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Human, mother, wife, home educator, learner, photographer, writer, reader, mind reader, critic, defender, champion.

Saturday, 24 November 2012

The Welsh Problem - Part One

Imagine a scenario...


The government decides that all parents not choosing to have school dinners, i.e. those preparing packed lunches for their children themselves, must register with the local council, even though they are declining a service (i.e. school dinners) rather than being provided with one. A bit odd, but let's go with it. The parent's failure to register with the council will result in their children being forced to eat school dinners instead, effectively punishing the child for the parent's misdemeanour. School dinners could also be forced on the children if the parents supply the council with false or "inadequate" information. Essentially, a parent could be criminalised on a whim, despite fulfilling their parental duty to feed their child. This can't be right!



On top of this, to make sure that the contents of the lunch box meet a new state-determined, nutritional standard, the council will be given the authority to inspect the food cupboards and fridge in your home. Instead of sending a nutritional expert, as you might expect if such a thing became law, they will send someone whose business is school dinners or maybe someone whose usual job is in child protection (just to make you feel really bad about having the gall to feed your own children). The lunch box inspectors will be from the same department which is currently under threat of having its duty to provide school dinners removed for failure to adequately feed children.

These inspectors also want to meet your child. Let's hope your child isn't shorter, taller, fatter or thinner than average. Who knows what they might say to them during the interview? People can be so cruel. And yes, I did say interview. What if the inspectors find your child is a little overweight and spot a cake on your shopping receipt? Will they listen to your explanation that it was a birthday treat or will they write a report stating that cake appears to be a regular feature on your menu? Will they be able to suspend all your food preparing duties? It's really not clear from the proposals. What if the lunch box inspector is one of those people who lives on soup and lettuce? Will they bring their biased views into your private family life? What if you're vegetarian? What if you're vegan? Your local inspector could be a rampant carnivore who is totally ignorant about alternative diets. Oh no, the government can't really interfere in private family decisions, can it?

Finally, the council will be able to deny or revoke your registration which means that far from being a simple registration scheme (as if that wasn't bad enough), it's actually a licensing scheme. And they want 12 weeks to make their minds up, but it's not clear whether you'd be able to continue to provide packed lunches or whether you'd have to wait for permission while your child ate school dinners. In essence, as a parent choosing to feed your children yourself, you are expected to submit yourself, your child and your home to monitoring and apply for a licence to parent. After all, feeding your child is just part of your parental duty like everything else you are expected to provide for them - clothing, a home, love, an education. Why should you need a licence to feed your child when everyone else can get away with no monitoring at all just because their children eat school dinners? Surely, that's extremely unfair. All parents should be trusted to feed their children, at least until such times as a concern is raised to the contrary. Isn't the presumption of innocence the basis of law in this country?

There are a few more points to note. The rationale for this scheme is that councils have a duty to identify those children who are not receiving a lunch at all. Apparently, it would be much easier for them to compel parents by law to register their packed lunch provision than it would be to write to all schools asking them to provide details of total children, total school dinners and total packed lunches. With the second approach, a simple sum could be used to determine if anybody is left out. And let's face it, it would be a huge failure on the part of schools if any children were unaccounted for! Seems so simple, doesn't it? I wonder why they don't go for that approach instead. But no. The first option of introducing legislation to force parents to register for a non-service is the bizarre solution they've come up with. Well, that's the rationale for the compulsory register. But what about the licensing? Sorry, totally stumped with that one. It must just be an attempt to control and monitor parents. Or possibly that the council (and the inspector) have more to gain if we invest in their school dinners. What else could it be?

Even those whose children do eat school dinners would want to hear about this injustice. Even they wouldn't support this government interference, would they? Can they be relied upon to stand shoulder to shoulder against the government alongside the lunch box brigade? It might be lunchboxes today, but tomorrow could find us being inspected to see if we love our kids enough, or if our house is the right temperature, or if our children's clothes are adequate. Will the mums and dads stand united to protect all our families from unwarranted state intrusion? I wonder...

Now, in case you're wondering what the hell this is all about, this is the basis for the Welsh problem, which is not an imaginary scenario, but a government proposed reality. It just doesn't happen to be about school lunches. Look out for part two.

Wednesday, 22 June 2011

Seems I've been ranting elsewhere lately...

I love a rant and a moan, me. But I haven't blogged for a while. I blame Facebook. When I rant there people rant back. Or sometimes agree. And it draws me in. Sometimes though, it's nice to just throw ideas into the wilderness and not have anyone notice. It's a bit like having the freedom to stand on top of a hill to shout at clouds. It's liberating. But since freedom seems to send me scurrying back to my box, I'll post something pointful (which is a word if I want it to be).

