Travelling to Vancouver aka New Westminster, British Columbia

Addendum:

Well, travelling home to the UK I met two lovely chatty Canadian women who enlightened me that I had not seen Vancouver at all. I had spent two weeks in New Westminster, a different city to Vancouver. They enlightened me that I had not seen beautiful Vancouver and that is why I had been so confused and not enamored with the locality at all. They showed me pictures of beaches and mountainous terrain that was stunning. Now it all began to make better sense and I felt I was not going mad. It was further highlighted by my Virgin flight companion, Tanya, who again reiterated what I had missed out on and showed me beautiful pictures of her own stay in the real Vancouver. It was a long way to travel and not be immersed in the real beauty of Vancouver.

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Sorry to anyone I may have offended or insulted with this particular blog...but sadly this was my experience of the Vancouver I ended up in!

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Nestled on the west coast just above the US border between pine forests, working rivers, industry and bridges for as far as the eye can see is Vancouver. There must be over eight different design bridges I can view from the penthouse apartment I am staying in. The locals try to tell this true Brit that Vancouver, British Columbia is just like England but am sorry to enlighten those of you living with this illusion that is it nothing like my England or the my UK.

Surrounded by wide roads, freeways, American style road signs, scarlet fire hydrants on every street corner, houses that resemble the east coast of the US and primarily Virginia and row after row of high-rise apartment buildings and neon this is Vancouver. Out walking I come face to face, on every cross street, with the classic American “don’t walk tangerine hand sign” resembling the Arabic Hamsa which symbolises protection. Then when I am given permission to walk I see the USA white walking man; nothing close to my UK. Oh and I almost forgot, no roundabouts, but the other classic American four way stop. Not to mention the yankee range of stores.

Us Brits do not have anywhere close to the range of stores or the size. The breath taking variety and range of produce in each supermarket here is Vancouver can only be compared to the US, not my England. The weather is about the closest comparable to England. Seasons appear same time of year although Vancouver winters can be much harder and colder than the UK. Summers tend to be warmer.

Areas of Vancouver are very pretty and obviously wealthy but many areas are extremely industrial and grey. The river is a working river with tug boats pulling and pushing containers in and out all day. The freight train runs day and night with a slow low long horn blasting out across the city every few minutes and runs all over town. It’s good to see a hard working river but it does not paint a pretty watercolour. Someone commented to me that Vancouver is ugly and grey in the rain and I have to say I agree.

An attempt has been made at the waterside areas to make attractive eating spots and interesting walkways, but sadly not my cuppa tea, although I have drunk an awful lot of tea since arriving in a variety of vessels and situations but none of them served in a bone china English tea cup. And just like the USA tea is poor and weak and not English at all. I have bee lucky enough to drink good ole English Typhoo but still not as good as my home brewed PG Tips. Cheers.

Guest Post: An Unwanted Experience

Controlled
Abused
Feeling worthless
How could this happen
I thought he loved me
Respected me
Wanted me
Left in a room
With a man I hardly knew
A camera
In the centre
Filming this unwanted experience
Used
Abused
And fed up
It’s my sanity that he took
Need to escape
But where to
He controls every move I make

Guest post

A deeply heartfelt piece of poetry written, & published anonymously with permission, by a young sexually exploited teenager during one of my workshops  x

Child Sexual Exploitation work in the North of the UK by the Seaside

Emerging from the Victorian town amongst a light breeze, sunshine and clear blue sky, we suddenly dropped sharply down, carefully excavating hair pin bends until we reached the once pirate infested fishing village. The sapphire ocean ebbed and waned quietly and serenely across the perfect golden sands, around the awesome and dramatic bay swung way out to a rugged breath taking peninsular. I gasped with delight. Seagulls squawked as they circled above gaudy striped wind breakers and deck chairs laden with sun soakers while children with brightly coloured buckets and spades were emphatically digging moats and building sand castles. It was a scene of sheer beauty and personified the stereotypical English seaside postcard. My tummy fluttered with childhood memories.

The promenade and pier were alive with locals and visitors enjoying the rays and wares of this beautiful coastline. Jolly round rotund shirtless men and boys chattered and debated fishing equipment and surf wear. Strappy topped mothers and children perused flip flops, sunhats and beach balls. Some ate cones with flakes, others fish and chips. Some enjoyed a beer in the pub garden, others a cola at the Surfs Up Café.

