Getting louder and more anxious, she screamed, “I’m very busy; I haven’t got time; they’ve been identified by two people; they’ve been seen here a lot.  If they are here again, I’LL call police.  Now GET OFF MY PROPERTY.” 

Graciously I made my goodbyes and remarked to the lady of the house – Mrs Dewi Jones – that this kind of wanton vandalism against a defenceless horse [and a valuable one at that] and theft of horsy items simply cannot be tolerated.  I told her that these two naughty look-a-likes of Andrew and Shell must be caught since they are creating such havoc in Llysfaen amongst residents and may move on to create mayhem in other areas and amongst other prize livestock or even people’s pets.  I explained that I’ve had many dealings of late with the police regarding juvenile delinquents and that I’ve found the authorities to be totally incapable and slip-shod and that to that end I think it is a good idea that I write to the papers to expose our concerns.  I said that with her condemnation of our incompetent police and my views on the same in black and white in the local rag, together we should help force the drive toward a real crack down on crime.  But for some reason, she paled and wasn’t very enthusiastic….

After our enlightening encounter, the kids and I headed towards the bus stop and waited…. fifty minutes, but since no bus was forthcoming, we ended up walking the three and a half miles home.  It took us an hour.  The kids took it in turns to push Jordan in the pram while I carried Mel.  Thankfully it was a mild, dry day but as soon as we stepped into the house, the heavens opened.  It was as if God was holding the rain off just long enough for us to reach our safe haven!

I tried to locate PC 1302 but was told that he’d been transferred to Holywell and that he’s on leave now for a few weeks.  I then spoke with PC 1651 to tell him the date that the crime was reported.  He said he’d get back to me.  I also asked if he’d give PC 1302 a message to phone me.

I told dad of my findings and said that my confidence in the police is absolutely zilch now.  I said, “Lets not beat about the bush, they are a sham and have sucked us into this gross charade.  I hate knowing that they won’t protect us and that [worse] they harass us with fibs and fabrications.”  Even trusting ol’ dad is shocked at this latest incident.  He told me that a friend of his [who owns horses] says that horses don’t get ill because of a ‘feed’.  I told him that this isn’t the first time that Dewi Jones has called cops accusing Andrew and Shell of fictitious crimes and that according to Gareth Williams [who alerted Vera with his ‘concerns’], my kids have been seen up at the stables before letting the horses out and that police were involved.

I told dad I must be within my right to sue the council and associated agencies for uncalled for severe stress, harassment and child abuse since all of this is putting me and Andrew and Shell under considerable strain.  So much so that we all now have complete disregard for officials.  I then said, “Strangely and despite everything, my experience with Gareth has done me good and has made me stronger.  Before I met him I used to be so trusting of everyone.   I never understood the meaning of malicious and vindictive and it’s opened my eyes wide to the questionable activities of our administration.  I now believe the ‘top brass’ are evil thugs.  But this is not a joke.  It is reality.  And it is worrying.” 

I told him of my recent post being intercepted and that all publisher’s envelopes plus unusual looking letters and packages arrived either open [slit down one side] or with evidence of someone’s half-hearted attempt of a re-seal.  I said, “I swear the establishment want me mentally and physically ill and in a mental asylum; which will mean more expense for the taxpayer – for medical and institutional fees and the fees of a children’s home for Andrew and Shell.”  I ranted, “It makes me furious that in the cases of ‘disruptive’ children who are expelled from school and whose parents beg for officialdom intervention and local authority ‘care’ for their kids, SOCIAL SERVICES TURN A BLIND EYE.”  I bleated, “There is no one in authority that I can turn to.  They are all out to get us.  Even a solicitor can’t help us. We are prisoners.  Police and social services watch our every move.  We can barely live off our measly income and I’m now denied the opportunity to work for pocket money.  If they can do this to little old me, what the hell is going on behind closed doors – at boardroom meetings, council offices, and the like?”  I bellowed, “B…. sts all of you.  Burn in hell where you belong.  God will save only the worthy.  You evil scum can torment yourselves in the roaring fires of hell.” 

Hundreds of years ago if you questioned authority you were chucked in prison.  It’s not much different now – your life is made hell, you have no freedom and the more problematic you become, the more you suffer and the bigger the death threat.  The government think they can combat any challenge to their self-seeking, gold-digging, dictatorial regime by murder and by employing more police to protect themselves but they don’t realise that more and more little warriors are protesting vehemently.  We’re all going to die anyway.  Might as well go down fighting - and cause some bad barstewards a few problems in the doing.  The real saints are the ones working quietly behind the scenes towards real change.

