MARCH

MARCH 1^ST 1999

There’s a load of hullabaloo about the teletubbies!  They’re saying that Tinky Winky is gay and that the sexual connotations of the tubbies are a bad influence on kids and that parents should be on their guard.  Good God!  Teletubbies are harmless.  Talk about a storm in a teacup!  What about the bad influences that kids are exposed to that are very damaging such as corruption, injustice, violence….?  Even at a very early age kids are aware of more than they are given credit for.  They know about injustice, hatred, lies and double standards.  I remember when I was very young I constantly questioned my parents about things and tried to make sense of everything.  I knew when I was right and they were wrong and that at times they were not being sensible or making sense, or that sometimes my idea or method was better than theirs.  But I didn’t have a voice because they were bigger and older than me.  I knew that they controlled me and that I didn’t get a say because I was ‘just a kid’.  Dad wanted me to be a good obedient little girl.  I thought that I was treated unfairly at times.  Of course, I too am guilty of the same crime with Andrew and Shell at times and will say, “Because I say so.”

Vera Nolan visited to make sure that I have the necessary criteria for raising my babies.  She wanted to know how many bedrooms I have, what provisions I have in the way of equipment necessary for small children and toys available to them etc etc etc.  Well in my view it really wouldn’t matter if you lived in a virtual shoe box and had very little in the way of stimuli, as long as you possessed that all important quality – love for your children, and that you treated them with respect.  Then they will thrive, no matter what.  Andrew and Shell were on impressive behaviour and brought Vera and myself cups of tea and chocolate biscuits.  [They’ll do anything if there’s a quid in it.]

MARCH 2^ND 1999

I received a NSPCC begging letter.  They are trying to highlight the plight of the child and how child abuse in British homes is rising.  Many people do indeed donate and it certainly is for a good cause but in my opinion the money raised by the caring public does very little to help children who are in need.  While we have un undemocratic deceitful government, a corrupt incompetent police force, a judicial system that supports the criminal, social workers who shy away from trouble and find it easier to persecute the innocent, we haven’t got a hope in hell of helping abused children; in other words, whilst the underworld and evil rule, children and the helpless will continue to suffer.  When are the authorities going to stop lying, bullsh…. ing, protecting criminals and start doing their jobs?  That is, when are they going to enforce law and order fairly for everyone?  When are they going to stop the influx of drugs and punish those guilty instead of perverting the course of justice of which they deserve jail?  When are they going to stamp out racism?  When are they going to ban the gun? When are they going to stop wasting money and spending it on themselves?  When are they going to tighten loopholes that make a mockery of our law?  When are they going to practice what they preach and start setting the right example?  When are they going to stop hoarding the money that they’ve stolen off hard working honest folk?  When are they going to stop destroying our planet?  When are they going to stamp out the mafia and other wealthy warlords?  When are they going to bring the big fish to justice?  When are they going to stop punishing the innocent?  When are they going to be held accountable?  When are they going to…. ?  When?  Never!  Worldwide anarchy WILL arise first – in the not too distant future; and then there may be hope….

My thoughts keep drifting back to that awful day at clinic where overbearing Dr Macareth abused her position.  Her callous words keep haunting me: “We need to enquire at nursery and crèche to find out who did this to her; I need to send for an ambulance immediately.”  There I was tying my damnedest to put the past behind me and move forward and some judgemental doctor puts a spanner in the works.  Her accusations threaten my relations with my child carers.  Terrific!  The NHS is in crisis.  Well that’s not surprising when you have the likes of Dr Macareth hogging it unnecessarily.  Health visitor Mr Browne is a bit of a nitpicker too.   She told me Mel has a squint.  Does she hell.  She told me Jordan is shy.  Rubbish, he’s just choosy about who he talks to.  She questioned a mark on Jordan’s face.  Bloomin’ hell!  He tripped up when he was running cos he was excited.  ALL kids fall over, trip up, bump themselves, refuse to speak to strangers…. If they are just allowed to develop of their own free will, in their time, they usually turn out happy and well adjusted.  Professional intervention can be so damaging.  To me, these health visitors are largely just a bunch of busy bodies with nothing better to do.