As I devoured my toastie perched on the promenade I watched this English street parade with glee. Dogs on and off leads scurried in and out of legs with as much excitement as the little children; they were all glad to be at the beach on this beautiful English summers day. There was a hubbub of chatter and laughter. Traditional old English carousel music gave a back drop to the scene while the continuous squeak of the quaint Victorian cable car transported families twenty yards up the sheer cliff face to the town centre. Ye Olde Sweet Shop was abuzz with children deciding whether they wanted to savor lemon bonbons, cola drops or fluorescent sticks of rock from large glass jars, lined up like soldiers on parade on all four walls of this little brightly painted beach hut.

The promenade was alive with the smell of vinegar, strawberry sauce, the ocean and sweat. I loved every single minute of this wonderful sensory experience. My brain was alert with childhood memories and cravings. My camera was on overload as I ventured out onto the pier and felt the sea breeze brush my face and whizz through my hair. What a good feeling that was. The simple wrought iron girders were decorated with funky and topical knitted samplers made by anonymous crafters who attached them to the girders in the depth of the night. Everyone was in awe and no one knew how they got there which made them all the more wonderful. Cameras flashed, visitors giggled at the quirky array and their was much chatter about this secret sect that only came out at night.

The horizon was crystal clear and crammed with tankers and ships delivering goods in and out of the port just along the coastline. It was a breath taking sight below a clear cobalt sky. Not a cloud was in sight. I turned and looked back at the promenade and it was like viewing a water colour painting in a gallery by a celebrated artist. I stood still for many minutes just taking in this unexpected landscape, breathing the sea air and watching the sheer simple enjoyment of being at the beach.

You see I had come to this haven for three days (after a long five hour drive) to facilitate workshops with young adult victims and survivors of child abuse and exploitation. I had no idea I would be faced with such a beautiful canvas amongst my important work. What an amazing juxtaposition I was in the middle of. The workshops were powerful and a great success; the young people were phenomenal and my hosts were amazing. What a privilege on all accounts and levels to deliver this important work just outside this beautiful picture postcard harbour and coastline with my fabulous partner in crime. We had no idea we would be able to relax in such a beautiful haven.

I know we made a fantastic duo, we definitely made a difference and left behind tips, knowledge and a way forward for the fab young people we worked with. We will definitely be back to continue our good work very soon.

Child lapping like a dog in my Classroom

This little three-year-old boy attended the nursery I was managing and was seen by a nursery nurse to be kneeling on the floor and “lapping” like a dog from one of the children's toilets. In order to be able to witness, record and report this incident I needed to witness this for myself. I asked the staff to let me know when they saw this happening again and to come and get me straight away. A little later on the little boy was seen to be "lapping" from the toilet again. I hurried to the children's bathrooms and to my horror saw with my very eyes this dear little boy with his head down the toilet drinking the water.

I stooped beside him and asked "what are you doing" he replied “having a drink”. When I asked him why he was drinking from the toilet he replied: “this is what we do at home”. I was actually dumbstruck, sad and speechless. I told him he could always ask for a drink from a member of staff in the nursery and that at nursery he didn't need to drink from the toilet ever again. From now on this little mite was reassured that it was safe to ask for a drink when at the nursery. 

After much discussion and meetings with mum and a variety of agencies, it materialised that this little boy's mother was a single parent, cocaine user and alcoholic and at home she strapped this little boy and his brother into high chairs in a spare room during the into day in order that she could sleep off her substance abuse habit. At night she tied both boys down in their cots so they did not disturb her social life and she could happily partake in her cocaine and alcohol habits.

we learnt she refused them drinks so that she did not have to change their nappies. The eldest boy who attended my nursery was so thirsty each day but was terrified to ask for a drink for fear of being reprimanded and that is why he drank from the toilet secretly in order to quench his thirst. At home, they had to sneak drinks and could often only get water by drinking from the toilet.

A written referral was made to social care and the assessment and intervention team was informed and a child protection procedure began. with a Team Around the Child meeting (TAC) called as a matter of urgency. The children were put on a multiagency Child Protection Plan which involved the nursery manager, health visitor, children's centre manager, general practitioner, police and social worker. Regular Child in Need (CIN) meetings was called and sadly for their health, wellbeing and safety, these two little boys were taken into long-term foster care and eventually adopted away from the area. 