Dad tried to calm me down but he was on a losing streak.  I continued, “It’s long overdue for the top brass to be forced to reveal their dubious dealings in detail for public scrutiny.  They MUST be held accountable.  We must stamp out secrecy and sinfulness and they must be obliged to explain their expenditures and actions.  There should be no such thing as ‘spin-doctoring’, just pure and simple truth.  Our government care more about their spin doctors than they do about real doctors.”  I told him, “I never realised I had such strong feelings and willpower but then again I’ve never been threatened with losing the only things that matter to me – my four babies.  I’m just so grateful that Andrew and Shelly have the maturity and insight to deal with all this and that we know that all these things are happening for a reason and that there will eventually be light at the end of the tunnel – for all humankind.”  As I spoke of God, he scoffed and told me that the world has always been like this.  I said, “If you were oppressed you’d fight for freedom and righteousness then.”  He agreed.  I added, “One day you may come to know God.”  But he jeered, “Pigs might fly, but if by some remote chance I do start to believe, I’ll come to you and admit I was wrong.”  I told him that he didn’t need to do that but that I’d sincerely be very happy for him.

SEPTEMBER 27^TH 1999

Jordan must be in love with teletubbies.  He was so engrossed in them that he was totally oblivious of the fact that his little sister was playing with his sacred cars.

I took the heavy artillery [my dad] for a meeting with the solicitor.  We briefed him on the Dewi Jones slander incident and the role of the police and I gave him copies of the tape recordings and transcript.  John is aware of my suspicions of a conspiracy to displace my children and that I feel the police have an active role in the murky proceedings and that this latest questionable affair just strengthens my belief that Gareth is pulling strings and that the police are guilty of wrongdoing.  Dad and I asked about suing the Jones family for slander in a bid to get to the truth of the matter and that a public enquiry into the police side of it is warranted particularly as it smells of an abuse of power.  John informed us that libel cases are for the rich and famous who have reputations at stake and that even if we did have the ten thousand quid or so to chuck away, the other parties are perfectly entitled to remain silent throughout the proceedings.  [That little ‘right’ is glaring proof that the State doesn’t want to stop criminality.  Accused persons should be forced to answer questions and if they still refuse, they should receive a hefty prison sentence for contempt of court.]  He told me to stop looking over my shoulder and to get on with my life.  He said that you can’t challenge the police authority and that they have certain powers of privacy.  He suspects it was just a couple of Gareth’s police pals having a joke on me and that the only thing we can do is complain to an inspector who will be able to create a stir amongst the lower ranks, but who doesn’t have to divulge details of the case.  He said that it won’t be on any computer file or any other record. 

I got a sick feeling in my stomach at that moment that John really isn’t on my side all; that he is more of a ‘community’ solicitor, protecting the interests of the authorities.  He is too quick to fob me off; too quick to tell me that I can’t challenge the authorities - that they have the right to withhold info…. Andrew has doubted John for a while now and says that I should get rid of him because he’s working for Gareth.  I brought up the special number that Gareth shows police whenever he is stopped for speeding or reckless driving and which always guarantees his release with no further questions asked.  John wonders if Gareth is afforded some special privileges simply because he has done some specialist work in the past for the police. He said that if that was the case he wouldn’t be allowed to overuse or abuse such a perk or there’d be a scandal. 

He says he still hasn’t received the photos from CID.  [I’m convinced now that he hasn’t even requested them.]  I remarked, “I wonder why it takes so long for institutions to release info.  Is it the hope that the requester simply gets fed up of waiting and drops it?  Is it to hide corruption or incompetence or are they just too idle to respond?”  I updated him on the ceaseless prying of social services and that I believe that this is not about the care and welfare of my kids but more to do with control and intrusion and that I must be within my rights to object.  I protested, “Protecting privacy is a fundamental democratic principle.  The pressure they put us under and the way we are unjustly incriminated is intolerable and scandalous and enough to drive anyone insane.”   John says that my problem is that I don’t conform.  Maybe; but that’s no excuse for oppression.  They cannot be allowed to get away with this.