My other rants have been tamed into reasonably articulate newspaper articles. I am a bit of a Lefty, but that beats being a blowhole. I wrote the articles for The Medway Broadside, an independent community newspaper written solely by volunteers.

The first was about the provision of analogue hearing aids. Or how some departments of the NHS were denying patients a choice about their treatment. You can read it here.

The second was about a brilliant up and coming artist called Daisy Parris and the exhibition she had back in February. She is currently exhibiting at the Deaf Cat Cafe in Rochester. Her work will be there until the 10th of July so make sure you get down there for a look. That article can be viewed here.

The third, which I'd actually forgotten about in all the disappointment, was an article about the AV referendum. You can read that one here, not that it matters any more.

The last article I wrote, which featured in the most recent print edition, was about youth clubs, cuts to youth services and the message it sends to our young people. But mostly, it was about how one community sought to help the local kids rather than demonise them. You can read it here.

My photos keep turning up in unexpected places too, most recently inside the sleeve of the new Lupen Crook album, Waiting for the Post-Man, which you must buy immediately as it's stark raving genius. If you don't want to take my word for it, there are a few reviews around. You could start with this one which is pretty thorough.

That is all.

Sunday, 13 February 2011

Twelve

Saturday's child. Five days early. Seven pounds, nine ounces. Ten fingers, ten toes. Jet black hair. See what happens when you're fed on milk and kisses and given room to grow....





One...
Two...




Three...



Four...

 Five...

 Six...



Seven...



Eight...

Nine...

Ten...




Eleven...


Happy Birthday to my baby. Twelve today.

Today will bring me sunshine because you are here xo

UPDATE: Twelve...

Wednesday, 3 November 2010

Love and Hope

Today has been a tough one. I don't believe in gods. It seems almost beyond reason that I should. Why would any god create something so utterly beautiful if he meant to destroy it? No, I don't believe in gods. And so I don't have the comfort of unwavering faith to still me. I have instead an easily broken heart and a lump in my throat. I have tears, some spilled, some frozen, in waiting. I skitter about in the peripheral vision of a friend, helpless and horrified. I have hoped with all my might. I have lingered over photographs and sent my invitation, and if that doesn't do it, nothing will. I have sent thoughts and love into the wild. I have chewed my restless fingers and shaken my head in anger. I've been here before.

Tonight I hope there is a god because I'll spend the night on my fucking knees praying. I will be all heart and silence. Any god who pulls off a miracle tonight, will have my conviction by morning.

Sunday, 22 August 2010

Medway City



I tumbled down the stairs, eager to find out what had just thudded onto my doormat. It sounded quite heavy. Surely it must be the weighty brochure I'd been expecting from Medway Council. A brochure which explained the benefits of city status should Medway enter its bid, and win, with a great big questionnaire at the back and lots of blank space for the much-valued residents to give their views. I peeked along the hallway, and there it was, on the doormat, its glossy front page sparkling in the sunlight. I flicked through it. Could I wait until I'd eaten to fill this in? No, I decided. I couldn't. It was just too exciting. I went in search of my favourite pen, a massive grin on my face. Just as I turned to the first page, I woke up.

Hmmmph. So not happy. I'd fallen asleep reading Medway Matters, a shameful Pravda-esque attempt to keep residents informed of the council's work. Somewhere between reading what young people had been told to think and wondering what percentage of Medway's residents were likely to have realised that it was a propaganda rag, my brain had shut down. On the plus side, the editor had said that Medway residents had already been consulted about city status, and that 68% were in favour of Medway's bid, which would've been nice had all Medway's residents had their say. But still, 400 people had a say, so that's not bad is it? So 272 people out of Medway's quarter of a million residents are in favour. And of course, there's Will Young. He backs the bid. So do Status Quo. Damn good of them really. And let's not forget The Saturdays. I mean, when 2012 comes around, and say Medway does get its city status, will anyone remember who the fuck The Saturdays are? I don't even know who they are, but they back the bid for my town to be turned into one fifth of a city, so I should be thankful, right? Well I'm not. Because I wasn't asked. I don't know a single person who was.

So, how would Medway Council prove that its bid is well supported if it doesn't consult its residents? Well, in the aforementioned propaganda rag, there is a bunting flag, which we are allowed to cut out and colour in, before sending it off to Gun Wharf. Isn't that nice?

There was me thinking the council was ignoring us all, but I was mistaken. The council is treating us like idiots.

Sunday, 20 June 2010

Happy Father's Day





















My Dad threw John McCririck out of his shop for taking bets in the corner.

















My Dad threatened to set fire to a man in a wheelchair for being rude to a checkout girl.

















My Dad told an extremist minister to fuck off for preaching racial hatred on his doorstep.















My Dad was better than Gene Hunt. Yeah, you heard me.

Miss you always, Dad xo