Bad Day At The Office

After an intense and deeply unpleasant hearing, despite the positive nature of the proceedings, the Judge managed to bring the IRH forward by a week, thus bringing most of the agreed directions forward by the same. It was difficult to understand what the problem was that the Judge had with the local authority, he kept referring to paragraph 7 of the last order, this is merely the timetable for the child as it was then and does not seem to warrant the severity of his spleen. The Judge almost held me in contempt of court for trying to explain why the advocates at the contested ICO were not the advocates in front of him at this hearing, often breaking into what I can only describe as low level screaming followed by mumbled gesticulating. Despite my best efforts and pleasantries, the Judge seemed unable to look me in the eye as he tore strips off me for not having e-mailed the solicitor with conduct's case summary and draft order two days prior. As we went through the order I was made to read out the Judge’s dictation like a badly behaved schoolboy. I was told to speak up on several occasions despite practically shouting, the Judge however chose himself to mumble into his bench. I wondered whether the Judge may suffer from Aspergers or OCD because nothing could warrant such a level of public and unnecessary bullying, such of the like I have not experienced for over a decade in this profession.

Nobody Else's Fault

I'am not the type of person who looks to blame anyone, I'am the type of person who instead looks towards myself to establish if I have been in anyway the cause, and if so, how I can rectify it.

Politics

Stay out of politics, you get misinterpreted and misquoted to suit the agendas of others, it's a messy business for dishonest cowards.

Accreditation

You can't improve on perfection, but unfortunately there's always some imperfect c#nt has to pretend to know what you do, assess you on that something they don't do themselves, and then charge you for it so they can rubber stamp you.

Pill Dealing Glasto Vamp

1998 and my first Glastonbury experience, I am unafraid and adventurous, the ‘neck it now and I’ll see you on the other side’ mentality. Funny how you go from immortality to morality in a couple of decades, still, there will be no mid life crises here, but let’s not get bogged down with the other side of this tale, nor the setting of the scene neither. When you first get to somewhere like Glastonbury and it’s all new to you, I mean the experience as a whole, often you’re still in early adulthood, spreading your wings with the goal of other things, you’re outside the confines of your teachings, and you end up somewhere like that, well, quite simply it just blows the cap off. Exciting isn’t the word, it’s beyond exciting. I’m sure that not only do experiences such as that define who you become, certainly for several years thereafter, they also stay with you as part of the mind, and I don’t mean just memory, I mean within the brain’s physicality and the formation of the mind. We get what we are born with, and then there is the fine tuning. On the Thursday night, you get the tent up, you find your feet and you explore. I always struggle not to overdo the first night of any weekender, but I just get so excited, I still peak early even now, despite approaching forty. The air’s thick with music, laughter, people, and just all manner of things all around. The cockles are warming from the cans and the cannabis, so off you pop to explore the site. From the tops at night it looks as big as a city, everything’s lit, the ferris wheels, roads, shops, bars, theatres, restaurants, high rise constructions and giant marquees. There are tents, and tents and lights for miles sparkling from the model’s outer zones. Herbal highs, mixed with drinks aren’t half bad, aiding a night’s blend into the sublime and causing its swift progression towards disappearance. We float about thinking it all in, absorbing the sights and the sounds, it’s the most extraordinary people watching ever to behold. It was then, out of the blackness of the deeper night a shadowy figure cut the flashing ambers away out in front then disappeared again. Things had begun to quieten down, or at least in the central business district they had, many were returning to their little camping communities, many migrating to the healing fields for the light show at dawn chorus. A man with porcelain complexion illuminating his face appeared amongst us, he’d come out of the invisible cusp of the unlit sidelines, and in full view so suddenly of my compadre and I. The gentleman’s clothes were most prominent, they appeared realer than real, set off only by the brightness of his face, this was no smoky silhouette, this was drug taking at its best. Beautifully decked out in a black velvet three piece with red silk lining and white silk dress shirt, a silver watch chain linked the pockets of his waistcoat and his collars rode high against his neck and down to a plunging chest line exposing some serious silver and antique artefacts adorning a pale torso, all finished off with a long black velvet coat, fitted like a glove but split with tails. His eyes were brighter than those of my compadre’s and thus no doubt mine, despite us being higher than cloud nine as his body language guided us in to a huddle. Glinting with pleasure he slid a length of hair from his cheek, then out into a neatly gloved hand came a gilded silver snuff box, which when opened exposed a single tiny white pill stamped with the bold red outline of a heart, ‘taste?’ He asked. Indeed we did, bitter, sour, crumbling and then melting, I’d heard the worse they tasted the better they were, ‘like some?’ he asked, ‘yes,’ I replied, ‘then come with me.’ We both followed, ‘only one of you,’ so my compadre held back. I was taken through a nearby exit gate and into a parking zone, it was a smaller parking area, probably more exclusive, but I couldn’t say where on site. A blood red Ferrari sat on the front row, it was his, ‘jump in,’ he said, it was a luxurious capsule of calm in a field of shit. The transaction was charming, you’d think I was buying a Rolex in Knightsbridge, I probably wasn’t even buying enough to have made the three minute walk worthwhile for him. Still, it was as if he knew.

The Tight Man

The tight man's cloak is to allege his flaw of others.

Tuesday Evening Chase

As I crossed the back street in the shadows, three teenage boys were exiting the mouth of the Trans Pennine Trail behind the houses parallel to Didsbury Road. They languished slightly on the footpath, looking undecided as to whether they would eventually head up to Didsbury Road or not. They hadn’t seen me, at least not until they heard me calling the dog to stay close as I crossed the street to enter the trail from which they came. I went past them, concentrating on ensuring the dog entered the mouth of the trail. It wasn't until they doubled back that my heart sank. I hadn’t gotten a good look at them, I tended to keep my head focussed on where I was going prior to any threat being initiated. I’d say they were mid teens maybe, all dressed in black tracksuits with black hoods. At that age, certain lads in certain circumstances can make the worst kind of decisions, often on a whim. I know I looked an easy target, unsuspecting, drainpipes, over conditioned style-less geek fro. As they rounded the mouth of the trail my nearest exit was now blocked, there were two more exits, the first 200 yards away into a housing estate, the second, 300 yards away, the last 100 yards of which would take me through a lit underground tunnel to the Metro Station. The lead boy was in the middle, and as he crossed into the trail I noticed the glint of something very unfriendly looking slide into his right hand in the last of the light from the backstreet. I reckoned it could either be a knife in a sheaf, a cosh, or worse, it was difficult to tell. Whether these lads were looking for a victim to try out their new toy, were bored and just fancied a fight, were planning to mug somebody, or whether it was some kind of gang initiation I don’t know, the Met can make a lot of places accessible to a lot of people. Whatever was going on and whatever they were packing, I was not sticking around to find out, I have a three year old daughter that I need to look after. So I took to my toes, but unfortunately, so did they. My heart didn’t sink again though, it went off like a firebell, my legs got up to speed so quickly that the G-force my torso pulled as it caught them up strained a few lower back muscles. The cold air was forced upon my lungs as though being drawn to feed a blast furnace, and the adrenalin injected thighs pumped at full tilt for about half a minute. I reckon Usain Bolt would have struggled to stay with me. Although my aggressors did to an extent; stay with me, shouting after me, at least until I tore through the opening into the fantastically lit housing estate. They never came round that corner, unlike the dog thank goodness. I was on edge then until I came back round upon Didsbury Road with burning lungs and a sore back. It was busy on there, lots of cars, shops and takeaways, the buzz hit me then, it was like being a kid again, growing up on a middle class street trapped in the middle of Botcherby.