Love from Daddy

Home!

2012-02-05T07:49:00.000Z

We're home, after a night on the M25.

We decided to reply to a tweet from someone at Radio 5 Live, and I ended up doing interviews for them three times, for BBC World TV (the lady kindly said she would fix us up with a recording for us), who then syndicated our photographs and film footage to the BBC News channel, where they're still showing it! Step Mum had to answer the next call, which came just as we got moving again, and did a super job on BBC Breakfast TV as we picked our way through Stanmore.

Moments later, it was 'Five live' again, and then three local radio stations wanted a piece of us. I managed to get a 'shout out' to Great Grandpa, on the station which covers where he lives.

At that, we are old news, and having arrive home to find the alarm clock just about to go off, we need to catch up on some sleep. More of our tale later, but for now, one of the particularly special pieces of driving from earlier on this evening. The prime cause of the carnage was a lack of judgement and talent on the part of motorists - mainly drivers of lorries, BMWs and a notable prat in a Bentley, but also this crazy pair...

From being the hottest thing on the BBC at four this morning, we are now rapidly turning into televisual chip paper. That's how it goes, and I remarked to one of the editors that I wished we were in such demand for our story on family justice! Apart from keeping us awake on our epic voyage, we got some useful free practice tonight to make the best use of what opportunities do come our way.

Anyway, we're home safe. I'd better get some rest.

Love from Daddy

Snow joke

2012-02-05T01:38:00.001Z

I've blogged from some strange and precarious places, son... But this is being written from the middle lane of the M25, and the driving seat at that.

It's ok, though. We've not moved for almost three and a half hours.

Never in my life have I been caught in a situation like this - and the Army band is to blame. We set out for Kent earlier on in clear conditions and knowing there was a forecast for all this snow. Warnings in the media, on the signs on this very road, gritters left, right and centre - and yet I was very much in the minority when I arrived at the venue unhappy.

Sometimes, you have to stick your neck out and make yourself unpopular, and tonight I decided I couldn't face the likely questioning of my commitment if I dug my heels in and stayed home - but equally, the reality is when you lead people, you bear responsibility for them and where you send them; that is a potted sermon far enough for now.

Hopefully all our bandsmen, and Step Mum and I, will get home safely, eventually. Not everyone around us has.

It's going to be a long night.

Love from Daddy, Near Potters Bar.

The church and the state had a race...

2012-02-03T14:52:00.000Z

When I was a little boy, this was a well known television advert:

Now, you might have seen it recently, but the government had something to say about the claim that it 'doesn't spoil your appetite'. How things have changed in 20 years or so - although I reckon people were probably thinner on average back then than they are now! Mind you, if you ever needed proof that advertisers just make stuff up, Murray Walker came up with 'A Mars a day helps you work, rest and play' on behalf of the same company.

Anyway, today highlights another race. Tim Laughton's comments today sadly indicate that the government has beaten the church to making the moral argument that a child deserves a relationship with both parents.

It has to be said that the journey to this point has been more arduous given their silence. It has been the same about other causes in history.

But I find it very sad that now we are asking men of faith to support the state, when we rightly should have been telling the state to listen to the church on issues of moral significance.

Amidst encouraging news, that is a profoundly sad observation to have to make on a day like today.

Love from Daddy

Get in!

2012-02-03T10:06:00.000Z

"The state cannot create happy families, or broker amicable break-ups.

"But if children are having decent, loving parents pushed out of their lives, we owe it to them to change the system that lets this happen."

Son, that's not a quote from an activist, or even a leading member of the clergy.

That is a quote from Tim Loughton, the government minister responsible for children like you.

More news as the day unfolds. I have to do some Gingerbread bashing today - and start chasing round the radio shows...

Let's be cautious until we see the legislation, but this is great progress. Mummy can justifiably be concerned now. You see, under the present structure, me coming after you is, she claims, harrassment - but the state coming after her instead?

Up and down the country, Mums of little brain will be ringing their state-aided solicitors, pooping themselves.

So they should. Come on Tim, let's make this happen!

Love from Daddy

Riots, railways and rough justice

2012-01-25T20:43:00.001Z

I often share pieces from the 'papers on here. Well, today is no exception, and whilst, on the back of a frank exchange of views I had with the official twitter feed of the Lords Spiritual, I was pleased to see some sense from former Archbishop of Canterbury Lord Carey in the Daily Mail today, I have gone for a piece in today's Times...

I only noticed last night, packing Step Mum's prized newspapers from the Eastbourne riots (£1 plus postage off Ebay!) away having read from them at band practice, that the piece on the court judgement was published 120 years ago today. It turns out that there is to be no extravagant celebration of this particular 120th anniversary, although I look forward to seeing the locals' film some time.

The account of the events which led to the court case were reported in the 4 January edition, describing the chaos as the police set upon the Army march (which was not even playing!):

"In the scuffle several women were knocked down and had their clothes torn; both men and women lost their caps and bonnets, and one musical instrument was thrown into the sea and another considerably damaged. Ultimately, the Salvationists again got together and marched back to the citadel in procession."

Our corps has, for the time being at least, managed to face down the risk of a threat to our existence, but not even our reviled local authority have banned marching with instruments on a Sunday, as happened in Eastbourne - and even if they did, we wouldn't expect to be set upon by the police. The bench found in the brave Salvationists' favour and noted that they had every right to do as they had done:

Rather, it was deemed, in the matter of 'breach of the peace' that it was those who chose to give them a hostile reception that chose to put 'the peace' at risk:

Ironic that. That's what happened when we went to the Salvation Army corps you attend, last year. A mob set on us, the police got involved, and ultimately it was determined that we'd done nothing wrong and that those who had chosen to take offence were the only ones who were up for a scrap. That's classic Little Grandad tactics - incite a fight and then claim a big man did it and ran away.

Nobody ever apologised for what happened that day, which is sad. I am firmly of the view that as Christians, we have much to learn in these days, from our forebears who knew real hardship, lest we sleepwalk back into such days.

I sat and read the1892 judgement this afternoon, and stitched together several scans in order to make up a full size copy which you might be interested to look at. (Click here to download the pdf)

As I looked elsewhere on the page, I was amazed what else they were writing of in the legal round-up that day. A case involving the Attorney-General defending the Great Western Railway from a claim by an insurance company that they failed to use appropriate spark arrestors on their locomotives and had set fire to a man's barn by failing to take appropriate precautions. The slightly dry but very detailed reporting of the proceedings revealed that the great and the good of railway engineering were there! William Dean of the GWR was backed up in his evidence by the Midland Railway's Samuel Johnson, Dugald Drummond from Scotland, and George Whale, deputy loco superintendent of the LNWR. The mechanical engineering fraternity won their case, too.

In the light of recent unfortunate events with 'Lamiel' on the main line, it was particularly interesting. Oh to have been a fly on the wall that day.

Finally on the page, we have a divorce and child custody case! Interestingly, the father, representing himself, was found guilty of cruelty upon examination of evidence, and the judge permitted him to cross-examine his wife (I have to say I am wholly in favour of this; if you are prepared to bring a case and make allegations in a family court, you have to be prepared to stick by them and be questioned on them in court, as would be the case in criminal law) at that. That said, the respondent father explained that he was LIP due to want of means, and whilst he was clearly no saint, so too was he was clearly disadvantaged before the court. Custody was awarded to the mother, who was awarded decree nisi (they did it all in one hit back then, it seems). Notable in the proceedings was the application of the principle of condonation, which has no place in family law any more, to my understanding.

The Salvation Army getting in scrapes with a local authority, sparks from a steam locomotive causing fires, and a litigant in person father losing in court. 120 years ago today, the world was not as different as we might imagine!

Love from Daddy

My little.. estate agent

2012-01-24T11:28:00.000Z

We had some promising news regarding the house yesterday. As I was digging out pictures for my last piece, I found this from a couple of years ago, and it made me smile.

Presumably, you are making your way back round the corner to where you parked your shiny red little sports car, out of sight!

Love from Daddy

A century of fatherhood

2012-01-24T11:01:00.002Z

Last night I happened upon a programme, the first in a series of three it turns out, called 'A century of fatherhood'. It was on BBC Four and you can view it here for the next few days.

Ironically, given yesterday's piece from me to you, there was quite a lot of footage of steam locomotives in the programme, which claimed that 250,000 fathers were lost during the Great War - the family justice system of 100 years later is claiming fathers at a similar, if not greater, rate. In particular, the programme emphasised the fallacy of the stereotype of cold, detached, 20th century fatherhood.

"For a dad, training one's son up in your skill, in your occupation, is one of the greatest gifts you can give your son. In a sense your knowledge, your skill, your experience, as a working father, is your capital. It's your son's inheritance. And so giving this to your son is not just about providing him with an income and an occupation for his future, it's very much about giving him something of yourself"

Dr Julie-Marie Strange, Manchester University

Looks like I was on the right lines yesterday. Whatever Mummy and Little Grandad conspire to do with your childhood (we will have a better idea soon, when we know what school they have applied to send you to), one of the greatest dangers is when you learn to read and use the internet, and can access the wealth of material I am building up for you from afar.

So, if you want to learn how to service a steam locomotive's blast pipe (a skill more fitting with the era shown in the programme than today, for most people, but essential if we want to keep our steam engines working!), you now have a tutorial from your old man. Not as good as doing it in person, but it's a start. Soon, I am going to have to do one on changing a head gasket on a small Peugeot, but that's another story...

Sadly, the story of fatherhood in the 21st Century so far is one of marginalisation, disenfranchisement, abuse and exploitation. It is only because I am not the only one standing up to it that I have hope that when the final story is told, it will be one of equal rights and a well fought battle against the odds, won.

Remembering as I do, my first day at the engine shed, shovelling ash 'til my arms felt fit to drop off, it will not be easy. But nothing worthwhile ever is.

Meantime, as the bandmaster at the corps where you were dedicated used to say - stay off the cheap fags!

Love from Daddy

Of blastpipes and blowers

2012-01-23T13:30:00.002Z

I got home late last night, earlier than expected, having completed my weekend's tasks and nipped over to drop some things off with Grandma and Big Grandad.

Yesterday we finally got 'Oliver's blastpipe assembly off. This was not as easy as it should have been, and took about a day and a half in the end. Eventually, it turned out that one of the studs had sheared, and we had to burn it out in order to release it. All the time you have to bear in mind the relative fragility of castings, and the expense of pattern-making and casting of a replacement - not to mention the fact that the engine won't work without it!

When a steam engine is working, steam exhausted from the cylinders comes up the blastpipe and out of the chimney. In the process, it creates a draught in the smokebox, which draws the fire. On top of the blastpipe is the blower (seen here before removal), which creates that draught 'artificially' to prvent the fire from 'blowing back' at the crew, and to draw the fire when the loco is stationary.

Over time, hot oil from the cylinders builds up and bakes onto the inside of the blastpipe, and in the time 'Oliver' has been back in action, it had built up to the point where it was potentially causing excess back-pressure. To avoid the grot off the inside of the blastpipe going down into, and damaging, the pistons, the blastpipe has to be removed in order to chip it off.

So, early yesterday afternoon we finally managed to get the blastpipe out and the blower off, at which I could start chipping the crud off - it was over half an inch thick in places. Some of it split off in slabs, rather like splitting slate - the rest had to be chipped and ground away, and I was seriously encrusted by the time I finished. Three lots of swarfega, two showers and a bath later, and a little remains!

Some time with the whirly wheel on the angle grinder cleaned up the outside of the casting, too - including the all-important flange faces, so it re-seats nicely.

Final task for me (for someone will today be making a new stud to replace the one which met its end) was to make a new gasket. Unlike a car, you can't just pick one up off the shelf, shaped to suit - after all, there are only two 'Britannias' left in existance! A sheet of jointing is therefore the starting point to cut a new one out.

Jointing is pliable but reasonably easily torn. You can cut it with a knife, but on heavy duty joint like this one, I tend to do it with a hammer. First, you stick bolts, the same diameter as the studs on which the casting sits, through the holes, to keep the sheet in registration.

Then, with a ball pein hammer, you work your way along all the edges to be cut, tapping the edge with the hammer and breaking the jointing cleanly around it. Very quickly you have a gasket of exactly the right dimensions to seal the joint. You then take a picture of your finished work, except I forgot to do that!

I suppose I may as well leave little tips like this on here for you to find in the future. Whilst I would sooner teach you face to face, that is no excuse for me to fail to provide the instruction a father gives his son.

Meantime, 'Oliver' will be back in action next weekend, and out on the main line again soon.

That's the first weekend I've spent at the engine shed for a very, very long time, and the exercise (in both senses of the word!) has done me good. Nose back to the grindstone today, and, speaking of chipping away at greasy filth, responding amongst other things to the CSA...

Love from Daddy

Falling down the pan

2012-01-21T17:50:00.001Z

Sat in the mess room at the engine shed just now, having completed my day's task of measuring all the holes in the support coach that need patching, I picked up the Winter 2011 edition of 'Bluebell News', in which I read this letter:

"How wonderful to enter through the barrier at Sheffield Park into our new Victorian timewarp and see in front of you on Platform 1 the grand sight of a decidedly 'non-Brighton' Baby Changing room sign. How on earth did we end up with this facility in such a prominent place? Why could it not have been incorporated at one end of the buidling or in the toilets (I do appreciate that both genders will need this facility to be PC). On Southern juicers [Daddy's note - he means electric trains, which run on the 'juice rail' - which you will understand but our readers may not!] all you get is a pull-down board to change baby on - whilst the train is rocking and you're trying to stop baby falling down the pan - yet we build a big facility? I read with interest the correspondence ref the loco fleet. All I can say is....[That's enough! - Daddy]"

Deary me! Have you ever heard anything like it?

Now, what I will say is this. Birmingham Moor St station is proof that you can do period signage and a period 'look' whilst making a station fit for modern society. No need for a non-standard sign on the door. But really? What planet is this bloke from?

How awfully kind of him to accept that if a dad brings his son for a day out at the railway, he may, thanks to 'PC', wish to change the child's nappy. How jolly sporting.

I have to point out at this juncture that preserved railways and facilities for young children often do not mix, which is why I am particularly sad that the Bluebell takes flak from its own side for making an effort! It still remains the case that the only place you can change a nappy in a Mk1 TSO is on one of the tables. You can't stop the child rolling off the seat cushions, the floor is filthy and the toilet is bereft of any facilities. I will confess to having had to do nappy changes 'in the field' with you in this way where no alternative existed. All the more reason, then, to provide good, clean, modern facilities within reach at stations. At that we can overlook the lack of provision on trains to some extent.

In my experience on preserved railways and the national network, we have very generous, bordering on over-provision of disabled facilities, which are seldom used, and a dearth of proper facilities for young children, which all of us are once in our lifetime. Just because some modern trains have facilities which I would rather not use because they are dangerous, doesn't mean that a tourist attraction can justify ostracising families so. Most dangerous to our chosen hobby is alienating people and their children who would be the today's passengers, and tomorrow's workforce, to perpetuate it into another generation.

Daddy (pictured) and Step Mum went to the Bluebell with 'Lamiel' during 2010, but you couldn't come.

Fortunately, it is the Bluebell's correspondent who is left to look a prat, and I look forward to inspecting their facilities next time our engines take us there. Indeed, I have only ever been without you, so you are due a trip one day!

As I say, I've been working on the support coach today, and about 70 bits of rot which have been cut out have now been numbered and measured ready to make and weld in the patches. We have lots to do to get it ready for a busy summer on the main line,when it becomes our 'home from home'.

In the support coach, near Salisbury, being hauled by 'Oliver'; playing with 'James'! March 2010

Meanwhile, the Ivatt '2MT', 46521, made its first trip along the line yesterday, and just needs the transfers putting on before it is ready to be launched and star for the first time alongside its near twin, 78019 (rear of shot), in next week's gala. Sadly, I fear there will be more men like the one who wrote that letter visiting, than children needing nappies changed, but that's how it goes. Not all children are fortunate enough to have some of the opportunities you have had.

Meantime, we have jobs to do on 'Oliver', which may well be receiving my attention tomorrow along with the rest of our 'team'. It's the first time I have put in a weekend's work at the engine shed, which has been a big part of my life for half of it, for a good while, and whilst Step-Mum and I are missing one another, I am finding it refreshing to get away from it all.

There is a spare bunk in the sleeping car compartment for when you are old enough to join in. Time flies when you're having fun.

Love from Daddy

Child Support Aggravation

2012-01-21T13:54:00.002Z

A letter arrived from the CSA this morning, further to their two recent ones (one to say I owe nothing (since I now earn nothing) and one to say I owed arrears for the period since I lost my job, which I clearly didn't).

Even by their standards, today's is a cracker.

Every man who has to use the CSA will, like me, have a huge collection of copies of leaflet 'CSL305', which they helpfully, and at great expense, enclose with most letters they send. Great stewardship of resources, that. They also enclose Freepost second class envelopes, which are useless, since if you do not pay for your letters to be signed for, CSA always deny receiving them. What they do then is 'ring you' (sometimes they actually use a telephone) during the working day, fail to speak to you and act anyway.

Both this leaflet and the Directgov website say this:

"If you want the CSA to collect and pass on payments, the CSA will arrange with you and the other parent:

how often payments will be made
when payments will be made
This is usually based on when the non-resident parent is paid their wages, pension or benefits. For example, child maintenance can be paid:

every week
every fortnight
every four weeks
every month"

This seems reasonable. Being a railwayman, I was paid four-weekly. Today is the latest take on CSA's position, to explain why they unilaterally refused to do a four-weekly Direct Debit, (which Steam Railway magazine certainly manage!), and instead made a deduction from earnings order which cost me £1 every pay day to have money removed at source by my employer - who then, because the order was defective when I came to leave, overcharged me. CSA admitted this to the extent that they are sending me a cheque. They will then need to get the money back off Mummy. Here we go: "You have again queried why we cannot set up a four weekly direct debit. It was explained to you in our letters dated 1 July 2010 and 21 February, that we can only operate a monthly direct debit. Direct debits work on the basis that payment is taken on the same date every month. You continue to contest this issue but our response will not alter as it is beyond our control. Please be advised that as we have again address the direct debit, deduction from earnings order and court order issues, we will not be responding to queries regarding them in the future."
So, about £30 in postage, £20 in fees from my erstwhile employer, and several letters later, I am promised a cheque, and other monies which have been owed for over a year and previously denied, but they insist black is white, still.

The worst bit is that unless you challenge CSA's repetitive 'errors', which invariably leave you out of pocket, they will use their draconian powers, like bailiffs, taking your passport or driving licence, to force the issue...

Just another skirmish, then. If the cheque comes, our sums for this month might add up again.

I haven't even touched on what Gail Armitage of CSA said about you. It will make me too cross.

Love from Daddy

Memories of memories

2012-01-19T19:41:00.000Z

I'm watching Michael Portillo's Great British Railway Journeys. Every show I've caught so far has had at least some content which I have memories associated with.

The other week, Michael was in the cab of a freight train with the same traction, over the same stretch of line, as I did last year. Tonight, he went to Ffos-y-fran and the open cast mine where I lost my wallet, containing things of yours. That was in the early days of this blog, before you were lost. I hope your uncle in Devon doesn't live to regret his treatment of you and I if Mummy and her twin sister treat their husbands and sons similarly. I feel sure that given the opportunity, Little Grandad will treat both his grandsons with the same contempt as he showed his own wife.

As a result of the time which has passed, I am now into the territory, one year, one month, one week, six days and 17 hours since I last saw you, of having memories of memories.

Portillo finished the programme (which will be on iplayer now, but not for long - maybe I can get a DVD of it one day) on the Brecon Mountain Railway.

One day, I will tell the story of what happened on our 'Great Welsh Grice', but suffice to say that tonight, the Portillo's show closed with the same engine, hauling the same coaches, making the same journey, that you did as you set out, successfully, to travel the length of every narrow gauge railway in Wales, in less than three days.

I'm very proud of your achievement, and someone who I met on my trip to the opencast colliery heard my tale and very kindly let me have his own copy of the video which was produced, which I'd missed out on. That one we can certainly watch one day, if the chance arises, and whilst I doubt you will remember a thing, you will see what fun we had.

The memories are painful when you are not making any more - and more so when you can't share them, either.

But the Daddy who dropped what he was doing and took time off work at a moment's notice to take you out of nursery and give you an experience we otherwise couldn't have had, is still right here, waiting.

Love from Daddy.

Can't argue with that

2012-01-19T15:20:00.000Z

I watched this advert for the first time the other week, with a growing sense of trepidation - but I love it! (More than I love the Chicken Mayo, which is not at all. I'm a double cheeseburger man, and you like chicken nuggets, like Zebras eat)

When you were on the way, I was one of the best customers the hospital had ever had, judging by their surprise at the number of tokens I had bought in the waiting room for each ultrasound.

In the end, at short notice and pretty much the last moment we could have done it, we managed to get in for a 3D scan.

It seems to be the way of things at the moment that the pendulum has swung back in the direction of people liking a surprise, but to be honest, I was quite happy to 'meet' you before you were born, and refer to you by name. The pictures were remarkably lifelike - the sonographer reckoned they were some of her best work, because Mummy's not very big and you were a stoater of a baby! The picture I put on my desk at work before you were born is now on my shelf at home.

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well."

Psalm 139:13-14

Can't argue with that.

Love from Daddy.

Loving your enemies

2012-01-18T11:51:00.001Z

"Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you; That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? do not even the publicans the same? And if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more than others? do not even the publicans so? Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect." Matthew 5:44-48

Aiming for perfection can be a disappointing challenge, especially whn you walk the road less travelled.

It's interesting that some of the most innocuous things I've done in the last year have been the most provocative - perhaps because people can't come to terms with their own part in what has happened to you. The fact that I keep coming in peace seems to anger and wrongfoot them, invoking enmity.

I have said time and time again that I have no demand for vengeance. In all good conscience I could not do what has been done to me, to anyone.