I’m seriously suspecting that John is my enemy despite the fact he keeps claiming to be on my side.  I think he must be firmly in the evil clutches of them.  My belief compounded when he did a U-turn on the official social service records on GW’s kids.  Now he says that he doesn’t feel it necessary to ask the court for them because we have nothing to suggest that he has abused his kids except for gossip. I’m almost convinced that he’s either been bribed or threatened by Gareth or his henchmen to fob me off because this is a big come down from his earlier sound bite that disclosure of the records could “strongly affect the proceedings.”  I’m wondering if I should now consider looking for a new solicitor; but maybe I’m over-reacting and being too critical; after all he’s the legal beagle, not me.  I think I should give him more time.  I guess I’m finding it hard to believe that John could be doing the dirty on me.  You hear about corruption within the police and social services etc, but you don’t hear about many solicitors being corrupt.  I asked him to phone the headmistress himself to find out what she knows as it isn’t gossip since there are official records.  He said that he wouldn’t phone but that he would write to her. 

I read about the extreme hardships of the ordinary Arabs in Saddam Hussein’s Iraqi male society.  Hussein just wants to sell Iraqi oil for cash to spend as he pleases – on weapons.  Iraq export over five billion pounds of oil from its battered oilfields.  Yet because the government must pay thirty percent of its earnings in reparations to Kuwait, cover the cost of the UN’s monitoring programme and repair its oil industry, the sum available for food, medicine, civilian reconstruction, household and school goods was only one hundred and twenty pounds per person for six months.  The special commission Unscom has failed in its aim to locate and destroy the regime’s chemical and biological weapons.  Civilians were forced to sell off all their material possessions to buy their children tickets out of their country, while brand new police vehicles dominated pot-holed streets.  All but Hussein’s favoured sections of the civil service and military have been reduced to penury, where university graduates become little better than cab drivers.

A boy named Raad touches the heartstrings in his cries of, “The other students said run after the English reporter and tell him our problem.  It is unfair.  We cannot even get Thomas Hardy.  You must tell your government to let us have books.  You must tell you government to let us visit.  We are human beings aren’t we?  For God’s sake let us come.”

An injustice is an internal powerful silent attacker, which grows stronger and more deadly daily.  It has the power to kill its perpetrator or it victim.  The bigger the injustice, the bigger the potential for violent retaliation, or self destruction.  It is unforgivable and inconceivable that the few in our world have so many riches that they destroy it while one billion people globally earn less than three hundred pounds per year.  Such greedy creatures [especially the royals] should hang their heads in shame and should take note of the poverty-stricken suffering mortals who also share this planet.  Money doesn’t buy you happiness; it buys you self-destruction.  Materialism is worthless greed.  Happiness is friendship, love, freedom, family and everything in moderation. 

It’s all very well wealthy world leaders, corporate bosses and business executives living the high life at the expense of ‘ordinary’ beings, but have any of them stopped to think about the kind of diseased destroyed deadly domain they are leaving to their own children and grandchildren?  Businesses control economies, their directors have easy access to government trade ministers, more and more businesses are merging to become even more dominant and powerful.  They think money talks.  WRONG.  GOD talks…. Fifty of the world’s larges economies are corporations.  The sales of the world’s largest companies exceeds the GNP of the world’s smallest countries…. Alarmingly globalisation is spiralling out of control and is a recipe for worldwide catastrophe as we witness massive consumer unrest and revolt.  Greedy corporate bosses and government tyrants, who are all murderers, had better understand - and swiftly - that they are NOT more powerful than the world’s people collectively.  They’d better realise also that they and their families stand to lose just as much as us peasants in terms of loss of life, home and environment; and that if they continue along this road to ruin, ALL of our children of today and the tomorrows face intolerable suffering in the abode of the damned. Oh, God bless the day when countries are governed by wise, honest and humane rulers, leaders who bestow fairness and propriety on ALL citizens and who class all subjects as equals.

SEPTEMBER 28^TH 1999

Another dreaded day in court.  It was a nightmare beginning.  I arrived at the bus stop at 9.20 am, but by 10.00 am the bus still hadn’t arrived and I was now flapping since my appointment was at 10.00 am.  I scrambled to the nearby phone box, hoping dad could take me, but just as I was dialling, it came.  I was in such a state of panic and relief that I dropped the phone and ran, but as I paid the driver I remembered my pound coin abandoned in the phone box.  The driver kindly insisted that I go back for it and he promised that he wouldn’t take off without me.  We arrived in Abergele at 10.20 am and the bus driver obligingly dropped me off outside the court.  He said, “I’m like a father to you today.”  I replied, “You’re an angel.”