Their mother was offered long-term mental health, substance abuse and parenting support.

Coercive Control - "Letter of Apology" from an Abuser & Psychopath - Domestic Abuse

2011

Hello Angel

I cant even begin to imagine how disappointed you must be with my selfish behaviour and unreasonable acts. I am dead ashamed of myself. I couldn't believe my selfish and unreasonable acts and all I said last night. I lay in bed and asked myself "what was that I just did". There was no answer other than me being a selfish fool and a greedy idiot.

I am deeply sorry about my behaviour, my everything last night. I wasn't thinking straight. I realize I was being unkind and unreasonable to the one person who has done so much for me and my life, not just financially, but who has also turned my life around to be a better man. Am so disheartened about my acts and I just want you to find a place in your heart to forgive me.

I have transferred an extra £50.00 into your account and kindly, please, do not transfer it back to me. You deserve every penny of mine. Please, I am so so sorry.

Its a bad bit of me that behaves so unreasonably when it comes to money matters; I know I need help with that and mostly with my anger management. Kindly forgive me and help me to manage my anger and seek help for this dirty behaviour. Am so ashamed of myself.

Angel please forgive me.

I love you and am sorry for not treating you as the Angel you are.

xxx


Because I wanted the house to be at peace, I forgave him once again!

Safeguarding & Protecting Children in Regulated Activities

As an education consultant, qualified teacher, child protection and safeguarding officer, safeguarding children in my care over the years has been one of the hardest jobs I have ever had to do. Over my 30 years in education I have worked on some extremely challenging child protection and safeguarding cases covering serious neglect, paedophilia, grooming, substance abuse and serious domestic violence . Even as an experienced practitioner managing large day nurseries and working in schools all over the world, making a child protection referral is not only hard to do, but also unpleasant and scary.

Within my many years of training, it is stressed, I have a duty of care to the children I work with and should comply with the early years foundation stage statutory framework. As a professional I work by these policies at all times and would never practice any other way. The welfare of every child is always my main, immediate and first concern. I am an experienced, confident practitioner who doesn't have issue with standing out, coming forward and speaking up; many less experienced may not be so bold.

Some signs of child abuse are difficult to spot and assess. Some signs can resemble other issues. Covert child abuse is not simple. Young children cannot and sometimes will not disclose. It's impossible for very young children to verbalize. Some are groomed to keep it secret. Less experienced practitioners may find it hard to assess and also be scared to report in case they get it wrong. There is still a taboo and silence around child sex abuse; it's hard to believe it's happening right under your nose. It's hard to discuss it and hard to discuss with parents and carers. Paedophilia is a very uncomfortable subject and for less experienced practitioners, hard to assess, recognise and report.

Safeguarding Children does not just cover child abuse any more, it encompasses every aspect of keeping children and young people safe. Safeguarding covers every aspect of a practitioners day from door safety, stranger danger and managed risk to sun safety, safe equipment and health, and this just outlines a very small proportion of the role of leadership and management in early years settings and schools. Safeguarding today is an onerous and complex issue and one is required to be vigilant, aware, confident and buckets full of common sense.

Whistleblowing is another difficult and unsafe area within safeguarding and child protection. The whistleblower has no safe place and is not protected in law and cannot currently remain anonymous. As an experienced leader I have blown the whistle when practice has not been safe for children but soon after I have been thrown to the wolves with no protection from anyone and had to resign from my employment. Lesser experienced bold ethical leaders would chose not to come forward and whistleblow. Many could not afford to lose the job or stand the stress. I was extremely ill after whistleblowing an extremely unsafe environment for children in my care.

Referring is a complex process also. It requires keeping your wits about you, remaining calm and level headed and being confident in your practice. Telephoning First Response and reporting to the Local Area Designated Officer (LADO) the concerns you have is daunting and the process that follows is daunting and scary. The note taking and accurate confidential recording of conversations with all parties concerned in draining and exhausting in itself. Advising the parents, attending Team around the Child Meetings with all the professionals working with the child and completing referral forms and issuing comprehensive reports is hugely challenging for an experienced practitioner let alone an inexperienced one.

There is a major argument and requirement for mandatory reporting of known abuse in all regulated activities. This would require all practitioners in regulated activities to report abuse by law; currently it is discretionary. Yes, unbelievably, it is discretionary, so why would anyone report when they are scared in the first place, have no idea of the process once they have reported and if they are wrong could lose their job, business, reputation or all three.