But I will keep asking for justice. I will keep being unreasonably reasonable - and whilst I may hate the things many people are doing to you, me and our family, by commission or omission, by grace I try not to hate the people, but rather to pray for transformation. Great evil needs a great God.

"For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand." Ephesians 6:12-13

One day you will be able to make your own mind up about the players in your tale - and I will want to feel able to look you in the eye and say I left no stone unturned, no evil deed accepted, that I exposed to the disinfectant of daylight that which was done to us in the hope that it would remain unseen under the shroud of family court secrecy. It is sad, most of all, that I must do all this in the face of people almost universally claiming to be Christians. An indictment, but one foreseen in scripture:

"He that saith he is in the light, and hateth his brother, is in darkness even until now. He that loveth his brother abideth in the light, and there is none occasion of stumbling in him. But he that hateth his brother is in darkness, and walketh in darkness, and knoweth not whither he goeth, because that darkness hath blinded his eyes." 1 John 2:9-11

Your Dad makes no self-righteous pretence of infallibility. Rather, he seeks to hold himself to the standards set for us all, and by grace, to keep going.

Love from Daddy

Beware the free ads...

2012-01-18T00:17:00.000Z

Last week, I was interviewed once more on a BBC local radio station, which was offering, under the guise of a phone-in to help the listeners, an hour's free advertising to a local firm of family lawyers at their busiest time of the year.

Someone forwarded me an interesting post by a lawyer on her blog today, which I read with an appreciation that at least here was a solicitor who had sussed the extent to which the Children Act stinks, particularly in its' scant regard for parents.

However, then I saw the broadcast which she had just participated in...

Let me say this loud and clear to everyone who reads our blog. Don't believe the hype.

These magical solicitor people are only in it for the money. Your money, which they will spend like water and chase ruthlessly, or the state's money, which they are very adept at helping themselves to. Yesterday's House of Lords debate on the legal aid cuts was sadly another case of people who have never set foot in a family court prescribing solutions based on ideological prejudice and the feminist presumption that if you can't get away with being selfish in your own stead, use a child as a shield.

Particularly, note how the lady makes the point that, as a woman, why would you reach an amicable agreement on settling things, when you could pay a solicitor (or get the state to fund one) to tell you that you're objectively better off going to court. Why settle for a fair split that you're both happy with, when you can hire someone to nail him for what the law reckons you're entitled to?

So, I'm not sharing her blog post. This lawyer has the witness in herself - three women callers, a neutered man on the sofa, a stay-at-home weekday audience of women who aren't working (prime legal aid fodder, fill your boots while you can!), and boy, does she play to the crowd.

What's the betting that if you were a Dad and instructed her, she would charge you, at a hefty hourly rate, to be told 'fortnightly contact at best, and you'll get skinned for your house, possessions and maintenance'?

She said you wouldn't pull your own tooth out. Anyone who can read and write can do their own divorce. They can also produce a consent order for property or child residence far more cogent than anything I've ever seen from a county court. But yes, you would need a solicitor to tell you if you would have done better in court. Which ought not to be material really.

Unfortunately, there is the small matter of the way the family courts work, the despicable industry which it has spawned, and almost totally on the back of the greed of women like your Mum. Women going to court not for what they think is fair, but for as much as they think they can get. And the courts oblige - creating, by the precedents of their judgements, the next generation of 'expectant mothers'.

Leaving the prospects of your children and future life to someone who makes money from conflict is like taking your car for its' MoT at a garage that does repairs. Lots of people are dumb enough to do it, but the people in whom you place your trust have a vested interest in failing you. The work will be expensive, you may well not have needed it, and either way it always costs more than you expected.

This year, afforded a little more breathing space, we are starting to work back through the list of people who have failed you for profit, and that will include several solicitors. OFSTED have already visited your nursery, and at least one GP in Cheshire has some explaining to do...

Love from Daddy

A world so very different?

2012-01-16T11:15:00.001Z

I'm sorry I've written so little of late, son. It's been a busy time.

Last Thursday was an important occasion, which we had been working towards for some time. Fairly late in the day, though, another appointment occurred, and I was able to attend the Children's Society launch of their recent research project, the Good Childhood report.

Archbishop of York John Sentamu delivered the Edward Rudolph lecture to launch the report and deliver his exposition of its content. Unfortunately, I had to leave early, but the text and audio are online and very interesting.

With one thought to what we are doing, and our other meeting that evening, I want to share a quote from his predecessor at the lectern, Rt Revd Tim Thornton, the Bishop of Truro and trustee of the society. Speaking of the man who founded the society and gave his name to the lecture, he said this:

"Of course, as you see Edward Rudolph lived in a very different age... Just imagine.

Edward Rudolph lived at a time when children were in poverty.

Edward Rudolph lived at a time so different, just imagine this, when the Church of England was in crisis, when numbers were going down, and when there was a particular row going on between science, atheism and the church.

And Edward Rudolph lived at a time when there was a very large debt in the country.

So it's very hard for us to relate to that period!"

In the same way, when so much of General Booth's world still exists, those of us pledged to working through the solutions, sensitised to the world around us, will also look back upon the efforts of our forebears, and realise that the God who helped the Rudolphs and the Booths achieve so much in their generation is right with us in ours. There is much still to do.

Ironically, the lecture took place at Church House, being, as it is, right opposite the DfE and CAFCASS' head office. If anyone should be taking heed of the subjective wellbeing of children, and the effect of upheaval, poverty and stress on young lives, it should be them.

Love from Daddy

Good boy, Grandma!

2012-01-10T22:59:00.001Z

Another very unexpected media piece today, out of our immediate area, but too good a chance to miss when a firm of solicitors reckons they have a free hour-long advert for their busiest month of the year.

Imagine, then, my shock, turning to amusement, when the producer said to me 'Are you [Daddy]? it's just that I've got your Mum on the other line!'

We are getting so good at being in many places at once that we are bumping into ourselves.

I reckon we were supposed to be losing momentum by now. We would have every excuse if that were so.

Grandma, who once reputedly tore down a shed with her bare hands, is apparently just hitting her stride.

As you would say, Good boy, Grandma!

Love from Daddy

Dear Interested Reader....

2012-01-06T19:04:00.002Z

When a child goes missing, after you've thought about where they might have gone, you invariably go back to where you last had them.

Two years ago this evening, my son was taken from me by the family courts. I had done nothing wrong - but my spiteful ex-wife decided to use force and lies to take my son from me.

I last played with my little boy right here, with Paddington Bear. He is now in Devon, miles up Brunel's railway line. I haven't seen him in over a year now - despite court orders for contact between us.

Every year, on this anniversary and on his birthday in July, my wife and I will come, to pray for a much loved, much missed little boy, and for an end to this torture.

If all else fails, maybe one day he will come looking, and find his Dad waiting for him here.

There are 3.8 million children, one in three, living without a father in this country. I am just one of those children's Dads. You can find out more about the life we lead by reading this blog, or tweeting @lovefromdaddy.

Thanks for your interest. God bless you.

Daddy

Back to the Bear

2012-01-06T17:38:00.001Z

Time to set off for the annual January 6 trip to Paddington station. You are obviously not likely to be there this year, but you know when you can find us by the bear on 6 January when you are older.

Love from Daddy

Groundhog Day

2012-01-06T12:31:00.001Z

Today was the first time I awoke to find family law in the news and recognised groundhog day straight away.

I didn't realise, as I read the news late last night, that we might have a headline on our hands, but sure enough, radio, TV and print media are full of it today.One of our friends texted me to alert me to it.

I got on air on LBC, having made the 'first cut' on Five Live but only very late in the show. It wasn't my finest interview, but I got on air, which many others didn't. They read an email of mine as well. It reminded me a bit of when I was a kid and used to be a regular caller on BBC Radio Derby - even then I had an opinion on most subjects, and I think they used to like putting an opinionated schoolboy on air to break up the stream of elderly ladies!

I am familiar with media work these days, even television work, but not so much the cut-and-thrust of trying to get on national radio topical debates. It's tough going - you are always at the mercy of the editors, who do not stand on sentiment. You have to think on your feet and say your piece as best as you can. My approach involves lots of pieces of paper strewn about so I can grab and work from the one I need if I get called.

Only now, after two years of this game, am I getting into the swing of things.

The other night, we were going through some of your things and I happened upon a piece of torn card off a box of mince pies from the Co-op, which reminded me of the one big media day when I was about as far from London as I could have got with you.

I took the call just as we arrived in Kyle of Lochalsh, having travelled overnight from London. ITN decided they still wanted to interview me, so rigged up an arrangement for me to be filmed in Inverness that evening, before we went home. After a couple of hours and a walk across the Skye bridge, we grabbed some food and got back on the train. I realised I had a pen, but no paper, so composed my thoughts on the only thing available to me...

Meantime, you were busy taking pictures of us. Not the most flattering, it has to be said!

On arrival in Inverness, a taxi was waiting for us and took us to the STV studios. We didn't get any pictures in the studio, but you were a very good boy with Step Mum whilst I was being filmed.

Sadly, something else bumped us off the news - but that's how it goes. You have to roll with the punches. They couldn't have aired footage they didn't have.

Today was relatively successful because I am learning the ropes in a discipline I never really chose.

That piece of card now lives in your box of treasures, as a reminder of why we do it.

Love from Daddy

Racists 0 - 1 Misandrists

2012-01-05T20:25:00.002Z

Well, well, well.

I've been to Brighton today, thanks to some el cheapo tickets from Southern, for a meeting.

Quite unexpectedly, a Wessex Electric (or a 'Plastic Pig' as they were known) showed up. I'd forgotten that they were plying their trade on the Brighton main line now.

Someone left a copy of today's 'Sun' on the table opposite mine. They should be ashamed - it read like a Women's Aid leaflet.

Today's media has taught us that if a man and a woman have a fight (in which she lands first blow by throwing an ashtray, or a mug in the man's face, subsequently biting him in the leg), the man is a violent beast (just like all men) and the woman is practically canonised. Maybe Sarah will take up Cheryl's offer to stay at her house. The nation's favourite scantily clad toilet warrior might be able to teach her kick-boxing friend some tips.

At the same time as this tsunami of mainstream misandry (challenging which earned me verbals from no less than Calum Best, that fine example of a man, on twitter!) we found out once more that Diane Abbott is a racist. She often says things that betray her fundamentally 'us and them' way of thinking, and manages to epitomise multiculturalism, exposing it as a total farce - her ideal seems to be of a society where we all live in mutually mistrusting racial ghettos, just in much closer proximity to one another.

A Tory MP saying 'black people are all the same' would have been sacked, but a black person can still be racist about white people and invoke a lesser punishment. That's not equality for anyone. At least people noticed this.

So, white people mustn't be stereotyped as one, for being colonialists, black people definitely can't be killed (that was what Stephen Lawrence's Mum said - was the word 'black' necessary if we are trying to reconcile communities?), but it is perfectly acceptable to ascribe all possessors of a particular bodily organ the role of violent abuser, and with it the mantra that women can do no wrong. Racism bad, sexism rampant.

Anyway, changing the subject, I arrived at Brighton and took a quick picture, minded to dig out another one when I got home, which I have...

2012

1988

Back in 1988, on a day out in London with Big Grandad, I was lucky enough to be invited into the cab of 442404 at Waterloo, when it was still running-in and not yet in traffic. That's me waving through the window.

Back in those days, railwayman feared 'big brother' rather less, the world was a different place, and I 'cabbed' a few things. I particularly remember sitting in the seat of 87033 'Thane of Fife' at Lime street at a similar age. Passing Haywards Heath, I was reminded of the morning, almost two years ago now, when we drove there with you, to take you for a ride with 'Oliver' to Bristol (where I had to hand you over to Mummy), and your visit to the cab that day...

March 2010

...and another, a few months later, when 'Oliver' was being mended...

November 2010

It is sad that it might be almost as many years as between my two pictures before you get to do that again, at the present rate of progress.

For as long as society, including so many men, buys into making out that men are one of society's ills, the future looks as bleak for you and your generation as it does for the present one. So we must all keep plugging away. Meantime, relegated to page 13 of the same newspaper that bore Sarah Harding on the front cover, the story of a mother bailed and committed to Crown Court for locking her ten year old son in a coal shed was considered of lesser interest.

I have a dream, that one day a fight between a man and a woman will not be decided by what's between their legs, but by the content of their character...

Love from Daddy

Broken Promises

2012-01-01T15:19:00.000Z

Since today is a day when people make promises, I thought it was time we looked at those which relate to you.

This morning's sermon was based on the latter part of Luke 2:

"When the time came for the purification rites required by the Law of Moses, Joseph and Mary took him to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord (as it is written in the Law of the Lord, “Every firstborn male is to be consecrated to the Lord”), and to offer a sacrifice in keeping with what is said in the Law of the Lord: “a pair of doves or two young pigeons.”

Luke 2:22-24, NIV

When you were a couple of months old, you were dedicated to God in a Salvation Army ceremony in North Wales. Almost all of your extended family were there.

The dedication ceremony is the equivalent, in certain respects, of a christening - but the most notable divergence from other traditions is that it is not considered to confer any special status upon the child. Rather, it is a ceremony for a family to thank God for the gift of a child, and to covenant with God in respect of its care and upbringing.

There is very little written liturgy in The Salvation Army, but the dedication ceremony is, for the most part, structured and worded for us, including these words (my emphasis added):

“In the dedication of this child, you desire togive him fully to God. You wish to thankGod for entrusting this precious life into your hands, and you want him to benurtured in all that is pure, lovely and honest. To this end, you promise thatyou will keep from him, so far as you are able, everything that is likely toharm him in body, mind or spirit. You also promise that as he grows inwisdom and stature, you will teach him the truths of the gospel, encourage himto seek Christ as saviour, and support him in the commitment of his life to theservice of God. You must be to him an example of a true Christian. If you are willing to make these promises,I will receive the child, in the nameof God, and on behalf of The Salvation Army.”

Yes, that's you in the picture, the moment those covenants were entered into. There's a little more to it than that, though. The ceremony book also says this (my emphasis added):

“9. Responsibility of corps. The officershall, at this or some other convenient point, address the congregation,reminding them that they are not only witnesses to the ceremony, but alsoparticipants in it, and as a such are pledged to support the parents in theirspiritual responsibilities.”

It would be interesting, on that basis, to examine the extent to which those who were there that day made any attempt to support either of your parents in their responsibilities to you. I can number using one hand those from the corps where you were dedicated who in the last two years or so have contacted me to see how you were, or how I was getting on in maintaining the pledges I made, in their presence, concerning you.

I think it more important, though, to consider the people who continue to have the ability to exert influence.

All these people remain part of your life in some way.

I would love to be able to ask them what they have done over the last two years or so, to support either of your parents in their keeping of their promises - to be an example; to keep from you, so far as they are able, everything that is likely toharm you in body, mind or spirit.

Fatherlessness, say.

I have heard nothing but abuse from any of them - and nothing at all from several. I wonder if they have been counselling Mummy that what she is doing is not only wrong, but unacceptable?

Here's an example of the worrying truth.

Smirking at her friends as she tucks her mobile phone back into her pocket, having filmed me leaving the hall with the police last year, is your Mummy's twin sister.

She has been on Mummy's shoulder throughout some of the most stressful things that have happened since you were taken away two years ago this week. It was she who hurled verbal abuse at the officer who dedicated you, when he tried to support both families at court.

What, then, of your new cousin, her son?

What of her husband, who must look upon his son knowing that the family into which he's been born continues to think it normal and acceptable to deprive his infant cousin of a paternal relationship?

Apart from me, and your cousin's father, everyone in that family picture from 2008 is a blood relative of both of you. They all bear responsibility. They all have liberty to exercise it, too.

As people make their resolutions, then, we must look back on another year where your situation has got worse. Another year where Mummy and her family have, by action or inaction, breached their covenants in respect of you, and another year where my family and I have had to fight to try and retain any ability to fulfil ours.

That day in 2008, one half of your family made promises which have been kept, so far as they are able. Maybe in 2012 you will see them again.

Our commitment to you this year is, under God, to keep going - well expressed by the prayer which was said in closing the meeting in which you were dedicated:

“Our lovingfather, we thank you for the ceremony for which we have been witness this day – that a man and a woman have brought their gift, their child, to you, and placedhim at your disposal for the rest of his life.

We thankyou, Lord, for every gift that is ours. We pray that you would help us tounderstand that everything is only in trust for you – and that whatever we maybring to you, we only give you what is already yours.

We praythat you would bless young [name], that you would make him everything thatyou have in mind for him at this moment, and in his life to be, as he grows.And we pray for each one of us, that you would help us in our own ways, in ourown situations and circumstances, to uphold the values of family life; toinfluence for good those children who may come within our sphere of influenceday by day.

We pray forthose who carry the responsibility of parenthood within this congregation, andask that you would guide them and strengthen them and give them every wisdom;that would bless all of our households with abundant love; and that Lord, youwould help those who have sadnesses and sorrows in their lives and in theirfamilies at this time - that they would do as Hannah did, and bring thosesorrows to you, so that you can hear, you can bless and you can reassure.

Lord, weask that you would do all of these wonderful things, for your name’s sake. Amen”

Love from Daddy

Speaking out

2011-12-31T16:34:00.000Z

I thought I might close the year with another video message, not from me, but from a girl who has lived, at least in part, the childhood your Mummy is attempting to consign you to. Ironically, the Children are the only ones in all of this who can speak out in relative safety, although never without cost to themselves. A parent who is prepared to deprive you of half your family is going to be stung enough to take it out on you if you dare to expose them.

Here's hoping that 2012 will be remembered not as the year of the London Olympics, which most of us here are dreading, but about you, and thousands of other children, getting their Dad back.

Happy New Year, Son.

Let's make it a good one - and not regret things we didn't do.

Love from Daddy.

Presents

2011-12-29T08:27:00.003Z

Perhaps now is the time to tell you a little bit about your Christmas present. I hope you got it. It seems right that I should record for posterity what has gone your way, when, and why - because it is a common tactic of an alienating parent to withhold or disguise such things. Other than acknowledgements when birthday cards were sent to Mummy's solicitors, neither we nor anyone else has ever recevied notice that previous gifts were recieved by you - and even if we ever were to, we could not know yet scarce help but conjecture the manner in which I and my family might have been portrayed to you. The family history does not bode well on that score.

On our final night in Germany, we went to Koblenz, which was very nice in the summer and a complete waste of time on a December night. Even more frustrating since the model railway....shop (as you would say it) was closed - and in its window was something I thought you would like. So, on our final stop before crossing the border on the way home, at Aachen, I was delighted to find an enormous shop, even bigger than Hattons in Liverpool, which is probably one of the biggest in this country and has seen our family's custom for years.

Notably, and very encouragingly, there were lots of 'normals' and children in the shop. It was hard for us to watch two little boys, not much older than you, excitedly making their way round the shop, and a group of children watching through the windows to the LGB layout in between the store's buildings, when our little boy, who would have been in his element, wasn't with us.

If you'd still been around, and had we the financial resources we used to have, you might have got one of these to go with the 'Thomas' set you had last Christmas - not that we could have bought it in Germany at the current exchange rate!

I decided it might be meet to look at the German train sets, of which the shop had a most fulsome range, which was attracting the attention of lots of families - Hornby and Bachmann, take note!

Whilst you used to be familiar with playing, with me, with toys intended for older children, I elected to get something you could use by yourself. Märklin have brought out this ingenious new formula...

It's rather different to what I had as a little boy (wow, that makes me feel old!), but with the current trend for digital command control, it's doubtless the way to go. A purchase was made...

Thanks to my stunning use of the international language of the gesture, (now required rather more as my powers of German have diminished somewhat through lack of use!) I picked up some gingerbread for us, too - the local delicacy.

Back in England, we made our preparations. Your gift from us was joined by Christmas wishes from me, and a great many other friends of yours, who have not forgotten you, either.

Off I went, then, in between filming clips for my Christmas speech, to the post office, an experience which I wrote about at the time.

All we know from thereon in is that someone using our surname scribbled for the package, sent to Mummy's house.

I have the audit trail to prove it if ever you have questions.

Anyway, that's the story of your Christmas present this year. I hope you get some joy from it.

I am of an age where Christmas presents take on a different nature, but I wanted to share with you one of my very favourites, from your adopted aunty...

Needless to say, James I is very pleased with his likeness.

I reckon you should be, too - and proud to have so many people rooting for you.

Love from Daddy.

The Daddy's Speech

2011-12-25T14:00:00.000Z

At about this time on this special day, millions of people will be tuning in to hear what the Queen has to say of the year that has passed, and the year to come.

I thought it might be a good time to try a message of my own, to you, and for the benefit of all our readers, many of whom take a special interest in you and me.

Happy Christmas.

Love from Daddy.

Shops and Wards

2011-12-24T22:47:00.002Z

Right, well there's a bit to report and time is short, so here we go...

Last night we went to the Westfield at Shepherds Bush.

Never again.

Only £3700 in the 'sale'. I'll take two!

It would appear that it is for people I don't like, to visit shops I wouldn't darken the door of even if I could afford the prices, to eat naff food at scary prices and all they seem to get for their trouble is paper carrier bags.

I didn't get a single present sorted and £30 for cold tapas was a swizz.

The only good bit was the gelato (at 2230 in a shopping centre on 23 December was an oddly satisfying time for Mint Choc Chip and Apple ice cream, a combination which made the girl serving it turn green, too!) and the Lego shop.

I tell a lie - this nativity scene caught my eye, in a toy shop window...

The signs in the window took us completely by surprise!

What an example of a business daring to apply Christian principles - they obviously don't suffer from taking a stand in the middle of one of the ponciest retail setups in Europe. Good on 'The Entertainer'!

Anyway, today we dashed into town and sorted out the remaining shopping, and fetched a Bass for me to go carolling with.

We have made mince pies, disaster has been averted in the Christmas Cake department, thanks to friends from the Army, and I have nearly finished my work for tomorrow.