Desperately in need of a battery re-charge I headed for the tea machine when I learned that my solicitor had just nipped back to the office.  But no matter which coin I tried to feed the obstinate thing, none were swallowed and all were spat back out at me.  Next minute my tormentor appeared out of the blue with a fistful of coins to assist me, followed by his solicitor who was also offering help.  Can you believe it?  Men in smart suits behaving like gentlemen!  [But only in public, of course.]  Behind closed doors and in the comfort of secrecy, all is quite different.  I grabbed my brew and legged it. 

Later John told me that Gareth is pushing for more contact now and wants residence ultimately.  He said the ‘at risk’ label is a vital part of the proceedings and that the Comprehensive Risk Assessment will largely determine final decisions for contact and/or residence.  Although I was very well aware of all that I still felt a lump spring into my throat and a knot appear in my stomach.  He told me that the opposition have agreed to ask the school for records on social services’ involvement regarding his kids.  ‘Yeah right!  These are just more delay tactics.  They’re hoping I’m going to give up asking for them,’ I thought to myself.

My nagging doubts about John returned.  Why is he fobbing me off re the records?  He then piled on the usual pressure urging me to agree to more contact, rather than asking the court to decide.  Extremely reluctantly I agreed to extend the Thursday visitation at church and have now been ordered back to court in two weeks time for a hearing to decide if the anti-Christ should get more contact at this stage.  I have to write another statement outlining why I bitterly oppose further contact.  Oh for crying out loud.  This is all so wrong and unreal.  I feel as if I’m existing in a bottomless black abyss which just gets blacker and bleaker.  I would be deliriously happy if the daughter of the fiend’s solicitor or the daughter of the pompous magistrate dated Gareth.  They’d soon realise that she has no support when she tries to get rid of him due to his hellish behaviour.  Police won’t protect her and incompetent authorities side with her tormentor.  Maybe then we’d see some changes.   Lawyers and judges allow vermin to pray repeatedly.  If their family were directly affected, there’d soon be eruptions.  But it will happen soon because those people support criminality, and the present trend is that decent people are vanishing in droves.  The mere fact that John refuses to request those social services records through the court makes me almost convinced that John is working for Gareth and not me. 

On the way home I again asked him to ask for the records through the court.  He said he would next time we were in court.  Could it be possible that I am at the mercy of a secret underworld gang?  I know that the police are up to no good and are aiding and abetting Gareth, but is John a ‘member’?  Is the fire chief?  Is Mo’s manager, John Evans?  Is the anonymous security bloke at the council’s CCTV room?  And what about the mysterious person[s] in Royal Mail who is/are vetting my post?  And what about the benefits official, John Drew?  If my hunches are correct and they [or some of them] are Masons, I hope to God that one day these despicable creatures’ wives/girlfriends and those ‘brethren’ who do have a sense of morality and whose consciences overrule their cowardice, will show strength of character and blow the whistle.  God does not want secret seedy dirty dealers on his planet.  He HATES liars and evil-doers.  Just think; that lot would be in jail for gross professional misconduct and perverting the course of justice. Now that WOULD be justice and a monumental step forward into God’s new righteous world.

As I collected my precious little babies form nursery, the fat b…. sailed past in his car, smirking.  There was no reason for him to be in that area; he just wanted to rub salt in the wounds.  He knows that the court’s final decision could swing either way and that I’m desperately hanging on by my fingernails.  As I walked down my road, the skunk breezed past me again with his stereo blasting out through the window.

Andrew and Shell had a bit of a trying time too – at their granddad’s.  Apparently dad had pumped Andrew about ghosts and had insisted that there are no such things and that there is no God.  It would seem that he’d gone around the houses trying to get Andrew to admit that he’d started the fire.  Dad mockingly asked if the spirits have wings, if they could fly, if he could have their autograph…  Shell too was grilled, with the implication that the kids had in fact been up at the stables and were guilty of injuring that horse and of stealing.  Andrew and Shell straight-facedly told their granddad that they have seen God and the devil and that they weren’t at the stables.  Andrew insisted that he wasn’t responsible for the fire.  Then in a bid to drop the interrogation he tactically made an excuse that he had to visit the toilet.  I joked, “I wish the devils would make their acquaintance with granddad.  Then he’d believe us.  Then again he’d probably just think he’d had one too many whiskies.”  I wasn’t going to clash with dad over it.  I think the kids handled him pretty well.  I was a little surprised though that he is still so trusting of the authorities and that he believes Andrew and Shell are guilty despite black and white overwhelming evidence of a fabricated horsy story.  Just shows how hard it is to grasp the possibility of our police being corrupt and that it is easier to blame kids – just because they’re kids.  Proving corruption is another matter though.