All establishments working with vulnerable children and adults must have safeguarding policies and procedures in place but these are only as good as the individuals implementing them. A piece of paper in a file in an office that is not adhered to does not, and will never, safeguard children. Staff training is another big issue as the current training is very limited and does not cover the processes and procedures once a referral has been implemented.

Children and adults involved in the historic cases in the press currently would not have had to wait 30 or 40 years before someone listened and believed their pleas for help. Someone must have had suspicions; that someone would have been obliged by law and legislation, and with protection and support, to report their suspicion of abuse if it had been mandatory to report. Mandatory reporting of known child abuse would safeguard everyone involved once drawn up in legislation and I would have been protected as a whistleblower and possibly kept my job.

Follow: @mandatenow @jonathanwest _ @ed2inspire @paulabarrow

No, I didn’t want attention - Domestic Abuse

Why don’t you just leave?
Why did you put up with him?
You must be stupid
You wanted attention
Why did you stay?

Just some of the comments laid bare at my door by so called friends when I finally plucked up the courage to break my silence, share my utter despair and flee my beautiful family home because I was being abused in every sick and sordid way possible.

Do you find them abhorrent?

I hope you now do? So, don’t judge me till you have walked my journey. Don’t judge me till you suffered at least as much as I did. Don’t make assumptions, stereotype or think for one minute you know the trauma I suffered or what I went through. Don’t ever tell me you understand or know how I must have felt because I can tell you, you don’t. You can attempt to show me compassion and empathy for the death of my spirit and soul. And I am sure it will come as a shock for you to be told that that’s all very nice. But, "so called" friends, during my darkest hours no amount of compassion or empathy helped me and you were not there anyway. You are no friend, cause you walked away. You deserted me in my darkest days. And friends shouldn’t walk away. Real friends stand by you. But can you believe, some of you "so called" friends even believed my abusers propaganda.

Don’t tell me I am paranoid; that I imagined it all.

I was not paranoid, neither did I imagine any of it. I felt every blow, every vile word, every silence treatment, every rape, every tear. So, let me enlighten you as to why I stayed. I am old fashioned and strangely I married for life. I did not sign up to be homeless, have no money and bring a child up alone. None of that was in my life plan or part of my dreams. Call me naïve, stupid or a dreamer but I always envisaged “for better for worse, till death us do part.” That's what I had been brought up to believe. You worked at a marriage and I had worked hard at being a good wife and mother, friend and lover, soul mate and confidante, why would I walk away from that and put my daughter through hell. So I tried to stay and to keep trying. Trying to make a home; trying to keep us all together; trying to make it work. Trying to keep a roof over my daughters head and keep food on the table.

So don’t ever judge me or my decisions.

Because you see, leaving everything you know and own is scary, no, no, it’s more than scary, it’s off the planet and there are no words to express the feeling. To have no job, money or a home is beyond what the brain can regulate. I fled, ran away, left everything. I forfeited my hopes and dreams to make a safe place for my daughter. When you have been made to feel useless, worthless and just generally non-existent for many years; you have no money and have no idea where you will go or end up with a small child, I have to tell you it is the scariest feeling on earth. I had been told for over 20 years that I was ugly, fat and no one would ever want me, so where on earth was I going to find help and hope. Who on earth was going to want me.

So don’t pretend to understand.

Because you see being subjected to mental, verbal, emotional, sexual and finally physical abuse, my daughter and I had no choice but to flee in what we stood up in. We couldn't live like that anymore. We had to hide for fear of him finding us. We had no money and I had to borrow money from anyone who could help in order to feed my child. I ended up with years of bad debt. The stress and discomfort was almost too much to bear. Depressed and suicidal at times, I suffered post-traumatic stress disorder and lived in a fog. Depression engulfed every minute of every move of every day. My world was always grey, overcast and dull; cold, scary and unknown. Lonely, misunderstood and ashamed I retreated from society and became reclusive. There was nothing familiar and I was paranoid I was being followed and spied on. I couldn’t take more than two or three steps without looking behind me and if strangers got too close to me I freaked out. I was scared for years after fleeing that he would come and get me. You see he threatened to kill me and kidnap my daughter.