And so to this evening, at a well known Children's Hospital, and an hour playing carols to the those children not well enough to go home. Four of us split off from the band to go into the hall where the children in the isolation wards' rooms were. As we played, little faces appeared at the glass all around us.

I remember when that would have been you, up in Inverness, confined to a cot in case you had something contagious. I remember, too, the helplessness you feel when a child who cannot speak for themselves is poorly, and relying on you somehow to help them get better. Many of the children we played for were far from home, too.

It would appear that someone using your surname has signed for your Christmas presents. Let's hope Father Christmas gets them, to give to you...

Love from Daddy

I'm Daddy and I...

2011-12-21T20:36:00.003Z

...have got a 'non-molestation' order against me. Just like thousands of other men.

In fact, this is my second! The first one was discharged as soon as the facts were scrutinised, and the one I've got now stands particularly because I wasn't prepared (or well enough off) to go to Exeter to argue it.

Both my 'non-mols' were made ex parte, i.e. the court case took place without me because Mummy claimed she was in immediate danger. That was demonstrably a load of rubbish.

What is quite credible, however, is that on both occasions she sought the 'non-mol' to protect herself from me being able to so much as comment on other things she had done - predominantly involving controlling or eliminating my relationship with you, and money.

Usually, a 'non-mol' is made to stop you from doing something entirely lawful and reasonable, like talking to somebody or visiting the house where your child lives. Between this, and spurious claims of harrassment, which I have also been victim of, of course, this is why we hear about people being jailed for doing something ostensibly reasonable.

Back in the summer we had the Dad jailed for putting balloons outside a school. I had a letter back from David some time later, telling me about his difficult time in jail.

Today, you might think we have a similar case on our hands, as Vicky Haigh has been sent down for supposedly saying hello to her child - but in this instance, my understanding is that the order was in place because she had prompted a lengthy public law case having scurrilously claimed that the father of her daughter was a paedophile. What caused this non-mol to exist, unusually, was not the wild accusations of a legal-aid-fuelled woman seeking to cut out her child's father, but actually a woman who had pursued that line to its sickest extent, and had been found out.

Maybe this explains the reticence with which Ms Haigh's friend in parliament, John Hemming MP, approaches private law cases - because whilst he will find fathers on his side when it comes to court secrecy, the idea that women should get away with the likes of what Mummy is doing to us, and worse, without censure, is not good news.

The end result of this case today is that all of us with a 'non-mol' have to tread carefully. If you breach such an order, it's not a question of how reasonable it was to have done it. For example, if I posted something through Mummy's door myself, knowing she was at Tescos, I would be in breach. If, however, I found her in Tescos with you and handed something to you, that wouldn't be. Of course, it's not quite that simple, because if you do something not covered by the order, they try harrassment instead.

What someone like Mummy does then is makes an allegation of harrassment, which is not investigated by the police but simply used as an excuse to threaten Dad. Once they've been, you refer to that in an ex parte application for another 'non-mol' and it's a fait accompli.

So today is a bad news for men like me with these despicable orders to our name for no purpose other than to serve to protect women from what they have done to men. This is an example of how they should be deployed, but it is a rare anomaly.

Nevertheless, if what Haigh is said to have done to her daughter and her daughter's father is true, she deserves all she is getting - and the likes of Mummy need to see as a clear message the risk that if you pursue parental alienation, you lose the lot - and worse.

Sounds fair to me.

Love from Daddy

Not in my strength

2011-12-21T17:32:00.002Z

"To see yourself in a young face, there is no greater joy"

I got up this morning for a 'rest day' (i.e. one of recovery after a busy day of meetings yesterday - I tend to need a day to recuperate) and put on the television to find More4 showing the 2006 film 'The Nativity Story', directed by Catherine Hardwicke.

Thanks to the 'Plus One' version of the channel., I managed to record and watch it from the beginning. It proved to shape the thoughts I was playing with as to my Christmas message to you this year. I would encourage all our readers to seek out a copy, and if they are not Christians, to simply view it as a film and ask yourself the question whether the story would be so compelling if everyone hadn't thought the main protagonists in the story were out of their minds! I wonder how Joseph himself must have felt about the fact that the child he was to father was not 'his'.

I drew the conclusion that without people doing extraordinary things at God's instigation, nothing that we hold dear in our heritage would have happened - and that being unpopular, dropped like a stone by people you thought were on your side, and going out on a limb for God is actually the strongest of all biblical precedents.

This afternoon I have spent over £30 on postage but was too shaken by the process to notice. It is less often that I am involuntarily affected by things now - far less often, simply because I am learning to cope, not because I accept it any more.

I cannot quite believe what I have achieved this year, when I couldn't have been faulted for crumbling or giving up. But I know I have not done any of it in my own strength.

Love from Daddy

Biting the hand that spoils

2011-12-20T18:58:00.001Z

There's a story in the 'paper today about a Plymouth woman who saved up £22k from her benefits 'to fund her retirement'.

Now, if she'd spent the money, she would have been fine, but as it is, she's wound up paying back even more and landing herself with a suspended jail term.

Trouble is, doesn't that prove that her benefits were more generous than necessary? That money was to keep her from abject poverty - not to stash away the surplus from.

From what I've seen, Mummy's solicitors have done a similar job with her benefit claims as with the rest of it. Despite the fact that she is quietly bankrolled by Little Grandad (it buys him control), she has even cut her working hours to maximise the income she gets from the state - most of which is enhanced because she has you.

It is a crazy setup where the state bemoans the monetary cost of family breakdown but so often hands the child to the parent who cannot afford to have them without going cap in hand to the state.

But that's how it works.

When I was married to Mummy, she and I both worked. Whilst she decided she didn't want to be a stay at home Mum, her salary would never have paid the mortgage, so I was never afforded the option.

Therefore, Mummy earned just enough, net, to pay the nursery fees with a small surplus - but she was paying National Insurance, Income tax, and pension, too.

I, meanwhile, was also paying those things - except I didn't make pension contributions, so as to maximise our income.

Either way, the exchequer received two lots of NI and Income Tax. Apart from receiving child benefit, which is negligible really, we made no claim on the state.

My trip through the family courts, and the effect of having you, my home and belongings taken from me overnight, was directly responsible for a long spell on the sick, and in no small part contributory to the fact that I no longer have a job.

So now, I am paying no tax, NI or pension - and Mummy is a net recipient of state funds, working short hours.

I am at home all week, on my own - and IDS' budget pays for you to go to nursery. Any form of relationship with me has been severed - let alone the chance for you to benefit from full-time parenting, which Mummy didn't want to give you herself.

We also know that Mummy has spent large sums on such things as hairdressing and going for nights out without you (of which more another time), whilst sponging off the state. At the same time, 'her' car was all paid for and in Little Grandad's name, and he not only paid half the rent but was named on her tenancy agreement!

It's all to the good, then, that I have a letter from my mate Mick at the CSA.

Oddly enough, when you owe them money, they move quickly - but when they have taken more than they were entitled to, they aren't so forthcoming.

The bottom line to all this is that not only is the status quo bad for you, it is costing the country an arm and a leg, too.

At the same time, it re-emphasises the insanity of the CSA calculation methods. Your income needs are not based on what it costs to run a three year old, but on a proportion of my income. If I earn more, you apparently need more in your life without me. Oh well, Mummy only has herself to blame for losing £55 a week. If she'd never acted as she has, everyone would have been better off.

The work I have been doing again in Parliament today doesn't yield anything the CSA can touch. But for you, and children like you, it could yet prove priceless.

Love from Daddy

One shepherd short

2011-12-19T11:31:00.001Z

Well, it's been a busy few days. I've only just finished the post I started whilst cooking the dinner on Saturday night!

Last week I was out carolling with a group of friends, when we realised we were a tenor horn mouthpiece too short. It brought to mind another famous film moment:

Sat at the back of the band last night, mercifully hidden from the congregation, I may as well have been Pete Postlethwaite's character as the children of 'Mini Praise' sang for us.

Of course, it was an 'interesting' performance, which reached its comedic peak when the donkey, having arrived on the platform and attempted to grab the microphone from its holder like a pop star, decided the singing needed a bit more of an edge - incurring the wrath of an indignant Joseph as he did so. At least two angels got the hump, and there was a bear in the stable. It was a classic - and your little conducting friend had done a notably superb job of learning the song.

Step Mum and I swapped notes afterwards. We both thought they did great - but they were one shepherd short.

Love from Daddy

On the right path

2011-12-17T19:00:00.000Z

Today, I want to share this week's very interesting Westminster Hall debate, which gives some insight into where the government is going with 'contact', and other issues arising from the Family Justice Review. I am keeping up my efforts in parliament, which are contributing towards what would appear to be a more forthright and favourable position than we enjoyed last Christmas. The fact remains, though, that without legislation, we won't get far - so it's still a case of seeing whether Michael Gove, Ken Clarke and their respective teams can convent rhetoric into draft legislation, parliamentary time, and successful passage into law. Then, of course, the floodgates will open, as parents like me try to get years of immoral behaviour challenged and corrected.

So, here we go. I've included the Hansard text in full, highlighted to aid the skim reader - but it's worth reading in full and won't take long. This could be an interesting marker on the path to brighter days for the likes of you and I.

13 Dec 2011 : Column 256WH
Children’s Access to Parents
1 pm

Charlie Elphicke (Dover) (Con): I am delighted to have secured this important debate. Week in, week out, our constituency surgeries are all too often full of parents who are struggling to see, have contact with or access to their children. Evidence suggests that around 3 million children in the United Kingdom live apart from a parent, and 1 million of them have no contact with the non-resident parent three years after separation.

In recent years, the number of court applications, and the number of backlogged cases in the system, have increased. In 2005, there were 110,330 court applications, compared with 122,330 in 2010. The CAFCASS—Children and Family Court Advisory and Support Service—case load has also been growing: in 2007-08 there were 39,432 cases, but in 2010-11 there were 43,759. A massive delay in family court cases is not in the best interests of children or parents.

Although the numbers of court applications and cases in the CAFCASS backlog look slightly better than last year, they are still far too high and I suggest that mediation would be a faster and better way forward. Mediation is cheaper at £752 per case compared with £1,682 for full court proceedings, and on average it takes 110 days, while court cases take 435 days. Some 95% of mediations are complete within nine months, while only 70% of court cases are over within 18 months.

In such circumstances, time is of the essence to provide stability for the child and their parents, and to ensure the protection of the child’s welfare and that there is closure and a settlement regarding how they will be looked after, with arrangements for parental contact and access. It is important that such situations are dealt with quickly, and from paragraph 115 onwards the Norgrove report promotes mediation, which is to be welcomed. My only caveat, however, is that the report goes on to state that if people do not like the results of mediation, they should still be able to apply to the courts. I do not agree; one needs closure as soon as possible, and parents who are busy arguing with one another should not be allowed further bites of the cherry.

A key issue is the right of children to see their parents following a separation. It is not an issue of dads’ rights, or fathers’ rights, or about those of the mother; it is about the fundamental and basic rights of the child. I believe that child welfare is best served by ensuring that children know and have a relationship with both parents after separation. Too often, parents sink their children’s rights in a sea of acrimony when they split up, which must be fundamentally wrong.

Andrew Percy (Brigg and Goole) (Con): I congratulate my hon. Friend on securing this debate. He is right to say that such cases should be about the rights of the child, but does he agree that those rights also extend to a child’s right to see their grandparents?

Charlie Elphicke: The right of grandparents to see their grandchildren is important, although not, I hasten to add, in the teeth of the unity of both parents if the grandparents are, shall we say, of the more interfering busybody variety who destabilise families. In general terms, however, a relationship between a child and their grandparents is positive and should be encouraged. It is not good if one parent who has custody of the child tries to frustrates that relationship, just as they should not try to frustrate the non-resident parent. My hon. Friend is a passionate advocate of grandparents’ rights, and once again he makes a powerful and forceful point. If there is acrimony between families, it is flatly wrong for parents to inflict their mutual loathing, which too often exists in a relationship breakdown, on the child.

In its conclusions in paragraph 109, the Norgrove report states:

“The child’s welfare should be the court’s paramount consideration, as required by the Children Act 1989. No change should be made that might compromise this principle. Accordingly, no legislation should be introduced that creates or risks creating the perception that there is a parental right to substantially shared or equal time for both parents. For that reason and taking account of further evidence we also do not recommend a change canvassed in our interim report that legislation might state the importance to the child of a meaningful relationship with both parents after their separation where this is safe. While true, and indeed a principle that guides court decisions, we have concluded that this would do more harm than good.”

The most important words are,

“no legislation should be introduced that creates or risks creating the perception that there is a parental right to substantially shared or equal time for both parents.”

The difficulty with the report is that it confuses the issue of time with that of an emotional bond. An emotional bond—love and affection—is not about the amount of time spent with someone. A person could have a best friend from university they have not seen for years. When they next meet, however, the friendship will pick up as if it had been only five minutes and that is because a relationship exists. The person may not have spent much time with their friend over the intervening years, but they know and have a relationship with them. That, in essence, is what we must ensure for our children, because they have the right to know both their parents and to have a relationship, reasonable access and contact with them following a separation.

The Norgrove report has confused those two issues. A relationship is not about time but about that bond, that sharing between parent and child, and the love and affection that goes with it. A clear social message needs to be sent out, which is why I have tabled the Children (Access to Parents) Bill, and why I secured this debate. A relationship is not about the amount of time spent together but about the bond created, and that lies at the heart of my case.

We need action because 1 million children do not see both their parents. Society has changed and is still changing, and social change means that over the past few decades, both parents have become more actively engaged than was previously the case. One study showed that parental involvement by fathers rose 200% between 1974 and 2000, and the change in work patterns seen over recent decades suggests that there is more joint parenting. According to research that I requested from the House of Commons Library, the number of men in part-time work has risen from about 500,000 in 1985 to 2 million today, while the number of partnered mothers in work rose from 52% in 1986 to 71% in 2010. That suggests that parents are sharing work and bringing up their children, and all of us, particularly the younger Members of the House, know that the work-life balance includes more juggling and sharing of parenting and parental responsibility.

Mr Dominic Raab (Esher and Walton) (Con): I congratulate my hon. Friend on securing this extremely important debate. He has mentioned some of the latest data but is he aware of recent research by the insurance company Aviva showing that the number of stay-at-home dads has doubled in a year? That is part of the trend that he mentions.

Together with taking on more of the burden and responsibilities of parenting should come more of the rights. I agree with points raised earlier about the rights of the child, but there is also an issue of securing paternal access. I have heard cases in my constituency surgery where although an access order has been passed by the court, it is flouted, sometimes dozens of times, by the other partner. Does my hon. Friend agree that we must take a firmer, clearer look at enforcement action against recalcitrant partners?

Charlie Elphicke: I thank my hon. Friend for that powerful intervention. I will come later to the key issue of orders being flouted.

Parents share work and the bringing up of children, and that should not end at separation. It should not be a case of falling off a cliff; it should not suddenly be the case that children never see one of their parents any more. That is a mad way to proceed and it is destabilising for the child. The welfare of the child is best served by ensuring a continuing relationship with both parents.

The same is true in respect of educational attainment. In December 2010, the Fatherhood Institute published a report showing that better school results, better behaviour, lower criminality and less drug abuse are associated with children having the type of relationship with both parents that I have described. That is why it matters that the child has the right to know both parents and have a relationship with them through reasonable access and contact. It is essential to the rights of the child, the welfare of the child and the success of the child.

My hon. Friend made a powerful and telling point: too often, court orders are flouted. One sees this from the Norgrove report and the sixth report of Session 2010-12 of the Select Committee on Justice. People say, “Oh, there’s no need to change anything. We can see from the court figures that it all looks perfectly fine. In only a couple of hundred cases is contact denied.” However, the reality is that even if orders are made, they are just ignored. Even if people go down the route of a court process, they may be forced into abandoning it simply because of how long it all takes.

That is why a change in the law should send a social message as much as a legal message. I urge the Minister to reject the aspect of the Norgrove report that I have described and to support a change in the law. We need that change to send a clear message to the courts, but also to all parents who, as my hon. Friend the Member for Esher and Walton (Mr Raab) said, deny their children the right to see and know both their parents through reasonable access and contact. That right should be enshrined in law. I hope that if I end my contribution now, it will allow a little time for my hon. Friends the Members for Harlow (Robert Halfon) and for Brigg and Goole (Andrew Percy) to speak.

Robert Halfon (Harlow) (Con): It is a pleasure to speak under your chairmanship, Ms Osborne. I congratulate my hon. Friend the Member for Dover (Charlie Elphicke), who has expressed the feelings of millions of people throughout the country in what he has said. As ever, his speech contained an enormous amount of research and interesting facts.

I will speak for only a minute or so, because other hon. Members want to speak. I want to talk about just two things. First, there is a father in my constituency of Harlow, Mr Colin Riches, whose children have been denied access to him. It is a tragic case, which shows why the law must change. Secondly—this relates to what my hon. Friend the Member for Brigg and Goole (Andrew Percy) has said—I am campaigning on behalf of the Grandparents’ Association, whose headquarters is in my constituency. We are asking for children to have the legal right to letterbox access to their grandparents. Put simply, that is the right to send and receive cards at birthdays and Christmas.

I have worked with Mr Colin Riches to table an e-petition—No. 23102—and I have raised his case many times in Parliament with my right hon. Friend the Leader of the House and others. The crux of his e-petition is this:

“Shared parenting should become the natural position in the UK. It’s in the best interest of the child. The law should be there to protect children’s relationships with both parents. It needs to show children that both their parents are treated with equality. So that children who have been cared for by both parents and grandparents do not suffer the pain of a living bereavement.”

I welcome the fact that the Government are looking into this matter, most recently through the family justice review, as mentioned by my hon. Friend the Member for Dover. That review was a ratchet in the right direction, because it accepted this point:

“More should be done to allow children to have a voice in proceedings.”

However, although I welcome some of the review’s contents, it does not go nearly far enough to help families such as that of Colin Riches.

I have had a very positive letter from the Minister—by chance, it arrived today—regarding my constituent, Mr Riches. In that letter, the Minister mentions that the review stops short of recommending a change in the law, because of the risk that a change could both encourage litigation and compromise the key principle of the Children Act 1989. As has been said, however, the law is clearly balanced too far in one direction—it is weighted against fathers and grandparents—and we need a change in the law to redress the balance.

I am nevertheless grateful to the Minister for his sympathetic response to my letter. He says that the Government will

“explore possible options for strengthening the expectation that both of a child’s parents should continue to be involved with the child’s care, post-separation”.
Will the Minister meet me and Mr Riches to discuss these issues more fully?

Secondly, I want briefly to ask the Minister about the work of the Grandparents’ Association. Last Thursday, I joined my hon. Friend the Member for Brigg and Goole at No. 10 Downing street to hand in a petition with more than 7,000 names calling for children to have the right to letterbox access to their grandparents—the right to send and receive cards on special occasions. That is a very small but symbolic thing, especially in the run-up to Christmas. Sadly, throughout Britain today, thousands of children are denied any access to their grandparents, even on birthdays and during the holiday season, which is often caused by family conflict.

Again, to be fair, the Government are considering the issue. I had a very positive response from the Leader of the House last week, when I raised the matter at business questions, but if the Minister could give a clear commitment to examine the issue, it would be hugely welcomed by grandparents in my constituency, the Grandparents’ Association and millions of grandparents up and down the land. It would be a tiny gesture, but it could transform the lives of many families. Ultimately, this is about the right of children to know who their family are and to have a chance to communicate with them. In the context of what the Government are doing to support the family, surely that is the right thing to do. Both the issues that I have raised fit with what we said in opposition, so I very much hope that we will be able to do something in the months and years ahead.

Andrew Percy rose—

Sandra Osborne (in the Chair): Order. Not all hon. Members have given notice that they want to speak. I am sure that they will want the Minister to have adequate time to respond.

Andrew Percy (Brigg and Goole) (Con): I apologise for that, Ms Osborne. I will make this an extended intervention. I just want to agree with the words of my hon. Friend the Member for Harlow (Robert Halfon), who delivered the petition to No. 10 Downing street, and to give two quick examples from my constituency. I have two ongoing cases of constituents who have lost access to their grandchildren. In the first case, that was, very sadly, through the death of the daughter. In the second case, it was through a daughter’s new relationship with someone who exercised considerable influence over her. Consequently, the children left the country before legal processes could be put in place by the grandparent. I have met my hon. Friend the Minister to discuss this matter before, and I would welcome an opportunity to discuss it with him again. Those of us who are campaigning for grandparents’ rights fully accept the rights of parents, but at the end of the day this is about the rights of children, and those rights should extend to including grandparents. I hope that the Minister will meet us—I will end there, having taken less than a minute.

The Parliamentary Under-Secretary of State for Education (Tim Loughton): I will try to get through as much as possible of my speech in the time left to me, but I start by congratulating my hon. Friend the Member for Dover (Charlie Elphicke) on securing the debate. I agree with virtually everything that he said and with other hon. Members who raised points as well. The whole point of mediation is that it is quicker and cheaper, and we are of course examining that through the various devices being promoted by the Ministry of Justice and with which the Department for Education is involved.

I agree with the points made about grandparents. Part of establishing greater stability for children who find themselves in a broken family is that grandparents often offer an anchor of continuity when parents split up. I am sympathetic to those points, and we are looking at various ways to make sure that, wherever possible, grandparents remain engaged. Too many of them do not, as I know from my constituency.
This is a highly emotive issue, and one that is important to the well-being of hundreds of thousands of children and young people. As my hon. Friend the Member for Dover mentioned, an estimated 240,000 children experience the separation of their parents every year. Overall, more than one in three children will see their parents split up before their 16th birthday. That is a huge number, and I am afraid it is a reflection on society today.

There is great pressure on the courts at the moment, not least on the public law courts, post Baby P, which is having a knock-on effect. It is therefore absolutely right and urgent that we sort out some of the often acrimonious cases in the private law courts. My hon. Friend is absolutely right when he talks about parents sinking a child’s rights in a sea of acrimony. In too many cases, parents use their children as pawns, and the instability and emotional pressure that causes for children cannot be good for them. For all concerned, but particularly for the children, we must make sure that we do a lot better.