I watched a documentary about London’s ‘smog’ problem in 1952 where twelve thousand people died but only four thousand were officially recognised.  The rest, they said, had been killed by a flu epidemic.  Churchill’s government didn’t care that burning coal caused it.  One conservative MP declared, “Although I may be told that the smoke from my coal fire assists in poisoning the people outside, I prefer that very much to being poisoned myself by a gas fire inside my own home.”  Nasty geyser.  Most politicians these days have the same attitude.

SEPTEMBER 29^TH 1999

We were visited by another LEA official; the person responsible for inspecting the progress of secondary school home scholars.  Dewi Williams turned up to check Andrew’s work.  As they shook hands I couldn’t help thinking in amusement that you wouldn’t see that kind of polite interaction between pupil and head at school.  I was pleasantly surprised by the visit.  I’d earlier been bracing myself for hostility and opposition and I dreaded more battles, but Dewi Williams was very supportive and encouraging.  He acknowledged that Andrew’s standard of work is very good and that both he and Shell are mature and able to speak out freely.  At the end I felt that the session couldn’t have gone any better and I found myself thanking my lucky stars.  At last a ray of light was shining down on us.

After tea I sat with Jordan and his ‘What’s that?’ book.  He’d been doing quite well with it last week but tonight he only managed to get three objects right.  Hope he doesn’t repeat tonight’s dismal effort when the H/V inspects him!

It is the labour party circus.  At the rostrum they rabbit on about nothing and ridicule the opposition. They should jolly well be ashamed of themselves backbiting like a bunch of unruly school children.  Blair is spending cash on causes of crime and free locks for pensioners.  He emotionally insists he wants to set Britain free.  He wants to reduce poverty.  He’s so unhappy about it.  He’s on a moral crusade.  He preaches that the class war is over.  They reckon he’ll still be PM in another ten years cos he has so much charisma and commands such a rapturous speech.  The people don’t give a brass monkey about rhetoric or pretty politicians who think they are masters of the universe – they’re more like masters of the deadbeat dummies.  We want truth, equality, transparency, fair rules – for ALL. 

Prescott flatters himself prattling on about his ‘security’ reasons for taking a chauffeur-driven car ride to conference.  Who’d bother attacking that insignificant lying self-serving arrogant bloater?  The only people who live in genuine fear for their lives are those who courageously challenge our corrupt government.  And it is those people who are in danger – not from Joe Public, but from the government itself and its lackeys.  God bless the day when all government and civil service documents are laid open for public scrutiny.  It will happen one day when more and more ‘yes’ agents and those swearing allegiance to the queen and obedience to the establishment get sick of the abhorrent goings on in secret and find the strength to do the right thing - obey God and snitch on their masters.  What a field day we’ll have when the press get hold of top secret files…. And real justice begins…. Blair can demonstrate his desire to reduce poverty by digging deep into his own pockets.

Straw proudly announces that he’s putting five thousand police on the streets.  He can put five million on but it won’t make a scrap of difference.  We need LAW ENFORCEMENT – for all. The government can’t fix anything, they band-aid it.  No one bothers to vote cos all parties are the same self-servers – people who are pally with and who answer to gangster business chiefs.  All they care about is what money buys them. 

Their good life accelerates global warming which doesn’t concern them; but they will care when the polar ices melt, the seas are flooded with fresh water, the ‘conveyor’ system [which brings warm seas up from the equator and keeps Britain temperate] STOPS, Europe is plunged into an ice trough and the world’s destructive weather patterns cause mass mayhem – FOR EVERYONE.  Then they’ll be sorry.

SEPTEMBER 30^TH 1999

At church, bonehead accused me of dating a jungle bunny.  He flew into a rage and grabbed  Jordan from the double buggy.  The pram seat cracked as Jordan was jerked from it.  Jord’s foot got trapped.  Both babies looked shocked and close to tears.  Melly fell forward.  I just caught her before she toppled out.  I wanted to hug and comfort them both and take them back home with me immediately but the beast snatched them from me and stormed off yelling some kind of obscenity.  I could only stand and watch with tears stinging my eyes and a lump in my throat.  One of the other mothers came up to comfort me.