So please don’t tell me it was my choice.

Because you see it wasn’t. I had no choice. My abuser made the decision for me. In the end his behaviour forced me to leave. I tried to stay because I thought I could make it better. I thought he would change. I thought he loved me. I hoped he loved me. I believed no one else would ever want me. I was groomed; brainwashed. I had no idea how I would survive. I had a beautiful family home; I didn’t want to leave it. How would I tell my daughter? How would I explain to my family? Where would my daughter go to school; did I have the right to upset her schooling. I felt guilty breaking up the family unit. Would there ever be a time I could forgive myself. Was I to blame. How was I going to earn money? What would we live on? Where would we live? How would I pay the rent. Would my daughter ever forgive me? Maybe if I tried harder I could make this terrible life work till my daughter left home? Or would he kill me or would I kill myself before then?

How dare you tell me I wanted the attention?

Fourteen years later I have only just had my personal possessions returned. I didn’t see or have access to my belongings for all that time. He would not let me in the house, changed the locks and the alarm system. I literally had to start over again. From a wooden spoon to a duvet, from a washing machine to cheese grater, we had nothing. We only had what we stood up in. Do rational people put themselves in this position for attention? Due to my abusers behaviour we have suffered immensely. I worked my arse off and made a new home and life for us both with the support of my amazing family. It has been heart wrenching, traumatic and painful for many years on many levels. Finally, we have contentment and peace, but it’s been a long time coming. I can forgive but never forget. Domestic abuse is a life sentence; it damages your heart, soul and spirit. You can never trust fully ever again. Would anyone in their right mind put themselves through this for attention?

So please don’t tell me you get it.

Cause you don’t. I lost several “so called” friends; people I thought would stand by me and help. Friends that I thought would support me and give me a sanctuary; a bed for a while or even a few pounds for food. Friends I thought that would cook me a meal or just call to check on me. These “so called” friends didn’t believe I was abused. Apparently I wanted the attention. Apparently I was so fickle that I needed to flee my home and marriage and break up my family because I needed the attention. I didn’t have bruises or black eyes; he was careful and clever where he hit me. Because I was abused mentally, verbally, emotionally and sexually the public are ignorant and reluctant to believe. You see they cant see those scars. And, yes, my husband raped me on numerous occasions. And, yes, there is rape within marriage. No means no, even when it is your husband. We were estranged under the same roof but he forced me to have sex under duress, held me down, threatened me through my tears and cries for help. And he made kinky obscene requests and raped me again when I said no and protested.

So now please tell me why you didn’t listen or believe me.

How could you not believe me? When a person tells you they are unhappy, scared, controlled, criticised and even subjected to a form of slavery…listen and hear their cry for help. Abuse is abuse whether it is domestic, child abuse, bullying, slavery, FGM…abuse is abuse. Abusers and psychopaths have no conscience or remorse, are arrogant and controlling; they display grandiose, self indulgent and narcissistic behaviours. They can be liars and have double lives…Jekyll and Hyde or Mr Charming. They have secrets, criticise, groom and brainwash you into believing you are not who you thought you were. They isolate you from family and friends and you become their possession; you are extremely vulnerable, scared and have no confidence or self-esteem. This is what they want because this gives them more and more power over you. By fleeing my ex-husband lost control and became violent and even more abusive, texting me abusive messages every night in the middle of the night to frighten the crap out of me and to continue to try to keep his control and power over me. He thought this behaviour would make me return home.

So do you now get it; do you now believe; are you now listening?

I hope so, I really do. I hope you feel sorry and ashamed. I hope you are embarrassed about your behaviour and additional pain and trauma you placed in my heart. I hope you never disbelieve a victim again. I hope through reading this you are now wiser. I am now strong and I have my confidence and self-esteem back and my heart, soul and spirit have very nearly healed. So to those of you that hang people like me out to dry, I say this…I hope you now see there was no intention of needing attention. I never needed any form of attention. I hope you listen, hear and believe in the future. And you know what, I really hope your conscience pricks. I hope you begin to have some understanding of why we stay and why we leave. You see anyone who stays has morals and a conscience and respects their wedding vows. And anyone who flees their family home must be desperate and unhappy; no sane woman (or man) does this on a whim…and certainly not for attention.

I didn't need this kind of attention.

Now I really do hope you finally get it? Just a little bit!