Just about everyone agrees that a child’s welfare is best served if both their parents are as actively involved in their upbringing as possible, unless there are good reasons for their not to be involved, and the child’s welfare would be undermined—that must remain the safety net. All the evidence tells us that children genuinely benefit from a relationship with both parents, with the potential for each to make different contributions to their child’s development. Yet, as we have heard from my hon. Friend, many children grow up with little or no relationship with one parent—usually, although not exclusively, the father.

This is a topical issue. My hon. Friend mentioned his Bill, which had its First Reading in March. Since then, the family justice review has carried out its consultation, and it produced its final report last month. It is right that we consider the issue of a child’s contact with their parents in that wider context.

I would just make two points. The Norgrove report, excellent thought it is, is a Government-commissioned report, not a Government report. The Government will, I hope, produce their response to it in January. I am working with colleagues from other Departments, including the Ministry of Justice, to reflect on many of the issues that have arisen from the Norgrove review, with which we are very familiar.

Some of the review’s concerns about having a presumption in favour of shared parenting were based on its visit to Australia. However, I think there were concerns about the Australian experience because, too often, the focus was interpreted as being about equality of time. As we know, we cannot carve up a child’s existence on the basis of some spurious 50:50 split in terms of time. As Members of Parliament, we probably know that better than others. We are not good role models as parents. If, heaven forbid, I were to split up from my wife—she has tolerated my being an MP for 14 and a half years—it would be bliss if I was expected to spend 50% of time with my children, because it does not happen now. However, we need to be realistic and not to base things on artificial equalities in terms of time.

There is, however, a much broader issue about the culture of parenting. The culture has shifted away from the traditional view that mothers are primarily responsible for the care of children. Increasingly, society recognises the valuable and distinct role of both parents. My hon. Friend the Member for Esher and Walton (Mr Raab) mentioned the Aviva survey, which pointed to the increasing existence of stay-at-home dads and dads’ wish to be much more involved in their child’s upbringing.

The Government are doing much to encourage that societal change, promoting fathers as equal parents and encouraging them to be fully involved with their children from the earliest stages of their lives. Co-operative parents, both actively involved with their children, are more likely to continue that pattern after separation, and a co-operative, flexible approach is more likely to lead to contact arrangements that actually work. In that, I include the important role of grandparents.

As we know, however much education and awareness-raising we carry out, many parents separate in a hostile environment that fosters selfish perceptions. I am not seeking to downplay in any way the trauma of relationship breakdown, particularly where children are involved. Rebuilding a new life after separation or divorce can be one of the hardest things any of us will face. It is a sad truth, though, that the outcome, all too often, is that loving parents are frozen out of their children’s lives, and those who stand to lose the most are the children themselves.

My hon. Friend the Member for Esher and Walton spoke about the serial flouting of contact orders in too many cases. Too often, the resident parent can use the weapon of delay to freeze out a non-resident parent, such that a large portion of non-resident parents lose contact with their children altogether within two years. Whatever changes we do or do not make to the law, we need better enforcement of what exists now. That is absolutely essential, and I have been holding conversations to that effect with colleagues in the Ministry of Justice and the family courts themselves.
A relatively small proportion of families—about 10%—end up seeking help from family courts to resolve disputes about contact. These are the most complex and difficult cases, often involving multiple problems. The examples mentioned by my hon. Friends the Members for Harlow (Robert Halfon) and for Brigg and Goole (Andrew Percy) reflect some fairly acrimonious marriage breakdowns.
We should not kid ourselves that the remaining 90% of separating parents, who do not seek help from the courts, are happy with the degree of their involvement in their children’s lives. Of course, many manage to put their children’s needs first and to reach an amicable settlement, but far too many non-resident parents feel they must accept unsatisfactory or unfair contact arrangements, because of the fear of long, drawn-out and expensive court procedures. That is why up to a third of non-resident parents have no meaningful contact with their children. Once that happens, it can be almost impossible in some cases to resume contact, particularly where young children are concerned. At every stage, we must remember that the most important part of this whole equation is the child. The delay and continued uncertainty caused by an acrimonious dispute going through the courts over a long period can only be damaging to the child.

That is a tragedy, and one the Government intend to address. Our vision is to establish a clear expectation that, under normal circumstances, a child will have a relationship with both his or her parents, regardless of their relationship with each other. We want to achieve that by creating a climate in which separating parents are able to see through their personal differences and to recognise the importance of their both remaining involved in their child’s lives. For those who need support to focus on their children’s needs, there will be a range of interventions to facilitate the making of practical and lasting agreements.

This will be a society where family courts are a last resort, used to determine only the most difficult cases, particularly those where there are welfare concerns. This court system will be transparent and accessible to those who need it, with no perceptions of bias based on sex or resident or non-resident status. Children will feel that their views count and are listened to, and the minority of parents who take their dispute to court will do so in the knowledge that it is only in exceptional cases that a child will not be able to maintain ongoing contact with both parents. Crucially, parents will adhere to court orders in the knowledge that action to enforce breaches will be swift and decisive—if I am reading quickly, it is because I am determined to get to the end of my speech.

Whether the Government achieve that vision is only partly in our hands. We cannot prevent acrimonious break-ups or change the way individual families choose to organise their lives. However we must do everything we can to improve the system so that it gives children the best chance of growing up under the guidance of two loving parents.

As I have said, the family justice review panel reported last month. It paints a grim picture of the experience of families in a private law system that is too slow, too expensive and too emotionally damaging for children and parents. The panel’s view is that shared parenting is best encouraged through education rather than legislation. It proposes a range of measures to encourage out-of-court dispute resolution and to support parents in putting their children’s needs first. Such pre-court processes would focus on giving parents effective tools to resolve their problems and change their behaviour. They would include mediation, as my hon. Friend the Member for Dover has said, parenting information programmes and the drawing up of parenting agreements. Most of us would agree that those are sensible. In addition, an online hub would, in the first instance, provide information and advice on a wide range of issues faced by parents. The Government are carefully considering the panel’s proposals for reform and will respond to them early in the new year. However the rationale behind these pre-court plans—more support for parents to make child-centred agreements, and fewer parents going to court—fits with the vision I outlined earlier.

I turn now to the nub of my hon. Friend’s proposal, which is legislation to promote shared parenting. As we have heard, the family justice review opposed such a move. It is concerned that any such changes to legislation risk creating the perception of a parental right to shared time with their children. It has also taken on board the concern that legislation could be seen as undermining the fundamental principle under which courts operate—the principle in the Children Act 1989 that paramount consideration is given to the welfare of the child. As I have said, I have some concern about that.

This debate has been raging for some time. Five and a half years ago, I myself argued in the House for an amendment to the Children and Adoption Bill that would have inserted a presumption in favour of shared parenting into the 1989 Act. The concerns that gave rise to that have not diminished today. It would be wrong for me to try to pre-empt the Government’s decision, but I can say that we are looking closely at all the options for promoting shared parenting through possible legislative and non-legislative means.

The debate is often polarised around two issues. On the one hand, we have the frustration that an obstructive resident parent can stop the non-resident parent seeing their child. On the other, there is, understandably, considerable pressure for robust safeguarding processes to ensure that potential welfare issues are properly identified and that care arrangements are safe. Ultimately, both concerns centre on harmful impacts on children, and any solution we come to must maintain a clear focus on the welfare of the child.

The Children Act 1989 is a landmark piece of legislation, and we approach any debate about amending it with the utmost caution. We are clear that the paramountcy principle, which has universal support, must not be diluted.

If the Government does as the Minister says, the writing is on the wall for the likes of Mummy, though it is still profoundly sad that she is choosing (helped by Little Grandad, we don't doubt) to do what she's doing. We all know that it's not quite that simple, though - in any case, imagine all the hundreds of thousands of Dads like me who will need to take their case back to court in the new world, and the extra damage that will be done by then.

Nevertheless, Mr Loughton, who got a hard time off me a year or so ago at conference, is on the right path in many respects. We must keep going.

Love from Daddy

Helping me to help others

2011-12-15T10:34:00.001Z

The view has changed, and the temperature fallen, since I was last in the Burger King opposite Stratford station. It's been about six months since the last of my weekly Thursday visits here for counselling. I have sat in this window seat many times, but not for a while.

The problems which brought me here remain, of course, but I never came expecting that to change here - what I gained were skills and confidence to tackle things nobody is meant to go through.

As a result, I have survived thus far, and my efforts here today will put a few quid in the pocket of our charitable endeavours - helping us to help others facing what first brought me here - the loss of their child.

At Christmas, that is probably one of the most poignant losses of all...

Love from Daddy

'I can understand'

2011-12-12T10:48:00.000Z

Being a disenfranchised Dad forces you to rediscover the joys of letter-writing. I been writing a good few as part of the 'Advent Challenge'.

Often you are up against people whose ideology makes them seem to think that it is ok to break the law if you think that in doing so you are helping a poor, downtrodden single Mum with a little boy whose Daddy isn't around any more. The callous monster.

Sometimes you are ignored, sometimes the law is broken further, sometimes people with no authority whatsoever try to exert it and leave you powerless until you've penetrated another layer of beauraucracy in order to bring them to book.

Which is why today, having sent an email which was very apologetic in its' tone, to someone who has been very helpful already, I was knocked out to receive a very blunt reply.

'I can understand. No probs.'

Yikes. Didn't expect that.

You never fully know the circumstances or life expeniences of those you deal with. I suppose it is not inconceivable that along the way we may even offer inspiration to other people facing difficult days, whom we meet in a professional capacity.

Hopefully my other efforts will yield some shockingly positive results, too.

Love from Daddy

Buh-bye, 'Cake'.

2011-12-11T19:02:00.001Z

Today we said goodbye to a member of the family. Well, to the extent that you bade it goodbye when you left the house for the last time!

You picked up all sorts of things we never actually taught you - even certain colloquialisms we used!

At a time when I was elsewhere and just marvelled at the fantastic advert (the 'engine oil' is my favourite bit!) Step Mum, being much wealthier in those days, went a step further. She had 'The Cake' from new, and today, after the world's most protracted sale, ever, it was eventually dropped off near the Midland Main Line to live with some Indians who stank our kitchen out and were a complete pain in the neck. 6 hours 15 minutes is certainly the most protracted sale I have ever been party to! I wouldn't mind, but they got a very good deal, I think...

Daddy tends to get more emotionally attached to inanimate objects than most people, he's just built that way, so it was quite a sad occasion. It was Step Mum's car and I was sorry for her that we had to let it go.

'The Cake' took Step Mum and I on our honeymoon, as far north as John o'Groats, and this week it bowed out in style with a trip to the continent and a lap of the Nurburgring. Its new owner passed her test this week, had to pay over three grand to insure it, and I think it is unlikely the car will do anything quite that exciting ever again! Her 'I know about cars' brother had to ask how the indicators worked, and why it had had new tyres after 30,000 miles, amongst other questions.

Anyway, the day is over, the car is gone and we are a little less indebted than we were. We remember all the happy trips we had in our 'cake', and now I must make sure the 'Bus' is in good shape for the winter!

We are still going on the Advent challenge. Some exciting things came back from the continent with us, and I've been busy on correspondence in between times today. Patience, young man!

Love from Daddy

Holiday hangover

2011-12-09T10:05:00.001Z

We're home safely. That's the good news.

Typically, though, as per every time I've been away for as long as I can now remember, we have come home to stressful correspondence on the mat, of various kinds - all of it expensive.

What a welcome.

Love from Daddy

Captain's Blog

2011-12-08T22:29:00.003Z

"I'm sorry for the late running and hope the crossing hasn't been too uncomfortable" said our Captain just now, three and a half hours into a two hour crossing, with an estimated half an hour to the berth.

Famous last words. As he thanked us for our attention, we crested another big one and dropped off the other side. Cue sound effects.

It's already been one of those crossings where you have to breathe like you're in labour, you can't go outside because you'll get soaked before you even hit the water, and the toilets have been out of bounds for some time.

The tunnel might be expensive, but we could have crossed the channel six times already using it in the time we've been at sea...

Dover's harbour beckons. Not a moment too soon!

Love from Daddy

Blowing a hoolie

2011-12-08T22:29:00.001Z

I'm writing this as our ferry turns in the harbour at Dunkirk.

As we head towards the channel, we are being told by the captain that he's expecting force 9 winds as we cross.

We've been into Aachen today, on our way home. The Christmas Market was a bit of a let down, but we found an enormous model railway....shop(!) amongst other things.

Aachen is famous for gingerbread, (the edible variety, not the man-hating 'single parenting as a right' organisation, whose latest piece for fathers is fooling nobody at all), which was fiendishly expensive, but we got you some. Hopefully that, and the postcard I sent you, will reach you and be understood.

We have been battling severe winds on the motorways of Europe for the last couple of days, so who knows what we are coming home to! We will need to check on our old house, which still stands empty.

Time for some sleep before the drive back from Dover, anyway.

Love from Daddy

Paddington hits the road

2011-12-07T22:30:00.001Z

We have talked before about the special place Paddington Bear, especially his bronze incarnation at the station from which he took his name.

On your last journey back to Devon, I let you stop by to bid him a Happy Christmas:

'Little Panton', as you called him, has covered some miles now. He normally lives in my Army tunic pocket.

He came to the wedding, he's been to the European Commission, the House of Lords. He's been as far north as the Butt of Lewis and as far south as the Mosel valley.

Today, sat on Step Mum's lap, in a gap in the foul and cold weather, Little Paddington lapped the Nurburgring!

He and Step Mum, and the car, were then allowed to go to the shop and choose a sticker.

Other people take their children round. Other people buy things from the shop for them. We just have to look wistfully at things like that, and the children we have seen everywhere enjoying the Christmas markets, and wonder how you are.

What I promise you is this - if you ever want to come to the 'ring with your Dad, (Paddington is optional!) you only have to ask.

Love from Daddy

The Horrible Anniversary

2011-12-06T20:11:00.001Z

Today, we've been in Cologne, more of which another day, but on this horrible anniversary our thoughts often turned to you - especially in the toy department!

I have few words today, and insufficient IT to make it all happen. This, then, is the moment we finished saying our prayers and set off to leave our house for what was the last time.

You said goodbye to the cars, to Paddington, and to me - and that was that. You can read here about how that felt.

The cut-and-shut CAFCASS quote was this:

"I am concerned that should [Daddy] secure residence he would perpetuate his agenda of promoting a very negative image of [Mummy]. [Mummy] in turn would have less opportunity to mitigate against this ; consequence being that [you]'s attachment with his mother would be placed in jeopardy as he may start to incorporate his father's belief system"

The truth is that:

"Having secured residence, Mummy has perpetuated her agenda of promoting a very negative image of Daddy whilst pursuing total parental alienation. Daddy in turn has had no opportunity to mitigate against this; consequence being that [you]'s attachment with his Father has been destroyed, and in time he will start to incorporate his mother's belief system"

Is anyone responsible for the coming to pass of everything I warned of a year ago?

Oh yes.

Will anything be done to rectify things?

Not unless I keep fighting, no. Nobody cares quite like I do.

Love from Daddy

The clock becomes a calendar

2011-12-06T09:05:00.001Z

It is a year today since we last saw each other.

We are doing something different today, to reduce the pain of the anniversary, but I will post some thoughts on how you and I faced that most difficult of days, this evening.

I think most of all, today, I am pondering the fact that so few people seemed truly to believe that this was coming at the end of last year. They thought things would be sorted out. They thought Mummy would see sense. They thought the courts would play fair.

Last year, CAFCASS's contractor warned that if you lived with me, your attachment to Mummy might suffer. Despite there having never been any evidence of this, the opposite has proved really rather accurate.

What's more, today there will be other Dads going through the process, all over the country.

Love from Daddy

Busking on the tube

2011-12-04T19:26:00.001Z

Well, we've had an eventful and slightly time-challenged journey down the motorway tonight, but we're nearly at our stopover.

Today marked a year since you last went to the Army with us. Step Mum made biscuits with you, which we took for you to share with your friends.

We started the day by staging 'Christmas Morning' for you. There were presents at the foot of your bed, which were only played with once in some cases. Your guitar went busking on the tube, and 'James II' went for his first outing to 'Mini-Praise'. You practiced with the other children for a performance they would ultimately give without you.

I can't describe how it felt for us to be wrapping presents for you, knowing that giving them to you might be one of the last things we did with you for, well, who knows how long.

I'm not sure very many people at the Army actually realised the likelihood that they really were watching the dying hours of the father-son relationship which began at your birth, but of course we were right - and a year on, pretty much everything I predicted as the worst case has come to pass.

Although Tuesday is the anniversary, Monday was 'going away day' - and so the loss will feel most acute then, I am sure. For this reason we have taken the week off work and will be doing other things.

Hopefully the anniversary will stir a few consicences - though it is a matter of some regret that it has taken the passing of a year for some people to truly recognise the magnitude of the situation.

We will keep trying.

Love from Daddy

I wonder what you'd like?

2011-12-03T20:15:00.001Z

Mummy and I, both growing up in the Salvation Army, had plenty of shared childhood references.

The Christmases of our childhood were traditionally linked in some way to singing company repertoire, some of which was good, some of which was truly dire. I shared one such piece last year.

We used to share a joke about the particularly contrived song which featured the words, aimed at the Baby Jesus:

"I'll have to get you something;
I wonder what you'd like?
Could it be the same as me?
(Child 1) A train set!
(Child 2) A doll's house!
(Child 3) A bike!"

It is very hard to buy Christmas presents for a little boy of 3 whom you don't really know. Mummy is a TV fashion victim, which makes it harder to stay 'on trend' without watching a lot of CBeebies, something I have little time or excuse for right now. I always prided myself on knowing what you would like to do, or have as a present - last 'Christmas' I even gave in two days early - you unwrapped your main present a year ago last night! I wanted you to be able to play with it, with me. We had such fun, but I was screaming inside, because, as we know now, I had correctly guessed Mummy's intentions.

I was in Debenhams today when it dawned on me that I don't know what to get you - or how best to deliver it.

None of the birthday and Christmas presents sent to you by your paternal family have ever been acknowledged. We have evidence of certain deliveries, to Nottingham, to the Nursery and elsewhere, but never any evidence that you have ever received anything meant for you.

This is curious, and paradoxically inevitable, given the history of your maternal family - the ones who have been steadily airbrushing your past for the last two years. You would hope they would be anxious for history not to repeat itself.

You see, when she was a little girl, Mummy never saw much of her maternal grandfather.

Your Grandma's parents divorced, and had to come out of Officership, as was the way in those days, when Grandma was a child. By the time I came on the scene, many years later, your Great-Grandma and her second husband (who were both unfailingly kind to me and in whose home I lived for a while) had a friendly relationship with your Great-Grandad. He even used to come to visit - but only behind Little Grandad's back.

You are not the first person whose parental relationships your Little Grandad has sought to control - no, he did it to his own wife first.

He was even doing it when I lived on the doorstep - I would be sworn to secrecy by Mummy and Grandma if ever your Great-Grandad came visiting - usually arranged to coincide with our holidays.

Mummy told me about how many of her birthdays and Christmases passed with little or nothing from her Grandad. He missed our wedding - and your dedication. The only person to whom he was unwelcome was Little Grandad. It always saddened me. When I met him, he never struck me as the man I'd imagined based on the tales I'd been told.

I wonder, then, how Mummy, who used to be so upset about feeling abandoned by her Grandad, can square it in her own mind to do that with your Daddy.

When I married your Mum, we got a card from her Grandad. It said that if we visited him, he would love to help us choose a present. I remember well my cynicism - but I remember, too, the warmth with which we were both received when we went to his home. And now, I understand a whole lot better.

I wonder whether those special occasions during Mummy's childhood really did pass unremembered, or whether as with you, she only saw nothing and supposed such. Naturally, I wonder, too, if you are already being made to think I've forgotten you or let you down, when the truth is anything but.

The evidence will win out - but how much will we lose first - and will Mummy herself, for doing Little Grandad's bidding, be the one who is the loser when you uncover the deception?

I will keep leaving clues along life's trail to evidence my love for you, and the efforts we have all made. I can't guarantee that you will actually receive anything tangible from me this Christmas, but one day you will know that a day never passed without you being remembered, cared, and catered for.

Love from Daddy

Precious word of truth

2011-12-02T11:32:00.001Z

I've had encounters with ministers from Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland this week, the Mayor, and a Christmas tree from Oslo.

On Wednesday, in the company of a friend from Wales, I was at the Palace of Westminster once more, where I was introduced to the Moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, Right Rev. David Arnott, who was in parliament for St Andrew's day. Another affirming encounter, another opportunity for mutual witness, afforded by uniform.Last night, unusually, I was in uniform when Step Mum and I called into McDonalds on the way home from Songster practice, and as a result we ended up speaking to the young man who served us about what we believe, which had stirred interest.

Anyway, I rose this morning after a disturbed night's sleep not expecting what came. I stuck the television on and by chance, as I ran through the channels, noticed that 'Precious word of truth', the programme made by the Whitewell Metropolitan Tabernacle in Belfast, was on. It's a favourite of Grandma and Big Grandad's - and I used to often watch it. In fact, I tried to take Mummy to Belfast to see Pastor James McConnell a while back. He's a fabulous preacher, and an inspiring author for anyone who would preach, or plant a church.

Anyway, this morning, I put Pastor McConnell on just as he was reading from the first book of Kings. We have looked at the passage before - almost a year ago today.

I'd love for people to take the time to watch or listen to his sermon in full - but here are some quotes which caught my eye, which are not only pertinent to our circumstances but to many others, too:

"Where true ties of love exist, we seek to safeguard at any cost that which is dear to us, even at the risk of losing it ourselves. That is the character of love."

"Justice required that the other woman be punished for her lies and her fraud - she fades into history."

"If an immoral woman be merciful for the son of her body, and cannot forget her little child, how much more should every christian mother be ready to offer, when necessary, the heaviest sacrifice to deliver her child from moral ruin."

And finally, a warning:

"I know what happened to Solomon... that brilliant, beautiful, anointed young kind, grew older, lost his anointing, and he too went out into eternity. Where is he tonight?

"Solomon was promised long life, longer than this father. David died at seventy... God promised that Solomon would live longer than that; he died at 64... because he didn't keep God's covenant. The promise was conditional."

Focuses the mind somewhat!

Love from Daddy.

Advent and 'Known Unknowns'

2011-12-01T21:29:00.001Z

Last year I set myself an advent challenge - every day, I aimed to do at least one thing, to complete one task, for you. I've decided to reprise it.

Some of the things I do I will be able to share. Others will have to remain a secret because we don't want anyone spoiling them. Still others, I will keep 'wrapped' hoping that you can enjoy them in person one day.

It reminds me of Donald Rumsfeld's famous quote:

"Reports that say that something hasn't happened are always interesting to me, because as we know, there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns -- the ones we don't know we don't know."

That pretty much sums up the 'Cold War' which Mummy wages, and the position we are left in - but she, in turn, leaves herself in the same position.

Now that I have time, I am catching her up. The trail is still warm.

People who were stupid enough to misuse influence and professional privilege to help Mummy's seldom, but sometimes, admitted aim of crippling me and alienating us, are now being queued up to be challenged. Back in 2010 we couldn't spare the effort to pursue all the things which were done, but now we can. In time I may be able to share some results.

Of all Rumsfeld's categories, the 'Known Unknowns' are the worst for me to deal with - especially because of the precedent of some of the 'Known knowns'.

That's not to say for a moment that that's all the advent challenge will be about - far from it! Nevertheless, standing my ground, especially when it comes to asserting parental responsibility, is crucial to my ongoing chances of being a father to you, and being able to do all the other stuff that parents do. To respect my parental responsibility is to show respect for us both.

This Daddy's not done yet!

Love from Daddy

Challenge on the Tube

2011-11-30T09:50:00.001Z

In one of my sporadic returns to the morning commute, I saw a poster on the 'Jube' this morning from Google:

"Why share everything you say with everyone you know?"

Fair question - in today's Metro I read that a bloke working in an Apple store got fired for slagging off his iPhone. Someone else I can't work for, then!

This blog has itself been exhibited in a court of law, being, as it was, selectively (although not very intelligently) reprinted in Mummy's last non-mol application. Every word I write, I cast into cyberspace knowing it will definitely be read by those who would use it against me. You might imagine therefore that I weigh my words carefully - and I do - but I do that anyway.

Mummy doesn't share everything she says with everyone she knows, because the tales she tells don't stack up when confronted with her arch-enemy, the truth. More and more people are learning that when her word is given, it is worthless.

I left a group of people last week and appended this message to my parting shot:

8 Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things."

Philippians 4:8

If you speak by the same reasoning, you can say it all to anyone.

Love from Daddy

Madness

2011-11-29T12:57:00.001Z

Some of our readers may have seen this already; I first heard about it when the BTP were tweeting yesterday looking for the woman...

What I cannot believe is that the words coming out of this woman's mouth are the primary preoccupation of so many people.

What of the child on her knee?

Is nobody capable of seeing that what comes from the mouth of this damaged creature is just another by-product of something far more serious - something that is compromising her ability not only to hold herself together but to parent a little boy?

Yes, by all means give her a measly sentance for racially-aggravated verbal assault. But seriously, do you think that someone given time to counsel her would say that her only and primary problem is her views on immigration? What's the betting we would be dealing with drink, drugs and family breakdown?

All of which brings the little boy's position into sharper focus. Our society forcibly takes children from loving parents to meet quotas; it ignores the plight of fathers and sons like us, and yet this poor little boy is left to suffer from his mother's malaise.

In many regards, actually, the same is true of you as it is of the little boy in the video.

Until that young woman started mouthing off on the bus, nobody was interested. Likewise, until Mummy's behaviour bothers people, nobody will take any interest in the defects in her reasoning, and the hurt behind the jumbled and offensive outcomes.

In both cases, until someone does that, recognises that Mum needs help and the child needs the security of a good Dad, the child suffers quietly.

That more people seem to be bothered about a young, incoherant woman saying (at an extreme) what many Daily Mail readers legitimately think, than the risk she poses to that little one, is the most shocking piece of this puzzle of all, in my book.

In possibly not dissimilar services, 'Baby P' died - and his Dad, like me, had been frozen out of his life, having done nothing wrong. Little Peter died. Many others are spared that fate only to become damaged people themselves.

I often think of 'Baby P's Dad, who must still be out there somewhere. In practical terms, he was powerless to protect his son - and yet I feel sure that he, like me, will still feel pangs of responsibility for things which he did not bring to pass.

I look at the video again and see only the little boy, pondering the what, why and where of his father - and the madness of the preoccupations of the masses.

Love from Daddy

Farewell, Mr Southouse...

2011-11-27T21:46:00.001Z

Garrow's Law is still on, on BBC1.

It has reduced Step Mum to tears.

Someone just tweeted that we used to be a cruel society.

More fool them.

Love from Daddy.

Little boy lost

2011-11-24T19:16:00.001Z

I was casually watching the television yesterday, keeping an eye on another one of those 'People getting rescued' programmes. A little boy had got lost on a beach in the west country.

My mind was drawn for a moment to a very famous piece of film, from back in 1961...

John Schlesinger's award winning 1961 film, 'Terminus' told a whole day in the life of Waterloo station, from weddings to funerals, holidaymakers to prisoners - but it is Matthew Perry and his toy seal whom everyone remembers. Schlesinger, working under the legendary Edgar Anstey at British Transport Films, still comes under fire today, thanks to YouTube's comments, for filming the piece.

The thing is, though, it is so compelling because it is so very authentic.

When you were small, you had a bit of a propensity to make a run for it - and would go some considerable distance before checking whether anyone was still with you! Inevitably, though, you would stop and turn, usually calling "c'mon, Daddy!" if I wasn't keeping pace to your liking.

Invariably, though, I would be right behind you - letting you run on and make your own way, letting you choose your own direction, letting you pursue what caught your interest, but always there to keep you safe - and to help you make sense of new discoveries.

Now, though, you are indeed lost; led away from me by someone in whom your infant trust was sadly misplaced - your own mother - and we approach the first anniversary of our last seeing one another. It remains the case that Mummy is clearly determined to keep things that way.

In the same way that Matthew Perry's Mummy was never far away, and turned up as soon as a meeting place was established, I am nearer to you right now than even I feel - and as soon as you are old enough to realise you've lost me and call for me, I will be right there. If she carries on, unlike those of previous generations, Mummy will live in fear of your ability to use the internet.

In recent weeks people have spoken warmly of my tenacity in upholding our cause. If this year is only the beginning, well, so be it.

I will never be far away, and I am still watching out for you.

Love from Daddy

The Lions, the Band and the Police Car

2011-11-24T08:43:00.001Z

Sunday before last was a day of remembrance across the country, and in a different way a day where you were very much remembered - by family and friends, and by total strangers.

This year, Daddy and I joined once more in our church's march to the Cenotaph for our service of remembrance. It was a gorgeous, warm, sunny November day this year, with people crowding the entire route of our march. Different in many ways to last year, when it rained and we marched down grey, deserted streets.

Different also because last year, I shared that march with you.

Daddy marched with the band for the first time that weekend last year, so we were unexpectedly on our own. You were undoubtedly more excited about the prospect than anyone else present.

We lined up with the Songsters, and I got ready for an endurance test- no pushchair (that's a story of its own!) and now no Daddy to help carry you.

I needn't have worried. You were determined to march. "Me walk on-a myself".

And walk you did. You marched the length of Regent Street to Piccadilly, one hand tight in mine and the other held by Philippa. You shouted "bang" every time Darren walloped the big bass drum, and impressed everyone with how well you did. At Piccadilly (under protest) I had to pick you up. Although you were very keen to keep marching, your little legs were getting outpaced. We marched along listening to Daddy belting out his part in the band, and you kept me in step by joining in with the drum, shouting "bang" on my ear with each beat.

You had your first visit to Trafalgar Square - a very brief one. You very quickly spotted the lions and made the Songsters smile by roaring at them, as you did at Songster leader two weeks later as he recited The story of 'Albert and the Lion'. You also very sagely advised that the fountains go "sploshhh" as we passed, before snuggling you head down on my shoulder and falling asleep three paces later.

You slept on my shoulder the whole way through the cenotaph service, and even the bass drum didn't wake you as we set off back to the hall.

At Leicester Square, our police escort car pulled alongside and offered us a ride. You woke up in the back of the police car, most impressed. When we got out at the hall, your new policeman friend showed you the flashing lights on the top of the car, and his sirens (which made you jump a bit!). You showed him your poppy and told him that it means "memember". We said a very enthusiastic thank you to the officer and went to tell Daddy what we'd been up to.

Although it was a super afternoon, it left Daddy and I in a quandary. You were telling everyone that you'd seen a lion and been in a police car. We weren't too sure that Mummy would understand the context in which you'd been in a police car, so we wrote a careful entry in your handover book so she wouldn't worry.

This year, you were very much missed. Daddy and I thought of you as we passed each landmark. A lady waiting at the cenotaph called me over to ask where you were. She's not part of our regular congregation, but she'd been at the cenotaph last year and remembered you, cuddled up in your Thomas the Tank coat with your poppy, asleep in my arms.

I wonder whether you wore your poppy this year. I wonder what, if anything, you remember from last year? Whether you do or not, I hope one day you will know that you were remembered.

Love from Step Mum

Special Journeys

2011-11-18T19:39:00.000Z

Well, I reckon I'm just about 'breasting the tape' as I reach the end of this week. There has been an awful lot to get done - so many disparate things, too! Recovering from the trip to the Cenotaph, meetings, drafting documents, a lengthy technical support problem with our IT, sorting out websites, and that on top of the ongoing task of compiling my detailed response to the FJR, which is still not complete yet. All I can say is, Mr Norgrove has done a very good job with the smoke and mirrors.

This weekend we are going away long-distance 'specialling' with the songsters. Totally unexpectedly, into my inbox this morning arrived some pictures of a pioneering band trip from years ago. The anatomy of a visit remains generally unchanged...

You might have already spotted a younger-looking Big Grandad in the pictures, along with two of his maternal uncles.

As we head up the motorway tomorrow for more of the same, we look forward to meeting old friends and making new ones, to whom, as ever, we will have to tell 'the story'.

A year ago this next week we were making a similar journey, on what we feared, rightly, would be your last holiday with me. The video cropped up on the computer the other day, and made Step Mum and I laugh at your Pendolino-seeking acrobatics.

I'd better crack on - still lots to sort out for the weekend - and then, by the looks of it, it is Christmas - for several weeks!

Love from Daddy

Let's get this over with

2011-11-13T04:44:00.000Z

It is 0427.

I woke myself a few minutes ago, yelling because I was having a dream in which I was giving a speech at a photographic trade show in the palace of Westminster, which everyone present got up and left gradually, Suddenly, I'd managed to get you off Mummy with her back turned, in a shopping centre food hall, only to by slowed up by some idiot bystander reversing their chair into me and attacked by Little Grandad, the evil gnome.

It became apparent upon waking that I have a stinking mouth ulcer, right on my embouchure, my left achilles tendon is sore, and I think something I ate is making me feel sick.

Having realised all this, I then had a sneezing fit and am therefore now wide awake, feeling rotten but trying not to disturb Step Mum. I've already done a typing job to take to the Army, to try and take my mind off it all.

I have been looking forward to, and dreading, today, all week. I spent much of yesterday with heat packs on my bad shoulder, and drove to Maidenhead for a new tuba harness to try and spread the load off it.

Now I just want it all over with.

Love from Daddy

Mer-member

2011-11-11T23:39:00.000Z

As I paused at the eleventh hour, of the eleventh month of 2011, I couldn't help but think of the Dads who this country is happy to send off to die for their country, to whom the right to father their children is denied by the same powers.

I thought, too, of you. Last year we taught you about poppies. "What does the poppy mean?" we asked you. "Mer-member" came the answer.

You wore your poppy when I took you to Stonehenge this time last year; perhaps Step Mum will tell the story of Remembrance Sunday itself another day. Somehow I managed to do a video by accident, when I tried to take your picture (I'd only just got the iPhone!), but when you play it you will see why I look at it often, because it makes me smile and reminds me of how happy we were together.

Your poppy has sat in your room with your treasures this past year. I might see about wearing it on Sunday if I can attach it.

Unlike those lost in war, age will weary us both, and the years condemn - our lives go on in one anothers' absence - but at the going down of the sun, and every morning, you are more than remembered. I know it is unlikely that you will remember me so much, being the age you are, but that's what Dads are for.

God bless you son. I will have a little roar at the lions on Sunday, just for you.

Love from Daddy

FJR in pictures

2011-11-10T20:24:00.000Z

I am still working on the FJR - but when I produced this, I realised it told a lot of the story...

Love from Daddy

Enaid gwan, parham yr ofni?

2011-11-09T01:11:00.000Z

It's been a funny couple of weeks. Lots of changes are afoot.

Last night I was sat working on the Family Justice Review (which I have literally just finished reading and marking up, all 220 pages of it, plus the Children's version) and decided to have a bash at getting our old Sky+ box working.

When I was allowed my three hours to moved out, since I was paying the subscription, I removed the Sky+ box. After all, stored on it were all my favourite editions of Dechrau Canu, Dechrau Canmol'. I bought you a digibox for the telly though, so you weren't deprived of being able to watch CBeebies. Mummy never got it out of the box - it was delivered back to me unopened. I tried.

Ever since, the Sky box has been sat at Grandma and Big Grandad's house, until the other week, when I brought it back with the latest instalment of my possessions. Much of my stuff is still at their house.

Anyway, with a bit of swapping of leads I managed to connect it up, and went straight to the recording of the Cymanfa Ganu from the 2009 Eisteddfod in Bala.When we went to church in Wales, I was getting into learning the language through the medium of hymn singing, and learning with it all the lovely hymn tunes which never made it over the border. The Cymanfa was superb - I watched the show from Bala live, wishing I could have gone, but at two hours, it would have been a long stretch and a late night for you. Over the following weeks, you and I watched the programme together, sometimes with 'Caneuon Ffydd', the Welsh hymnal, out on the settee, matching up tunes and words.

It was odd watching again a snapshot of video recordings from my annus horribilus, the year I suffered much and had to leave your mother, but I was reminded by words of Elved's, which translate as 'Feeble spirit, why do you fear? The mind of God is love'.

As I say, lots of change and upheaval this week but yesterday evening brought unexpected good news equal to it. I didn't dare to believe a few weeks ago that things might be as they are now, but the 'man with the plan' seems to be taking a continued interest in us.

I was reminded tonight particularly of the fact that sometimes a change of direction is necessary, even if we don't see it coming. We said goodbye tonight to a family from church, one of the children of whom in particular was especially kind to you last year, who are embarking on such a change, and as I came home on the tube, I re-read Deuteronomy 31, which I quoted on the petition we raised in your name earlier in the year and often think of in relation to your departure from us:

¹ Then Moses went and spoke these words to all the Israelites:² "I am now one hundred twenty years old, and I cannot lead you anymore. The Lord told me I would not cross the Jordan River;³ the Lord your God will lead you across himself. He will destroy those nations for you, and you will take over their land. Joshua will also lead you across, as the Lord has said.⁴ The Lord will do to those nations what he did to Sihon and Og, the kings of the Amorites, when he destroyed them and their land.⁵ The Lord will give those nations to you; do to them everything I told you.⁶ Be strong and brave. Don't be afraid of them and don't be frightened, because the Lord your God will go with you. He will not leave you or forget you."
⁷ Then Moses called Joshua and said to him in front of the people, "Be strong and brave, because you will lead these people into the land the Lord promised to give their ancestors, and help them take it as their own.⁸ The Lord himself will go before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forget you. Don't be afraid and don't worry."
Deut.31, NCV

As God presided over the hand-over from Moses to Joshua, and set the children of Israel off into a new chapter of their existence, he wanted them to know that they were in good hands.

Amidst the upheaval lurks opportunity, hitherto unseen. It is time for this feeble spirit to step out of the shadow of fear and to push on, knowing that I (like you!) am neither left nor forgotten.

At which juncture, I'd better get to bed. I have things to do tomorrow - who knows, the Welsh practice might come in handy!

Love from Daddy.

Frankie has left the building

2011-11-08T15:27:00.000Z

Thank goodness for that. Frankie Cocozza is off the X-Factor.

X-Factor is rather like the family justice system. It encourages and fuels certain behaviours, which, if you were already pre-disposed to them, will spiral out of control and do harm. I'm not sure we got quite the full story on the lad with Army connections from 'The Risk', who pulled out. Perhaps they were making him into something he didn't want to be.

Unfortunately, as I spend another day working on a response to the Family Justice Review, Norgrove and co. seem not to have sussed out the fact that rewarding misbehaviour, or failing to punish it, doesn't lead to winning outcomes. Frankie has learned that lesson to his great cost.

Love from Daddy

What a mess

2011-11-05T23:53:00.000Z

It was just under a year ago that I was talking about the dangers of the M5 in your neck of the woods, and last night illustrated the point. Seven confirmed dead so far and what a mess.

Ever since this morning when I heard about it, it's been playing on my mind.

The chances that you were involved are, quite clearly, statistically slight - but there is every possibility you might have been on the northbound M5 at that time on a Friday night.

This evening, we had what turned out to be a rather testing outing to IKEA at Wembley and to get some parts for the bus - I changed the oil on Monday before Step Mum went west for the week, several thousand miles and several years late, and tried to finish servicing it tonight. Just the coolant, brake and clutch fluids to change now.

We needed a new desk - to replace the one which Step Mum hurriedly sold early last year to make way for a little boy's bed. Providentially we picked up just what we needed in the bargain area, which seems to happen often.

What I hate about going to IKEA is the way they force you to walk right the way round the showroom every visit. That means that just before I get to the stairs to the warehouse I am forced to walk through the children's section.

I still struggle sometimes to cope with being surrounded by other people and their children, and to have that on top of all the toys and furniture, with which you used to play (we were talking tonight about how you just tucked yourself into a bed and nodded off on one visit!) is all a bit much. Sometimes, and I know this sounds daft, Step Mum has to lead me through there with my eyes shut in mitigation.

Tonight my thoughts bounced back to the M5 - the road back from Mummy's nearest IKEA to her home. I've driven it enough times. What struck me was less the minimal likelihood that you had come to harm, but more the fact that I simply don't know. If you had died last night it is quite possible that the first I would know was when I read your obituary in the Salvationist. No hospital Mummy has taken you to since she returned to Devon has ever known I existed.

The Norgrove report has this week started to bring home to the general public the fact that a Dad like me genuinely has no rights whatsoever. The fact that I only want to have rights, and exercise them, so I can do my best for you, makes it all the harder.

Step Mum has had a pretty horrible week and is away again on Monday for most of the week. She's still working now. All I can do for now is support her, since she spends so much time and effort supporting me - now more than ever, it might be said.

Love from Daddy

You never get it back

2011-11-03T13:48:00.001Z

I was in the garage yesterday, which is becoming a nicer place to work now I have heat and light. It also means I've been able to move the car seats out of the house!

I now have a radio, too, which for a change I had on Absolute Radio rather than my usual choice of Classic FM or Radio 3 yesterday when this track came on, which, incredibly, I had never heard before. Apparently it went to number one. Shows I'm getting older I suppose!

Daddy is generally more disposed to 'burning up the bypass', but actually it made me think of our day out with 'Oliver' last year. Your Dad doesn't have a JCB, but occasionally chugs along the railway line in his steam engine. We've even been past your nursery.

Either way, I thought it was a cracking little song.

Thing is, every day you are losing out on the sorts of things the songwriter was digging at, which we all remember from our childhood, if we were lucky enough to have had them.

While I was tidying up the other day, I had just such a recollection when I found a picture from the night I managed to get myself on Songs of Praise and in the local paper. Your Great Nana had a framed copy of it on the wall when she lived in Southport.

I remember vaguely going 'exploring' during the recording, and ending up popping out from under the stage itself as they were finishing. Somehow the photographer managed to get Big Grandad and I together for the picture, and then interviewed Grandma on the 'phone, as I recall.

It's all the more poignant because I was only talking the other day to one of your friends from the Army, who you used to conduct the band with, who is also four and also tells me that he's going to play the Trombone like his Dad. You are unlikely to be telling anyone you want to be like your Daddy, because you don't know him any more.

Big Grandad has never been a tuba player - he was helping out because they were short, but funnily enough Daddy has turned into one. I don't have a picture but I wish I did of how I used to sit you on my lap between me and my 'Double B' whilst playing with the band on a Sunday night.

I have fond memories of my trip to St Albans Abbey back in 1986, and the relationship I had and the interests I shared with my Dad made me, and continue to make me, who I am - but that part of my life is a closed chapter now, which I read with familiarity and pleasure, but cannot write any more of. I am convinced that good Dads are those who can remember vividly what it was like to be a little boy. That's why I fear for your future. How will you know how to be a Daddy if you never had one?

Today has been very busy, responding to the Family Justice Review, which will do neither of us any good, but the decision to deprive you of half your family, and particularly your Dad, is Mummy's (and Little Grandad's).

Maybe one day Mummy will have a 'Family Justice Review' of her own. The courts didn't make her do what she's done - they let her.

What is being taken from you now is in nobody's gift to give back to you later. It will be too late. The question is just how much you lose.

I will always be your Dad, and I'll pick life up and run with it whenever you come back. But it saddens me that no amount of reconciliation, no amount of money or goodwill, can ever give you back what you've already lost, and continue to lose, from your childhood, not least the unique relationship a little boy has with his Dad. I'm sorry that's so.

Love from Daddy

Family Justice Rejected

2011-11-03T08:11:00.001Z

I'm sure I am not the only father who has woken this morning sick in the stomach thanks to the despicable Norgrove report, the leaks of which may yet prove not to be the worst of the content.

Today is one of the worst days for children like you and families like ours in the last two decades.

More as I have it.

Love from Daddy

It happened - A blog about a blog

2011-11-02T10:35:00.000Z

This blog has nearly been started innumerable times. I imagine starting is the most difficult bit of this blogging lark, so let's get it over and done with.

It will serve, I hope, two purposes.

First, it will serve as an insight into the life of a devoted Dad, wronged by an abusive ex-wife and almost destroyed by the unaccountable, secret, family courts. A window on the world of a father being torn from his little boy.

Second, I hope one day it will allow my (now two-year-old) son, with the benefit of understanding and maturity, to understand something of what his Dad went through as he fought to try and stay in his life.

A year ago today, I did it. I hit the 'publish' button.

I overcame the most painful case of writer's block and cracked on with telling for posterity a story which is as common as it is unique - a live, access-all-areas documentary of what the family courts and a vindictive woman together do to a father.

A year and over 35,000 visits later, it seems appropriate to take stock, and do a rare 'blog about the blog'. The content over the past year is there for all to see, so I thought I would share a little bit from behind the scenes.

This blog was originally a diary, given to me by my parents at Christmas 2009. Almost immediately it became a journal of what my life became on 6 January 2010, when I lost my home - and lost my son. After almost a year, I decided that I should not only record what I was writing in such a way that it could be found on the web, but I should start to expose to others the life I, in common with thousands of other Dads, was living.

I set myself very few rules at first, except that the written style would use the literary device of writing to my son in person. It personalises the content. One day, my son will read this and understand that everything I said and did was with him in mind. Without the boy, there would be no blog.

Whilst I had a couple of weeks off with no signal whilst on honeymoon with Step-Mum, and inspiration and motivation alike ebb and flow, I've managed an average of roughly a post a day over the last year, which is what I had in mind. I may not manage that in perpetuity, but writing 'LfD', including the posts I drafted in my head and never wrote, provides a focal point in my day to think about my son and in an obscure manner, maintain an active relationship with him.

We have covered all manner of topics from architecture to zebras - and of course we've done a lot of family law and associated nastiness. Over the coming days I am going to pick out some of my favourite, and you, the readers' favourite pieces and see what they tell us down the line.

I fully expected that the blog would be used as a weapon against me - indeed it has been, in court and elsewhere - but it has also been a force for good, helping other Dads and other families to understand what they are going through, and that they don't do so alone. My willingness to publish redacted documents and to talk about what happens at court, on the doorstep and in dealings with solicitors, doubtless has some bearing on this. How I wish more Dads would do it - the intelligence would be priceless.

I have to say that whilst many people read, of those known to me only some seem to understand - indeed some people who have worked incredibly hard for our family are kindly but openly critical of this blog's (continued) existence. The fact is, I have lost nothing more than I would have done anyway, and 'Love from Daddy' has made powerful people sit up and take notice.

In many respects, 'LfD' is a ticking time bomb under 'Mummy' and 'Little Grandad'. Despite their best efforts, one day my son will be able to find and read this, and make up his own mind about me. One day, when he is old enough, if I am still cut out of his life I will name him. As the clock at the top of the page continues to tick, the legacy they are storing up for themselves becomes ever more dangerous to them and their lies.

At the same time, there are many people from all walks of life to whom I am most grateful for their constructive criticism, encouragement, interest and practical endeavour - and I have to thank Step Mum, from whom you have heard from time to time, for her love and support - and proof reading!

Often I have wondered if I had made my point and should retire from this work - but since readership continues to grow, and for as long as I can fulfil the two aims I set out a year ago today, I will carry on for now.

In any case, the story isn't over yet.

Love to you all,

Daddy.

Keep the change, you filthy animal

2011-10-31T19:19:00.000Z

Tonight I find it opportune to cut back to some practical family law, for you, and for the uninitiated. This is an example of how something totally ridiculous suddenly becomes material to a child's life...

Here is a video from two years ago tonight:

Mummy, 5/1/10, in her application to have me thrown out of the house and separated from you, decided to reference it in her case for a Non-molestation order, a residence order for you, and an occupation order for our house, which was all granted ex parte (ie without me being allowed to answer the accusations first). Here is her account:

"18. Some of the Respondent's actions towards other people also give me cause for concern. For example at Halloween the Respondent fills a compressor full of urine, tomato ketchup, old nappies, egg and other items which smell and are disgusting. then when children come to our door trick or treating he squirts the liquid through the door on the children. I am concerned for the Respondent's state of mind that would cause him to do such a thing"

Now I have the video clip in my possession, but of course being barred from the house as a result of the accusation made it impossible for me to field it at court. Here is my response, from 22/1/11:

"79. Paragraph 18: On the evening of Halloween in 2008, I returned to the house after work to find [Mummy] disturbed by youths who had been banging on the lounge window shouting "open up" at her when she didn't open the door to them. Since she had been at home alone with a three month old child, I felt it was reasonble for her to have been frightened by this. To raise her mood, we set up the air compressor and sprayed the youths who thumped on the door during the evening with various things we found in the kitchen. It was good, clean fun, which [Mummy] enjoyed participating in. In 2009 we decided to reprise the game, complete with a recorded soundtrack from the film 'Home Alone' which I prepared. [Mummy] once again participated, operating the CD player and the video camera. In the piece of film she recorded, the childrens' laughter on the other side of the door can be clearly heard. I used warm water and washing up liquid as the primary constituents of the mixture and at no time on either occasion did I use bodily fluids. I do not believe that such activity calls into question my state of mind, and in any case, [Mummy] was a willing participant. I cannot exhibit the footage of the evening at this time because it is stored on my computer in the matrimonial home, which I am presently barred from entering."

Watch the clip again and ask yourself which is the most plausible account...

How sad that Mummy's ability to simply lie through her teeth is so ingrained. It is but one example, and others know from their own experience about this.

How sad that the justice system is designed to lap up such nonsense. Most Dads can exhibit examples like this, and much more serious ones.

How sad that this trivia is the sort of thing upon which the courts acted to determine the shape of your childhood.

Love from Daddy

Survival of the sickest

2011-10-31T08:35:00.001Z

The change in the clocks has made the queue worse this morning, it would seem, for the carry-on you have to go through to see a doctor here.

Last Wednesday, the soonest I could get an appointment was 7 November, but by standing in the cold and wet outside the surgery first thing in the morning, I, and about a 20 strong queue, hope to secure an appointment today. It particularly amazes me how the vast majority of those in front of me don't speak english, yet have also cracked the system.

Oh dear. Only half the queue through and the loss of one particular doctor from the roster has been announced. Looking good for me though, as a number have given up the chase at that...

...Yup, I'm in, but I've got over an hour to wait. The queue is still stretching outside, and in the background, over the strains of Classic FM, the forlorn sound of an unanswered 'phone runs constantly - it will remain so until the queue, and with it probably all the appointments, has gone!

Sure enough, that's the case. Queue gone, the receptionists are now repeatedly reciting 'nothing for today, can it wait?' 'ring back at six tonight for tomorrow's appointments, or come to the door at half eight tomorrow'. It does seem that if you are persistent and cite exciting symptoms though, you can get round them and secure a 'five minute emergency appointment'.

Survival of the sickest!

Let the waiting commence...

Love from Daddy

Reopening old rooms

2011-10-29T12:39:00.001+01:00

Step Mum is nearer to you than to me this week. I have been left with the house to myself.

I decided it was about time I tried to break the back of the boxes of my stuff which have been piled up in the dining room since I moved in. District Judge Wallace decided that, after I had haggled with him, I could still only have three hours to move out of my own home. We had to bring witnesses and helpers alike with us to stand a chance of doing so without false accusations being levelled.

It was a horrible day. Your uncle fell through the ceiling from the loft within the first few minutes, which by itself triggered threats from the solicitors, despite it being my own home. Mummy tried to stop me taking all kinds of things, made a fuss about everything she could, and was generally hostile. You were holed up at nursery throughout, and missed it all, thank heavens, although that is pretty typical of the kind of 'best interests of the child' the system delivers - it encourages the parents to do battle, with Dad doing the losing, whilst the child gets farmed out elsewhere. You still spend more time in nursery than you do at home, awake, from what we understand.

With such a shortage of time to clear the house, none of the stuff we gathered was sorted. I dashed around the house like a man possessed, telling my helpers what to take and where to look. By the time the clock ran down, we were out of the door laden with more boxes and bags than we knew what to do with. Car parts and clothes alike were everywhere!

Many of the boxes came straight to London, where Step Mum decided it would be too upsetting for me to have to tackle them right away - in any case, I had court papers to deal with and was still on medication. They have sat now for 18 months, joined next door by a whole room which is pretty much as you left it, which I try not to have to go into.

Anyway, this week I felt I owed it to Step Mum to crack on and do something with them, so we could start using the dining room table again.

I found all sorts of things which had been in store even before I left my parents' home, little microcosms of parts of my life long passed. There were a lot of old work documents, which probably gave the bin man a hernia the other day. Payslips from before the CSA were helping themselves. Greetings cards. More car parts. You name it.

Late on, having almost cleared the whole of the area by the patio doors which had previously been piled high with my former lives, I picked up a hessian bag.

It had last been used on the weekend of your 2nd birthday. The balloons, now almost totally flat, were still tied to it. Inside were crayons and colourings from a trip to your favourite italian restaurant near the Army, a couple of nappies, and some toys.

In the bottom was this:

I had to put the bag down and stop.

The rest of your family still suffer your loss just as much as I do, and indeed as much as you, perhaps unknowingly now, given the passage of time and your age, do. Great Grandpa, whose rocking horse we never heard of again, has again been diagnosed with Cancer recently, and this time they may not be able to do much for him. He has given up hope of seeing you again in this life.

It's all been put away now. At some stage, realistically, we will have to tackle your room if you're not coming back. In any case, you are getting a bit old for some of the toys (and all of the clothes!) now, and you probably need the bed lengthening. It's one of those scenarios where, if you had died, I wouldn't have left everything out, as some parents do, but the hope that you will be back one day can be corrosive.

What is for sure, is that no matter whether all your stuff is kept out, we are keeping the home fires burning for you - painful as that may be.

Love from Daddy.

Lifting my head

2011-10-27T15:47:00.001+01:00

"But thou, O LORD, art a shield for me; my glory, and the lifter up of mine head."
(Ps. 3:3, KJV)

I am very grateful to Ray Steadman-Allen for his march, 'Hadleigh Camp' - it is one which I enjoy playing on the way back from the 'open air', not least because the 'home straight' from letter 'F' is simple enough to permit me to lift my head, straighten up and for a few bars luxuriate in the privilege of marching down one of the busiest shopping streets in Europe. Big Grandad used to march that very same route in the 60s, and often spoke fondly of the memory when I was a child.

This week I had the chance to visit Hadleigh for the first time, with an old friend of mine.

Some months ago, I posted a piece taken from William Booth's book 'In Darkest England', noting how one of the few parts of Booth's grand plan not to have been implemented in the century or so which followed was a proposal for the 'Poor man's tribune' - which would have tackled, amongst other things, the practical effects of family breakdown.

It was interesting, therefore, to visit one of the largest single components of Booth's plan, which still runs today - Hadleigh Farm.

Whether or not it's true, it feels like 'Hadleigh is the Army's, and everything in it' - and at the hall there is a beautiful painting, in the style of and by the same artist as that which graces the wall of the cafe at IHQ, showing different facets and eras of the Army's work in the area.

In the top left hand corner of the painting may be found a very competent homage to the famous lithograph from inside the front cover of 'In Darkest England'

Booth's original plan was for what he termed at the time a 'colony', but with broadly similar principles after so many years, it's now known as 'Hadleigh Training Centre', and it was to there that we de-camped for lunch. I thoroughly recommend it - and I think you have learned not to put your hand right into the sheeps' mouths to feed them now!

After lunch I was shown round the training centre itself, and what a marvellous place it is. People with various special needs are provided with a realistic working environment in which to learn skills to help make them more employable, and all manner of disciplines are open to them.

Of particular interest was the carpentry workshop, which was being run by a chap who looks a bit like Father Christmas! The working environment is a well equipped one with its own unique challenges, and it does your heart good to see such a place buzzing with things that are of huge value and yet priceless. Some of the trainees may struggle ever to hold down remunerated employment, but the enrichment and purpose they receive from being able to work in this unique environment is plain for all to see. One of their number kindly let me photograph him at work.

They produce various pieces for sale in the shop, and commissions right up to pergolas for peoples' gardens and lecterns for places of worship.

Before we left, I took in the view from the balcony of the cafe, looking out over land which all belongs to the Army and which, over the years, has been the place where skills and careers were given the chance to develop into much bigger things. As Booth envisioned, in former days, Hadleigh trained farmers who went off to work land far beyond the Thames estuary; now, in its' present day form, it gives skills, opportunities and a new lease of life to people who need extra help to compete.

Overall, I left with the impression that, rather like 'R.S.-A.'s march , the various clients at Hadleigh, as has been the case for the last century, find in the provision of the centre something which shields them and 'lifts their heads', too. Indeed, the very experience of meeting them did me good, and leaves me resolved to strive to bring into being something which shields and lifts the heads of the people whose needs I know the best - in the name of the Father.

Love from Daddy.

Remembering our own

2011-10-24T15:57:00.000+01:00

"The Salvation Army chorus has long been as much a part of our procedure as the march along the street. People of every type who attend our meetings expect to hear the invitation "Now we'll sing a chorus. Join in heartily!" It would be a great loss if the custom declined...

...The appropriate refrain, expressing a clearly stated idea, helps us in prayer and in praise, encourages our faith, increases our zeal, drives away doubt and adds to our spiritual vigour. The number of those who have surrendered to Christ while the believers around them have sung a chorus must run into many thousands.

Our meetings ought, therefore, to be graced often with chorus singing of one kind or another, and not only those which are for the moment in vogue...

Let us sing them, old and new, to the Glory of God!"
General Carpenter, November 1945

Yesterday afternoon's meeting at the Army was notable for the fact that we exclusively used the song book - which is now something of a rarity in any Army gathering! From the relatively fervent singing around me, I drew the conclusion that I was probably not alone in enjoying this.The band augmented this musical step back in time with marches from Marshall and Gullidge.

Big Grandad and I were talking the other day about how, whilst we are not predisposed to dislike modern music, there seems to be particularly little thought given these days to the importance to fair constituency of people of good stuff, which has stood the test of time, being given continued airing in worship. Hymns which have lasted hundreds of years in some cases have suddenly been singled out in this particular generation, almost silently, for summary annihilation. All over the church, (and I am not being specific to a denomination or a congregation here!) the art of congregational singing, ie singing together as a body, is being overtaken by being sung at.

Furthermore, the original SATB arrangements of tunes like 'Diademata' and 'Praise my soul' have fallen into disuse, and 'Tucker' has been missing, presumed dead, for rather a long time already. Yes, the more recent incarnations might be a good 'romp' and more fun for the band, but what about the members of the congregation left wondering where the alto, tenor and bass parts they knew have gone, whose singing the band is accompanying?

I like our friends' mantra "Something old, something new, something borrowed, something 'Yellow, Red and Blue'" - that's the thinking I try to apply when I am leading worship.

Anyway, it's important to emphasise the good, and I for one was delighted to have the opportunity to sing choruses which were part of my Army upbringing, which have already lasted longer than most of today's crop will. They are reasonably predictable for the singer (and therefore easy to learn), they are catchy, and it is no wonder that their like inspired the internationally-renowned musical genre of the Salvation Army march, as Black Dyke's latest recording again illustrates. (Daddy hasn't got a copy yet, but notes that his favourite Army march, the Erik Leidzén's rarely-played masterpiece 'Steadily Onward' is on it!)

I was disappointed to find that nobody has put it in Youtube, but of our Army readership, many will remember Roy Castle's TV series, 'Marching as to War', and the music-hall piece with Roy on the stage and Norman Bearcroft leading the instrumentalists. Tunes like 'Champagne Charlie', and 'The man on the flying trapeze' were used to illustrate how the best tunes were sneakily taken back from the devil. Our denomination, if no other, should realise that our congregational singing has drawn for so many years, successfully, on the hymnological and ecclesiological influence of the music hall and the football terraces. Congregational singing should retain the corporate element. It is, after all, something we do together!

The first chorus we sang yesterday has well and truly stuck in my head today. I found it on the Cyber-Hymnal, along with the original verses, which were hitherto unknown to me and which were in neither the 1953 nor 1986 songbooks. It's catchy, it's memorable, it conveys truth, it's personal. You can whistle it in the shower, you could sing it with a coach-load. It reminds me of Sunday night meetings of my childhood, often requested by the congregation:

God is still on the throne,
And He will remember His own;
Though trials may press us and burdens distress us,
He never will leave us alone;
God is still on the throne,
And He will remember His own;
His promise is true, He will not forget you,
God is still on the throne.

Right now, when I am facing even more bother than usual (hence the few posts in the last couple of weeks) that promise is an important one to me. Step Mum is away this week, as she will be for the next three, and not being left alone or forgotten by God is reassuring. It is as true as I hum it today as it was when a hundred of us sang it yesterday.

In the same way, I am still here, remembering my own. I still think of you every day, and I am doing more than you will ever know.

Love from Daddy

Pressure and Time

2011-10-18T14:19:00.000+01:00

"In 1966, Andy Dufresne escaped from Shawshank prison. All they found of him was a muddy set of prison clothes, a bar of soap, and an old rock hammer, damn near worn down to the nub. I used to think it would take six-hundred years to tunnel under the wall with it. Old Andy did it in less than twenty. Oh, Andy loved Geology, I guess it appealed to his meticulous nature. An ice age here, million years of mountain building there. Geology is the study of pressure and time. That's all it takes really, pressure, and time. That, and a big god-damned poster. "

I only went out yesterday, to get something from a shop for Step Mum - and I ended up receiving a lesson in campaigning.

Outside the office of the League of Arab Nations was a protest for democracy in Syria:

Organisers of protests, take note - you need someone good on the megaphone, drums are good - in fact, anything musical (we took the Army band to play at one not so long ago - something we don't do often enough in my book!), sizeable banners - oh, and expect the Police to take an interest. The other week outside the Iranian embassy we were spoken to by ridiculously ill-informed policemen from the consular unit - essentially British policemen protecting the Iranian embassy. I noted that there was a precedent for protestors - and policemen - being at rather greater risk than embassy staff...

The most important thing for a campaign to imbue itself with is patience. Like Tom Hanks' character in 'The Terminal' we must wait. The Syrian protestors have been going at it for a while now - and I have recently seen green shoots of results from my persistence.

It took the fictitious Andy Dufresne 20 years with a tiny hammer to get out of Shawshank prison. It took William Wilberforce a similar amount of time to get his bill for the abolition of slavery through parliament. Waiting and being persistent are draining activities, and the opposition always have the effortless option of sitting it out and hoping you break first.

Last night I was privileged to meet Mark Heslehurst, whose facebook campaign to reunite him with his little boy has 30,000 supporters on facebook, and delivered a 20,000 strong petition to David Cameron in August.

Mark is, as we speak, sitting outside Downing Street, hoping and waiting for the man himself to cross the road and speak to him, and to use his influence to help bring his son, Edward, back from Cambodia to his home in Middlesborough.

Different people respond in different ways to having their children taken. My response to losing you has been to write this blog, to ration my encounters with the courts, and to work to help other Dads like me and other children like you, whilst pursuing your own case as I am able to.

Mark has been on this path a little longer than me, but we share the bond that only fathers who have had their children taken fully understand. As we sat and talked last night, I marvelled at the resolve of a man who has decided that he is going to keep pushing himself until someone helps.

He is not angry. He is not asking for restitution or retribution - he just wants to be a Dad again, and at that, to fade into the obscurity of normality.

Until then, though, he will keep going - and he will wait. He has spent four days and nights in the 'pen' outside the Prime Minister's official residence. Yesterday someone nicked his chair and sleeping bag, and last night he got a soaking as he slept on the street.

Still he waits, patiently, calmly, with a resolve that nothing anyone can do to him now can be worse than losing his son, who keeps asking to come home to Middlesborough. In a couple of weeks, he is going to set off on foot back to his home town, before returning to London for another stint. He will keep going until something happens.

Nothing, he told me, but his love for his son will unlock this situation, and nothing but love for his son will see him through what he is enduring in the meantime. I understand that notion very well. For Mark, this is a very personal thing He is not campaigning for fathers' rights. He is not campaigning for changes in the law. He just wants his little boy back. I happen to share the view that if every Dad like Mark and I kept focussed on that, the rest of society would find it much harder to ignore us. The reality is, we are amongst the few who hit the radar.

To our substantial London readership, I invite you to go and visit Mark. He's to be found on the opposite side of Whitehall from the gates to Downing Street - 300 yards from Exit 5 of Westminster tube.. He doesn't want your money, he doesn't want anything from you really, but as he does all he can for his child, we can at least do what we can to keep reminding him that people care about him, too.

Love from Daddy

Savour the moment...

2011-10-15T13:56:00.003+01:00

...or, 'Travels with a Billingham and a stepladder' (with apologies to Malcolm Ranieri)

I was up early this morning - earlier than Step Mum in fact - and whilst I had pretty much given up on the idea (thinking I wouldn't see that particular hour of the morning), the likelihood of not getting back to sleep led me to grab the camera bag and see if I couldn't get a picture of 'Oliver', working for the first time in my lifetime out of Euston. I was hoping to have been on it, but medication put paid to that.

The train is bound for Swanage (I say 'is', because it's still on the run!), so the challenge was to find a spot between Euston and West London Junction - a stretch of railway which is notoriously difficult to get at, most of it being in deep, brick lined cuttings, or between the backs of large buildings.

There wasn't time to try out the shot from the entrance to Morrisons at Chalk Farm, so a quick run into Euston and a Northern line train to Mornington Crescent left me with a short walk to Mornington Terrace, where the line sits in a deep but wide cutting. Step Mum's kitchen steps were just tall enough to get me a view over the wall. Quite what the residents must have thought, I don't know, but by 0815 there was another chap there too, complete with car, wife, and not one but three stepladders of different sizes - nothing like being prepared, eh?

The wonderful sound of the chime whistle fitted to 70013 rang out on the dot at 0832, and moments later, the sun just gaining strength and rising above the buildings, Mornington Terrace was treated to a fantastic spectacle, which I see more often from the first coach than from the lineside.

What was for decades a regular sight, all day, every day, returned for a very rare moment, as 70013 got stuck in to Camden Bank. For saying I've not done much lately, and given the tricky location (balanced on the coping stones of the wall, where I'd never visited before, not knowing precisely which line the train would be routed on, and with the proliferation of overhead wires and masts) I was pretty pleased with the result.

Having snatched a 'going away' shot, I stood for a moment and just enjoyed listening to the train slog up the bank.

Grandad always used to say he would often go out with us to take a picture of a steam special and afterwards feel like he'd missed the experience, having viewed it only through the camera. I know the feeling - I used to watch motor races on the TV which I'd photographed the weekend before, as if I'd not been there!

I do tend now to try to make sure that when I photograph something, I don't lose out on the experience. Sometimes that means leaving the camcorder on the tripod and just getting on with it!

When I was younger, I had a special technique for railway pictures. Quite simply, I used to get overexcited and trip the shutter far too soon!

This one of 60009 at Llanfairfechan is a classic of that era - I think the photographer was about 9 years old. I had 'spot the train' pictures of 60009 at most places on the North Wales coast that summer.

Luckily, Grandad used to wait until the engine was filling the frame (that and he had a longer lens!) - and the rather better version of that same event is on the wall at their house. As with many things in life, when photographing a moving object you only get one go at it, and you have to hold your nerve and be patient until everything is in just the right place - not too soon, not too late. There's a lesson in that.

True enough though, by the time I'd taken my shot and put the camera down, I had time to watch it pass!

This time last year, the engine that woke the good folks of Mornington Terrace was in bits, at the engine shed - and in the driving seat was you.

I remember the little boy (me) excitedly taking his picture the moment the train came into sight, and I remember the enjoyment you used to derive from your days out with me, and no matter how pleased I am with my morning's work, I'd have sooner been stood there with you on my shoulders than the camera in my hand.

Love from Daddy.

Daddy (right) and your uncles watching 6201 'Princess Elizabeth' arrive at Llandudno, circa 1990. (See, my hair's always been like that. Just like yours...)

Unseated

2011-10-12T13:40:00.000+01:00

These last few days, I have been reflecting on this blog as we approach the its first anniversary. I felt when I started it that it might just be the best thing to do, for someone with a degree of eloquence to document a period of his life that many men endure, not all survive, and even fewer manage to talk about.

I was reading my second ever post, which thanks to a source which I can't quite pin down has become very popular and enjoys a steady stream of readers, and was amused at its link to something someone shared with me the other day, which London readers will find edifying and those elsewhere will find amusing! It might be seen to represent my situation right now...

That's all for today, except to say that the Doctor was very kind and the treatment is already working...

Love from Daddy

Hiatus

2011-10-11T17:56:00.001+01:00

It's really quite a long time since I've been to the Doctors. It's an activity which I don't enjoy, not least because of the circumstances which prevailed at the time of my first visits, but my GP has been simply superb over the last couple of years.

It's frustrating that I am here again for reasons which only exist because of other people's actions.

Suffice to say that I am having a particularly hard time right now, which is why I'm not full of things to write about. Everything is in suspense, whilst dishonest people decide how they want to deal with the mess they've made, and whilst I hope for a decent night's sleep at the fourth attempt...

Hope you are getting on ok, my little mate. I know you've not been so good yourself.

Love from Daddy

This is why

2011-10-07T09:53:00.002+01:00

On my computer, I have a little 'app' which sits on the desktop, showing random pictures from the archive.

Last night, whilst dealing with ongoing trouble at work, up popped an image from early last year, of a pallid, gaunt, dishevelled, homeless Daddy, having to use his parents' house as a contact centre.

I found this video in the same folder, and as I watched myself, pitying what I saw, and thought about all that had followed and my recovery to date, it steeled my resolve that one more father subjected to this is too many.

It reminded me why I burned the candle at both ends this week - and why I have so many letters now to write.

Love from Daddy

Time to say goodbye

2011-10-05T16:35:00.000+01:00

To Manchester, at least.

Not much in the PM's speech worthy of recounting now.

Lots of work to do on the train home, following up lots of leads of all kinds.

I hope all this effort makes you proud of your Dad once you know the truth. I'm doing all I can.

Love from Daddy

The 'Quiet Man' becomes the 'Awkward Man'

2011-10-05T10:48:00.001+01:00

Last night, with a flat iPhone (hence no pictures!), I attended the Centre for Social Justice's fringe featuring an interview with Iain Duncan Smith, in between more 'day-job' events.

The CSJ fringe was my first introduction to family breakdown policy, two years ago, before I realised the extent to which I would subsequently be involved. In recent weeks, they have launched a new policy paper, intent on addressing "Fatherlessness, dysfunction and parental separation/divorce" I quickly read through and annotated a copy, noting that there is lots of valuable 'carrot' and no 'stick' at all in their proposed policy approach. Whilst CMEC has powers to destroy the lives and livelihoods of parents who do not pay their maintenance, there is no way of even measuring the compliance of parents with residence, never mind penalising them for failure to act in good faith and in accordance with the law. A shame, since otherwise they make a lot of good proposals.

Anyway, as you will imagine, I not only listened intently to the Secretary of State, but wanted to ask a question in the presence of a packed room.

Asked about his further political aspirations and his return to front-line work with the coalition, he said "This is the only cabinet job I want".

He talked of the £20bn a year spent on family breakdown, and the perverse incentives provided by the benefits system. Challenged on success so far, he pointed out the size of the tanker he is trying to turn, but was blunt in his appraisal of the problem.

On government intervention in families' lives: "Government is intervening ineptly and dysfunctionally... the most dysfunctional family in the system is the government"

Regarding the riots, and the subsequent quietening-down about the causes as time passes: "My job is to be a the awkward man that keeps reminding everyone there's a problem"

At the death, I was invited to ask a question. Quoting Mr Gove's earlier words, I explained that, to my sadness, it is under this government, as the tanker is still slowing, that my little boy and other children like him had lost their Dad, and having been there at birth, men like me were gone now, despite gargantuan efforts.

IDS was, as previously, was not only gracious but kind in his response, even when the interviewer suggested that he couldn't judge who was a good father and who wasn't...

Time is tight today, but with reference to the dreadful recording off my phone, here are some quotes that should encourage us:

"A lot of fathers genuinely do play by the rules, and can't get access to their children. I fully accept that and understand that. There's a tendency in society to say 'Fathers bad, mothers good, full stop' - It's not like that; it's far more complex."

"Family law is too opague - we can't understand why judgements are made"

Speaking of interventions which the state, his preference being through the third sector, might make, he said: "Sometimes [the intervention] is stabilising the mother, because she herself is dysfunctional".

People, particularly 'Anonymous, saviour of the internet', love to claim I am all about retribution towards Mummy. A deeper inspection will tell you that I have made it clear over time that that's not what I'm about at all. (see also here).

Mummy, and other dysfunctional parents and families, are not condemned by Mr Duncan Smith. Rather, he recognises that we have to identify them to help them - and we have to remove the perverse incentives, often provided by the welfare system, which embed dysfunction, and embitter the lives of so many.

Nevertheless, where dysfunction is also manifest as disinterest, and where the 'carrot' is spurned, I do believe we need the 'stick' - and for fundamental equality before law and in the consideration of the state, of both parents. In an age of austerity, it is also noteworthy that you and your family would not be claiming any benefits if you lived with me. Should the state sponsor a child living with a parent who cannot afford them, when the other parent is capable of providing for them?

I was again grateful for the platform to remind the assembled throng of the plight of families like ours, but most of all, I was again grateful to one of the most senior politicians in the land for his personable, kindly concern, and for his keenness both to listen, and to articulate what others consider to be unspeakable truths.

Today I am back to an amount of desk work, though as here in Manchester, the clouds are gathering over that situation. In the former case, this is a bit of a blow, as I left my coat at home!

Hopefully I will have some exciting news for you later - I have a call to pay on my way home...

First up, let's see what Mr Cameron has to say, beyond telling us to pay off our credit cards - something of a sore point for me!

Catch you later.

Love from Daddy.

"The best role a man can play

2011-10-04T16:07:00.001+01:00

...is as a father".

Michael Gove is still speaking.

He says if you are there at a child's birth, you should be there lifelong.

I agree.

But as those around me applauded, they weren't applauding a right, to be upheld.

They were attacking a responsibility, cruelly assumed to be universally shirked where a Dad is missing.

How sad.

Love from Daddy

The Family Room

2011-10-04T10:02:00.001+01:00

After an unexpected but very welcome encounter at the conference church service last night, I was late arriving at the 'Family Room' reception.

Make no mistake, the Family Room is no stranger to discord. All sorts of nasty interests represented in the room - but I found more friends than I expected, and it was a very positive experience.

Have breakfasted on the green economy, and now it's time for Boris. I've been moved to fill a seat right under the great man's nose, in one of those pseudo-communist party conference parlour games where we must have bright young things at the front and no empty seats.

I'm on row four - not that you'll have BBC Parliament on at nursery!

Love from Daddy

Lobbying

2011-10-03T17:52:00.002+01:00

Son,

Not many of the thousands of children who lose their Dad every year benefit from quite such an active pursuit of justice on their behalf.

Lots of useful conversations have taken place already today, with all sorts of people, but after lots of trying, and typically, therefore, completely by surprise, I just got a few moments to talk to Iain Duncan Smith and his wife just now.

Ironically, when I was a youngster I managed to persuade my manager at the bank where I was a clerk, to let me attend a lunch to be addressed by IDS and the formidable Ruth Lea. My train was late and I missed him.

Years later, a few hundred yards from here, at my first conference, I was looking for a midday fringe to grab some lunch at. In the room where my next meeting was to be held, IDS was due to speak, launching family policies from his Centre for Social Justice. Mrs Duncan Smith was ill and her husband had to send his apologies. Little did I know that I was nevertheless learning about a subject that was about to engulf me.

And so to today.

Of all the senior parliamentarians I have met, including Cameron, who oozes 'soft skills', IDS exudes an authenticity.

We talked about you. We talked about all the thousands of other children. We talked about the injustices Dads like me face as we try to do our best for our families.

We touched on getting to the bottom of what really goes on in a family court, about the family justice review, and linking child maintenance to contact.

The role of marriage, domestic abuse against men, and the difficulties of coalition were also mentioned.

IDS has more faith in the FJR achieving more than me, and I expressed my disappointment at what he said on Father's Day.

Mr Duncan Smith expressed his sadness at our circumstances and his intention to make things better. The conversation was earnest, detailed, personal and we parted thanking one another for our time and giving mutual encouragement.

I'm back to the day job now, listening to the transport secretary and slaying a buffet, but praying silently for the efficacy of that fleeting conversation with a man who, I am convinced, cares.

Love from Daddy

Rights of the left

2011-10-03T10:00:00.001+01:00

Short posts today as my conference day unfolds.

UNICEF provided my second breakfast, after a poor job by the hotel.

Jesse Norman MP turned in a compelling case for 'human rights, not economic rights' for children, up against a gay socialist boy with a double barrelled surname and an affluent background from a 'Leveltworightsrespectingschool' (for he told us all of that, and more).

I noted that the young lad's views on gay marriage were immaterial to the debate on children, ignored his belief that EMA was an entitlement, not a privilege, and asked the panel about children's rights and family law.

I pointed out that at the ripe old age of three,a child like you can have all the rights you like but you are incapable of exercising them, and that therefore your rights need to include the protection of your family, and your father, to deliver the rights you should enjoy.

David Bull of UNICEF expressed the wish that the UN 'rights of the child' were written into UK law as part of the 'best interests' test. Not a bad plan, but you would still need judicial openness to test the application of such a measure.

It remains the case that even The Salvation Army (whose homelessness session I missed since it ran concurrently with the UNICEF one) has no policy on the rights of and responsibilities towards, children in its sphere of influence - children like you.

Now for some railways!

Love from Daddy

In the Army ranks are we

2011-10-02T21:24:00.001+01:00

It's been an unconventional, busy and surprising weekend.

Friday lunchtime came and went; a group of about 50 or so of us gathered outside the Iranian embassy, the occupants of which hunkered down behind closed doors whilst we addressed them and offered prayers and messages of support for Youssef Nadarkhani.

Nicky Gumbel, he of Holy Trinity, Brompton, and the Alpha course, was there, as were the leaders of Christian Solidarity Worldwide, whose National Director Rev Stuart Windsor spoke very eloquently and offered a warm welcome to those of us who were there by the power of twitter.

Along with Rev Windsor, other Christians, an atheist journalist and members of the Baha'i faith, I addressed the embassy's occupants. It was a shame that there weren't more of us, and I was aware that for lots of those gathered, speaking with a loudhailer on the streets of London isn't something they do often. I must admit I couldn't bear not to encourage more than the half-hearted singing of 'Amazing Grace' on the pavement when I came back from taking a picture of the letter being posted (nobody would answer the embassy door to us) but encouraged by a few amps from me, the noise gradually built. It was reminiscent of the singing of 'Abide with me' at the end of 'A bridge too far', or the band outside the hospital in 'Brassed off'. Incongruous and yet dignified.

We have 'a goodly heritage' said General Kitching in his autobiography of the same name, quoting the psalmist. Whatever my misgivings about The Salvation Army's organisational dealings with our family over the last couple of years or so, I cannot deny that I, and we as a family, owe much of our training to the denomination which took your Great-Grandfather from coalminer to Colonel.

I had cause to think of your great-grandparents that evening, at the training college where they learned their craft in the late '30s. Believe it or not, unlike Step Mum(!), I had never in my 29 years set foot in the assembly hall where hang the flags of each intake of cadets since the war - the older ones, including those of our forebears, presumably having now been removed for conservation, and since an unavoidably late finish at work caused me to arrive late, I wasn't able to take it all in as I might have expected.

After what happened the other week, I had scarcely given thought to who would be there, but suffice to say that I had unexpected conversations with unexpected people, with unexpected outcomes. Time will tell as to what comes next, but we go forward with open minds and good faith.

Yesterday saw an early start and a run out for the little red car (the only one with fuel in it!) to the railway and back. It was tough; it was Peppa Pig weekend, and there were children of your age everywhere.

Last night, we were again woken by our increasingly irritating upstairs neighbours' wayward burglar alarm. Although after rather a lot of effort we finally got an apology (which was initially refused!) for ruining our night's sleep, the damage was done and I was shattered this morning. Anyone would think I was a decade younger than I am, given the amount of sleep I seem to need these days!

I ended up meeting Step Mum for lunch in Princes St gardens, and set off for Euston, and Manchester beyond, accompanied by the distant strains of Albert Jakeway's classic March, 'Rosehill'.

"In the Army ranks are we, 'Neath the blood and fire we've taken our stand" goes the now seldom-sung chorus. Indeed. I still admit to asking fairly strong questions about our denominational home, but this is where I find myself - a product of the Army.

Here I am then, in a tired hotel in Manchester and preparing for three days of hard and eclectic work, for Caesar, for you and for God, and in all that, as on Friday outside the embassy, I will draw on my goodly heritage and experience.

Love from Daddy

Storming the forts of darkness

2011-09-30T12:25:00.001+01:00

Pastor Youssef Nadarkhani's plight is to be highlighted by a protest gathering outside the Iranian embassy today at 1300.

I will be there. I think when a man is prepared to die for Christ, a trip on the tube to take my lunch somewhere different is the least I can do since I work in London.

We could just pray for this man and his family, or we could actually do something as well. Wait, can I sense a littledeja vu?

Better crack out the sandwiches and get rolling soon.

Love from Daddy

Missing our X-Factor

2011-09-29T12:16:00.000+01:00

An example today of how the life we are making in your absence gets interrupted by memories which shouldn't be painful to share.

We often did cooking and baking with you - often it was Nigella's Banana bread (Grandad will tell you he was never a big fan of her Dad as Chancellor, but we like her recipes!), but we also made crumbles, and cakes and biscuits to take on days out.

For your last day at the Army in London before Christmas (and, rightly as it turned out, we feared your last of all) we made a big batch for you to share with your friends, along with pictures which people could take away as a reminder of you.

We had some dough left over (which was a shame in some ways, because everything we took got eaten!), so Step Mum put it in the fridge for us to bake before you went home on the Monday.

In between playing in the lounge and watching 'Duke the lost engine' we went into the kitchen and cracked out the dough to make some more 'bic-sits' as you called them...

Now, I should explain. You were very particular about these 'bic-sits' - well, the angels in particular. Angels, I am told, have buttons. So, having cut out the angel, you pulled off some bits of dough and stuck them on the angel's dress. We also had stars, as you can see, and some other wierd and wonderful shapes for which we didn't have cutters but which you fashioned by hand - all with an intended purpose!

We stuck them in the oven and were so engrossed in what we were doing in the lounge that they got a bit singed, but they seemed to pass the tast test. Some were set aside for Step-Mum to have later, some for us to have on the train, and some to take back to Mummy. This wasn't the first occasion when you had made things for her

And so, we got on the train and eventually arrived at Newton Abbot. In the top of your bag was a tubful of biscuits you and your Dad had made for you to take back to your Mum.

That was the last picture I ever took of you.

We said our prayers and I told you to be a good boy, that I would see you soon, and that God would take care of us all. Moments later when I took you into the booking hall, Mummy spoke to you as if I wasn't even there - and as I stood and watched them load you into the car, I knew that might be it.

I hid round the end of the station building, by the road exit, to watch you being driven away. She couldn't have known I was even there, but as the car passed, in the back was a little boy waving to his Daddy, and at the window in front, Mummy was already filming it all in the hope that her solicitor could use the footage against me.

The Mummy who those biscuits were for doesn't love you enough to have a Daddy any more. That clock is still ticking....

Step Mum cried last night when she watched this latest advert in the middle of X-Factor (we are a few episodes behind!) last night - partly because it reminded her of you and partly because whilst she wanted to share the memory, she didn't want to upset me by doing so.

Watch it, and now you know the story, you'll see why, and maybe appreciate how we felt. Not that any of this is your fault at all, but so that you know how much you mean to us, and the extent to which we feel your loss every day.

I still say, fair play to Sainsbury's for this campaign. They may be awkward for the likes of me to watch, but only because I wish I was still able to be that sort of Dad - and that no good reason exists for why I no longer am.

Since the memories are happy, the present is made all the more sad.

We have lost our 'X-factor'.

Love from Daddy

Another Father, Another Son, Another World

2011-09-28T18:24:00.000+01:00

Another father and son whose relationship is at risk.

This, though, is Pastor Yousef Nadarkhani, who the Iranians plan to hang for 'apostasy' - because he is a Christian and refuses to renounce his faith.

Please read Cranmer's piece and act - there is not time to say more right now. The Iranian Embassy may be contacted at info@iran-embassy.org.uk or by phoning 020 7225 3000. Step Mum and I have written to the ambassador.

Love from Daddy

Coach D to the power of 3

2011-09-27T13:37:00.002+01:00

Step Mum arrived home late last night with additions for the model railway.

We now have 3 standard class coaches (different numbers but all labelled 'D'!) and one first, for our fGW HST - probably the most emotive of the purchases we have made to populate the 'Land of make believe', since it was the train that brought you to us - and took you away again.

I got out the model of the sea wall which you and I made a start on last summer, to put it on...

The wall needs some stonework, and the beach some fresh sand, but I am reluctant to do it without you. My own model, when I have the chance to build it, will also feature a little boy on the beach, watching the trains go by.

You remain in the forefront of my thoughts, little mate. Lots is going on which I can't speak of just now, but which will become apparent soon enough.

Meantime, spare a thought for Step Mum, who again was up early this morning to catch a train from Paddington, from where you took your leave of us, seemingly for good, last year. She sent me a text to say she was in coach D, too...

We miss you. We always will.

Love from Daddy

Punishment

2011-09-26T19:14:00.001+01:00

It's been an interesting weekend, which, cut a long story short, ended up with an explosion on the A5 and a night spent in the car in Wales - but before I got round to writing, my words from Friday encouraging fathers to enjoy a weekend with their children - if they could - came back at me.

I only heard today, but at the end of last week, one of those who suddenly wasn't seeing his children was none other than Duncan Bannatyne, he of Dragon's Den fame (and proprietor of one of Step Mum's favourite hotels...)

Every so often, family law touches people in the public eye. The 'punishment' meted out by mothers scorned knows no respect for social status or wealth. The victims all lose the same things. It is abuse, pure and simple. In a position where the eyes of many are already upon you, I can but imagine what that's like.

I don't know Mr Bannatyne from Adam, and my life is in so many ways far removed from his, but I do know what it feels like to be denied your children, because I've had the same things done to me. This most recent occasion of denial of contact has gone on for almost ten months now.

The Daily Record suggests that Mr Bannatyne has known some dark times over the past few months, and Step Mum and I are only too aware of what that can do to a person. I see that, predictably, he has taken stick for mentioning the issue publicly, but I have every respect for a man, known for being successful, wealthy and self-assured, who doesn't shy away from saying something when he is taking a beating, and struggling. It is also well known that Mr Bannatyne is a great philanthropist, and that he took time to support someone else's child when he was missing his own, last week, is touching.

Many people must have watched Dragons' Den and thought to themselves "I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that!"

Compared to the 'dragons' probing around your business plan and declaring 'I'm out!', being told by someone who you know has no moral right on this earth to do so, that you cannot see your children - that's a whole other level, and nobody who has themselves been spared it can know what it's like. To make matters worse, you are subjugated by authorities who won't even let you talk about it in peace. That's the main reason I have to write anonymously.

Understandably, Mr Bannatyne has proved to be an inspiration to people - through his success in business, his television fame, and his charitable endeavours. I hope he can be an inspiration, too, to Dads whose lives may be very different, but whose suffering is just like his.

All the more so because of his very public 'punishment', I hope that he has in his circle the support he is going to need, because as we are learning, so many people face this mountain without it.

Love from Daddy

Bear necessities

2011-09-23T10:11:00.001+01:00

Given all the bombarding we get by adverts that feature (mostly single and rather dizzy, or known coke-head) Mums, I saw this on the telly the other night and immediately thought I should share it. Well done, Sainsburys, If I wasn't so pressed for time today I could edit a sequence of pictures and videos of our own, to match.

Only thing is, they'd be a year out of date.

Anyway, in the week that REM split up (and I was only talking about them the other day, wasn't I!), this one goes out to the Dads. Have a great weekend with your children, if you can.

Love from Daddy

Falling down

2011-09-22T12:07:00.001+01:00

I caught the local news in my hotel room in Birmingham the other morning. Apparently, Coventry Cathedral is still falling down.

Coventry Cathedral(s?) is a special place in my memory - my visit there as a year seven schoolboy was the first time I used a camera of anything more than the 'point, shoot and hope', fixed exposure, variety. Grandad gave me his Dad's camera, a crash course in using a light meter (and in guess-timating exposure, to check my work!), and off I went, with manual focus, manual exposure, a light meter and a roll of film. I still have the prints, somewhere, though not to hand to share here on my 'phone of course. Visiting Coventry Cathedral was my first attempt at what was to become an important life-skill, especially as it released my artistic self from the inhibiting disability of not bring able to draw to save my life.

The 'new' (not so new now) cathedral is Grade 1 listed now, and is in its own right a very provocative piece of architecture - but the reason it's there still stands next door, pretty much as the Luftwaffe left it in November 1940.

The Germans' 'Baedeker raids' of 1942, so named after the author of the tourist guidebook from which they chose picturesque and historic cities for destruction, sought specifically to target valuable architecture as retribution for the bombing of the historic German town of Luebeck, but in Coventry's case, a city which today would have been held in similar regard to the likes of York was selected for destruction for its strategic importance as an engineering centre. The gothic cathedral of St Michael was simply caught in the middle of it all.

Today, as the two cathedrals testify, Coventry has been rebuilt - using rather more concrete than before. At the same time, reminders of what happened remain.

For all the successful and poignant reconciliatory endeavour over the years, which I do not decry at all, Coventry will never get back all it lost. It is now less York and more Milton Keynes. As the walls of the cathedral continue to crumble, it cannot be argued that this is not in some way the continued effect of that night in 1940 - and buildings don't self-heal.

There are many parents like me who have, to all intents and purposes, rebuilt their lives, with or without children they lost. Some may look just fine. Some, the uninitiated might think, are just fine. Some are even flailed for this.

But in the same way that a cathedral, bombed in a war of two generations ago, continues to crack and crumble long after an end to the conflict and the process of rebuilding, the damage to the lives of everyone affected by family breakdown is never fully undone, even if ostensibly, everything worked out in the end.

I have suffered, with indefinite effects, in terms of my career, finance, and health - and you and I will never get these last ten crucial months back.

Coventry has a new and special cathedral, but stopping the ruins of the old one from falling further clearly matters; an appeal has been launched. Equally, though, upkeep of the new building would preclude ever fully rebuilding the old one - it's not sustainable.

All I can hope for now is that the overtly destructive phase might end, and soon, and be thankful for a wife, family and good friends who help me to build a new, valuable, sustainable life, as I tend the ruins of an old one which still hurts, and which I will not forget.

Love from Daddy

Hop, Skip, Grump

2011-09-20T10:51:00.001+01:00

I was preparing a sequence of pictures, to do a nice illustrated piece today about
my trip home from 'Birmi-meum' and the Lib Dem conference.

Sadly, that will not now be so. The ex WSMR 'Skip' hauled set has failed, and rather than forming the 1055 to Marylebone, is empties to Tyseley. No Skip ride and no comfy seats for me today, then - although even this Turbostar beats a crowded Pendolino.

The same thing happened when I first contrived to use WSMR for a business journey. What a shame.

Lack of on-train free wifi means the pictures will need to wait for another time.

As is customary, I have got something for you from the 'Model Railway.... Shop!' as you called it, but we will save that for later too, I think. It's a good'un!

Love from Daddy

Harvest Festival

2011-09-19T12:31:00.002+01:00

It was harvest festival yesterday.

The face of this event in the church calendar has changed subtly since I was a boy, although the music hasn't changed; whilst what we do now is pragmatically tailored to today's particular circumstances, "Bringing in the toothpaste" doesn't quite pass muster, does it!

On Saturday, Step Mum and I did a bit of 'harvesting' of our own.

Unfortunately, we have barely set foot in the garden this summer (and it's not been as sunny), and whilst we had many more grapes than last year, they taste very sharp indeed - and we are now wondering what, if anything, we can do with them!

Coincidental with harvest is the start of the party conference season, and I will be off to Birmingham later today to do some lobbying. My primary responsibility is of course to my employer, but particularly at the Conservative conference I am afforded the opportunity to follow up a few things to do with family justice and the pursuit of fatherhood. Last year, following Tim Loughton's gaffe on the first day, I found myself telling him about you, and asking about the charade that is the Family Justice Review, being filmed by Sky, BBC, and watched intently by Newsnight's Michael Crick.

Women's Aid will have a stand in the exhibition area this year once more, no doubt funded by the taxpayer, and no doubt once again seeking, with success, for male Tory MPs and peers to sign up to some sexist, misandristic campaign which the vote-grabbers are too blind to see is an affront to their very existence. When it comes to feminism, turkeys seem to vote for Christmas, thinking they will at least die popular. Gingerbread also fielded campaigners, and yet those representing fathers on the panel discussions were invariably beige and feeble at best.

I think back to all I saw and heard last year - much being pinned on the FJR but so many other platitudes. Baroness Ritchie invited me to contact her personally, but court process itself meant I had little time to do so - and indeed I was right in presuming that someone with a history in social services would be unlikely to see a father's perspective on the business from which she has derived her living.

Last year I spoke to, amongst others, Michael Gove, David Davies (about civil liberties and non mol orders), Tim Loughton, and all pleaded for time. All suggested that this new government was going to do something for me if only I could be patient.

Well, a year has passed, and with a few notable exceptions, not least the good-hearted, if slightly misdirected, IDS, this government has continued the destruction of families so ably accelerated by the previous Labour administration.

Their shoddy and dishonest review has been perpetuated, none of the promises the Tories and Lib Dems alike signed up to prior to the election have even received lip service. The suffering continues. Next week, with just cause now, after a lengthy period of discussions and interaction, F4J will be setting up camp outside Buckingham Palace. Things are stepping up again, and this year the government must defend its inaction - and several hostile acts to boot. This too on the back of riots in which Nick Clegg and others called on us to bring our children in - failing to spot the irony that public policy had helped to take them from us.

If you are going to wince or complain at bad language, don't watch this clip, but as Salvationists we are told we should be unshockable when it comes to listening to peoples' pain. Treat it as practice.

Yes, this is a film. Yes, this is set in the days of the miners strikes, and yes, the issue was different, but remember that this character, at this stage, had not only lost his job, and his hope - but he was also separated from his children, and was watching everything he knew, slipping away.

In that sense, the commentary is a powerful one - and one which the 'Tory Party' could have averted in the context of fathers, if only they had kept their promises and shown humanity to children, fathers and families.

All I can expect from the next three weeks is hot air and buffet food - but those who govern are on notice that if they won't act, then fathers will.

I hope the Tories with clout will restore my faith in them that family, faith, and the liberty of the individual within a fair society, figures in their view of the party's world vision - before the present golden opportunity finally slips away.

Love from Daddy.

Newsflash

2011-09-18T22:28:00.001+01:00

After several weeks out of normal routine, we were really pleased to receive a warm welcome back from lots of people at church today.

Someone we know has been down in your neck of the woods lately, and told us he had heard someone mention that at Newton Abbot there's a little boy who conducts the band.

Your Big Grandad will be so proud to hear that, son.

That's the first news, other than medical and nursery reports, we have heard of you in almost ten months.

I had to go and compose myself afterwards, but that little snippet of news gave me a lift today - and to our friend who was brave and kind enough to share it with me, I am especially grateful. It was gold dust.

Your friends here in London have all visibly grown up a lot in just a few weeks, prompting me to think about the time which has elapsed for you and I.

You'll be getting a big lad now!

Love from Daddy

Moving on

2011-09-16T10:27:00.001+01:00

Step Mum and I had a very pleasant, but slightly perplexing, night out associated with my work last night. It served to not only remind me that I really am good at what I do, but right when I needed it I received a real boost of affirmation from respected members of the railway family whom I am proud to know.

Lots of choices to be made at the moment, and conflicting timescales apply to some of them! What is for sure that changes are afoot - they should be good for you. We are considering all the options, with perhaps the exception of this one!

Busy day now. Take care, mate.

Love from Daddy

Autumn Days

2011-09-15T17:40:00.001+01:00

BINK! BANK! BER-DONK!

The sound of the conkers falling from the big horse chestnut tree near our house onto the car beneath were so loud, and frequent, as to be audible before I even turned onto the street. The season has well and truly turned.

I remember this time last year, collecting conkers from that same tree.

"Ooh!" you said. "These are nice!". That was your usual line if you were in a shop and had turned salesman in order to try and close a deal on something you thought you wanted.

We collected some that had fallen, and then I decided to show you where the came from, and picked up one still inside its prickly shell.

I went to place it in your hand, and you recoiled violently; scared.

Taking the offending item and opening it didn't help. Once the tears had subsided, it turned out that you thought it was an animal!

I thought of you this morning, and picked up a few more conkers to go with last year's. After all, the best hardening method is the passage of time. I thought too of when I was last collecting conkers, and what life was like when I was a little boy.

We used to sing a song about 'Autumn Days' - which was somewhat out of date even then; to date I have never seen "Jet planes meeting in the air to be refuelled", you would be unlikely to smell bacon as you fasten your laces (who puts their shoes on before cooking their breakfast?!), and where I would say I never heard my milkman sing at all, you would ask what a milkman was! (I have to be careful here, my anonymous correspondent was incandescent when I noted that the post never comes first thing any more. That's the suppressed rage talking, you know!).

Conkers were but one of many objects that ended up being banned, or heavily regulated, when I was at primary school.

We also had marbles. Grandma used to make bags to keep them in, and sell them on her craft stall at the school fair.

Football stickers - these were all the rage in the early to mid 90s. You used to have to swap them in order to get a full set - and playground trading was the order of the day. It was around about that time that I realised my ineptitude as a salesman - ironically, whilst these days I have a reputation for driving a hard bargain at work, I am still not so comfortable wheeling and dealing for myself. Your uncle ended up with a full book set of the '94 and '95 premier league stickers, the latter thanks to a memorable trip to the 'Swap shop' roadshow at Villa Park.

POGs were a flash in the pan. You threw a plastic disc at a pile of card ones, and kept the ones you turned over. Didn't last long as a fad.

Other contemporaries of mine remember more enterprising pastimes, such as rolling down a big hill, throwing coins at a wall, and, with due acknowledgement to my friend from Ulster, petrol bombs. I obviously had a sheltered upbringing.

As the conkers fall and the children return to school, next year to be joined by you, I am left to ponder what will become of your childhood, what it will consist of, and what one day you will remember...

Love from Daddy

Answers from the great beyond

2011-09-14T18:20:00.001+01:00

Just when you think things are calming down...

Completely from left-field yesterday came some new 'bother' at work, which stopped everything else in its tracks. I am still dealing with it today.

After I had got over the initial shock, and spoken to the people I needed to speak to, I was amazed how I just knuckled down and dealt with it, almost on auto-pilot. Grave as the matter is, compared to everything else that is going on it is not the worst thing happening at the moment - though for most people it probably would be. New trouble is just asked to join the queue!

At times in all this I wonder whether it is true that we are never given more to deal with than we can bear. On the other hand, on days like today I inexplicably take it in my stride and wonder how.

There is so much going on; makes me think of Michael Stipe:

"I'm pushing an elephant up the stairs
I'm tossing up punch lines that were never there
Over my shoulder a piano falls
Crashing to the ground

I'm breaking through
I'm bending spoons
I'm keeping flowers in full bloom
I'm looking for answers from the great beyond..."

I suppose I am developing some sort of tolerance to all this - though the physiological signs (especially my waistline) tell me that there is at least some cost!

It does appear that for now, things have to get worse before they get better - but it is my growing experience that every time life gets harder, my ability to deal with it catches up - and that eventually, these experiences will in turn help me to help others for whom everything seems too much to bear.

As we used to say on the railway, I'm 'getting there'...

Love from Daddy

Hate Male

2011-09-14T09:34:00.003+01:00

"Matthew is one of over three milliion children in the United Kingdom growing up with little or no access to their fathers.

Because of sexism, prejudice and bigotry, Matthew will grow up without the love and care of his father. He will create his family on the street in a gang. He will riot.

Organisations such as the Labour Party, the Fawcett Society and the NSPCC have become dominated by a militant form of feminism which will condemn Matthew to a lifetime of discrimination.

Like his father he will be segregated from his children. He will be reduced to the status of a cashpoint, not father. He will be condemned as a 'runaway' and a 'deadbeat'.

We oppose extremism in all its forms. We support equality of treatment for all our children when they become older, regardless of gender.

Support a message of love, not hate."

It's a great shame that we are no longer able to be part of this particular campaign - but nevertheless full marks to F4J for a thought-provoking piece of print media.

Sadly, the little boy in the picture may as well be you. Not much I can do, though, it would seem.

Lots of people care about this issue though, and for children like you with no father and an uncertain future.

Love from Daddy

Exhausted

2011-09-12T09:46:00.001+01:00

I warned a lot of people, a long time ago, that time would work in Mummy's favour. Irrespective of their behaviour, even if parental alienation is in full swing, mothers do well out of the courts when they create a 'status quo' which creates a winner and a loser amongst the parents. Once one parent is beaten, the courts have an easy time of it. It's largely an attritional battle which only one side finds hard work.

Yesterday was the first sign that I am getting that way. I couldn't do it in the end. Plenty of people who know us well had the opportunity to say or do something in our joint absence.

Step Mum came home to find me rather a mess, and as ever it was she that affirmed my suffering but reminded me that my life matters, too - and this is not living at the moment.

I warned that the first four weeks mattered; that the first three months must not be reached; that six was seriously hard to come back from; now we're at nine.

I felt I let you down yesterday, by letting an opportunity pass.

I'm sorry, son. I'm exhausted. It doesn't mean I love you any the less.

Just as it is Mummy and Big Grandad who are keeping us apart, yesterday lots of people had the opportunity, right in their back yard, to do or say a little something to help. I have hope that someone did.

Love from Daddy

All change, no change

2011-09-09T16:02:00.001+01:00

It's a week since I was in Devon, and I feel like I'm still recovering! It's been followed by a busy and complicated week, for lots of reasons.

Only one out of three meetings sought, happened. Ironically, it is in the situations where new people have appeared on the scene, where you would expect a blank canvas to give an ideal opportunity for progress, where we have met with the least engagement, the least enthusiasm and the least assistance.

Grandma and Big Grandad are reluctantly coming round for themselves to the point of thinking that if people ignore you, and if people fob you off with weasel words and do nothing, time after time after time, there is a point where the talking stops and you take the initiative on the action front.

Whatever they may or may not say to us, the facts are telling people as time goes on that Mummy really is all I said she is.

We are gradually piecing together Mummy's stories. Unsurprisingly, after what we discovered in January, the court orders seldom get wheeled out - their truth spoils a good yarn.

We rely on the new faces to see that, and many do, because most of the others have bought her story for so long, they don't know how to get out of all this and save face. Just retracing their steps and starting again would be very welcome.

I hope you are feeling better, son. I probably won't know the details of your hospital appointment until after the event, but I still care just as much as when I was there to talk to the doctors myself.

Love from Daddy

On our 'Wey'

2011-09-06T08:33:00.000+01:00

For only the second time this year I'm out with one of our engines today.

I've just finished my breakfast, having previously been gawped at by the passengers at Kensington Olympia as I tried to grab a little bit more sleep. We're at Victoria now, ready to go in a few minutes.

Just for once, the notice in the support coach toilet is a little more relevant, although sadly, the Weymouth Quay line is now pretty much a dead loss.

Wish you were here.

Love from Daddy

Go west

2011-09-05T17:18:00.001+01:00

On my way west tonight. Not far, but far enough to be reminded of you. Touching out my oyster card on your favourite gate without you there, wanting to do it for me, is always strange.

Love from Daddy

Good for the Goose...

2011-09-05T10:07:00.001+01:00

It appears from the press that documents found at the abandoned British embassy in Tripoli have precipitated the release of evidence that the Lockerbie Bomber's release was preceded by threats of vengeance if he died in British custody.

How jolly terrible. An unaccountable power threatened nastiness if it didn't get its way, and when the threat was stronger than the benefits of holding firm, the 'good guy' gave in, to save worse.

I do that every day.

Every day I have to pick my battles. Every day I am forced to let things go, to let a certain amount of bad things happen to you, to let go of principle, to keep quiet about things, because the threats to me, mostly perpetrated by the state, though commissioned by Mummy and paid for by us all, are too great.

Britain had to balance the threat of another Libyan-sponsored terrorist atrocity on our soil against the benefit of keeping Al-Megrahi in prison.

I have to weigh up doing all I can for you with keeping my health, my job, and coming home to my wife every day. There is no reasoning with the family courts.

The UK government understands the use of threats only too well. For as long as the state perpetrates them, it can't exactly complain when it is occasionally subjected to them.

Love from Daddy (back at work!)

Shouting in my sleep

2011-09-04T23:06:00.001+01:00

I decided I would wait a little, and try to clear my head somewhat, after Friday, before expressing my thoughts; it'd been a very difficult day indeed.

Unfortunately, they didn't want to stay inside.

Step-Mum woke this morning to tell me that I'd had a terrible night's sleep, and had been shouting and jumping around, half-conscious. I had to admit I had a hazy recollection of such. Apparently it involved Mummy, and I was terrified.

It's ironic that whilst Mummy used to tell us you were having 'night terrors', you never had anything of the sort in our house - whilst I did. In some ways your youth does still protect you from the worst consequences and fears of your situation - for now at least.

As we have come to learn, but dared not hope for on this occasion, Friday brought encouragement from places we did not expect it - but (sadly predictably), we met with disdain from others who should have known better, and who showed total disrespect for you, never mind us.

We will give the opportunity for restitution of this situation before we chronicle it. Hopefully we will need say no more about it.

All sorts of people think they are doing enough, or all they can do. Whether or not that is true, I am the one left to shout in my sleep. For now, I'm glad you can't hear me...

Love from Daddy

The train now arriving

2011-09-02T23:02:00.001+01:00

I don't want to talk about today any more tonight, but wanted to share this.

Look what has just arrived in the shops!

Passing the nursery today, and leaving Devon having not so much as seen you from a distance, was more than I can face putting myself through again, but these guys bring you my love from London every hour of every day...

Love from Daddy

No words

2011-09-02T16:41:00.001+01:00

I have just passed the nursery. You are most likely there right now.

I have never experienced grief like it.

Daddy

Nearer and further

2011-09-02T12:22:00.001+01:00

Well, here we are. Sunny South Devon.

I could do with another holiday, but today is anything but. Today is starting to feel like a day at court.

Ever since I drove over the bridge over the marshes, and clapped eyes on the nursery where you most likely are right now.

I'm angry, and I feel sick. It is only when I am actually here that I have to remember and consider the restrictions on my liberty and the totally illogical machine I am subject to. Part of me wants to go and ring the nursery's doorbell, pull the lion's tail, and see what happens. Naturally, Step Mum has no intention of letting me hit the self-destruct button by trying to visit you today. I have to accept that having driven here for the first time since the ill-fated trip in January, I am, as with every day over the last nine months (as it will be on Monday) further than ever from you.

The nursery's new owners, tracked down using OFSTED and Companies House, rather than because I was told, were invited to take the opportunity to meet me today. Sadly, we have had no reply to date.

Anyway, we have meetings to attend when/if we've eaten lunch. As always, we are here, and we do it, for you - no matter how near or far you seem. Nobody in their right mind would put themselves through this if they could avoid it.

Love from Daddy

In the can

2011-09-02T01:33:00.001+01:00

Preparing for what is to be an important, and testing, day tomorrow, I set playing on the telly all the little video clips off my compact camera from last year.

Contrary to what you might think, whilst I look through pictures of you every day, the video is often too difficult to watch. I see and hear you of course, but also myself, often being led to remember the extent to which I was so often struggling, and the pain is immense, just as it was at the time, but even more real. Separation is neither a threat or an abstract any more.

I've just seen the last little clip, on the railway station platform, as I was saying my goodbyes. It's a piece of film which I will never share if I can help it, save for letting you see it.

I don't have the words now for all that I want to say, but suffice to say that everything I told you as I said goodbye that night in December remains true - I hope that one day, you will discover so for yourself.

Step Mum is already asleep. I should be, too. Many more miles to cover.

Love from Daddy

Good Morning, Crewe!

2011-08-31T05:29:00.001+01:00

"It's oh-six-hundred hours. What's the 'Oh' stand for? 'Oh my God, it's early!'"

It's earlier even than that, actually. On top of a day's work, it is my (once common, now rare) privilege to be getting up in a moment to prepare to take a 'Black Five' off Crewe shed.

Out of my coach window I can see landmarks with which I associate my life before I lost you, and the bunk beds in the coach remind me of taking you on the 'Sleeper train'.

Our route today is one you travelled with me several times in my early days as a 'McDonalds Dad'

Bitter-sweet reminders everywhere I turn.

Love from Daddy