MARCH 3^RD 1999

I had a nightmare of a morning.  I was hauled into the DSS and interrogated about my living arrangements during my three-year relationship with insect-features.  I only received the letter yesterday requesting my presence yet the lying bureaucrat insisted it was sent out last week.  I was led to believe that I’d have a chance to see the allegations of fraud before my interview; but no, I was read my rights as the tape rolled and was asked it I wanted a solicitor present.  Sleazebag Williams had collected various bits of information to try and get me into trouble.  I again explained the reasons for my temporary stays at his house and his periods of time with me.  I also told the B/A official Mr Drew that I had enquired with the B/A beforehand just to make sure that we weren’t doing anything illegal and that I’d been reassured that we were not. I was questioned about my use of Gareth’s doctors.  I explained that Gareth and I had intended to use the Dolgellau village hospital for Jordan’s birth but that I ended up in Wrexham.  I remarked that Gareth forgot to mention that he and his son used my doctor, dentist and two local hospitals.  I was asked about phone calls from his house to finance advisors.  Again I admitted it but said that I didn’t think it was wrong because I was just helping him get the best deal during his house sale.  I was asked why Andrew used Gareth’s address for his fishing permit, so I explained that it was because the pool is in Llysfaen, where Gareth lives. 

It’s funny that I wasn’t questioned about the loan that I took out to help that woodlice buy his bedroom furniture since he wasn’t creditworthy.  Nor was I questioned about the considerable amount of time my dad, my uncle and I put in helping him reconstruct his stairway and hall and decorate and the fact that he didn’t have to part with a penny for our labours or materials! I then tried to tell interrogator Drew that Gareth is a vicious vindictive liar whose only aim is to make my life hell.  But I was rebuked and informed that there were ‘witnesses’ prepared to say that I was living with my ex and that I was seen there on a daily basis.  A bit later on, he reminded me about these ‘witnesses’.  Later on again the B/A man asked me if all these ‘witnesses’ are “malicious and evil.”  And yet again he let me know that he had ‘witnesses’ who were prepared to come forward to say that I was living with GW and that these ‘witnesses’ would be giving statements.  In the end, I asked, “What witnesses?”  The lying official Drew wouldn’t [couldn’t] say.  The only thing that popped into my mind regarding GW’s neighbours was what my lying ex had told the welfare officer - something about Andrew and Shelly letting horses out of his neighbours’ stables and that the police had been called.  Such lies – there was no evidence and no enquiry.  And in any case, according to my enquiries, people don’t trust and can’t stand HIM.  After about an hour’s grilling, I was eventually turfed out.  As I left, I remarked that my only crime was falling for a sweet-talking conman. 

The malicious authorities are prosecuting the Bramleys for abduction.  Well, social services should be prosecuted for harassment of these two wonderful loving parents, since all the Bramleys wanted to do was care for and love their little girls.  But they were appallingly forced to take drastic action and run away with them when gangster social workers came to snatch them.  Someone should explain to social services that they’re supposed to protect children not abuse them and that they’re supposed to remove children from WICKED parents and place children with caring competent loving ones.  But they always get it the wrong way around [and they are getting paid for this scandal to boot!!!]  Social service chiefs should go to prison for this disgrace and social workers should be sacked.  What brave people the Bramleys are and such an inspiration to us all.  They know that the love of and care for their little girls justified their actions and they proved that the law is wrong.  They did the right thing and listened to God’s law.  More people should do what these heroic people did – the public support for them was phenomenal.  Authorities should realise that it is the PUBLIC who are judge and jury and that the PUBLIC are watching THEM and putting THEM on trial.

MARCH 5^TH 1999

The events of today rocked me to the core. The kids had gone off on their bikes for their weekly game of chess with their granddad.  To my complete surprise they arrived home in less than half an hour, breathless and distressed.   Andrew blurted out that a policeman had got very cross with them, had sent them home and had said he was on his way to see me.  He said they’d stopped to play by the pier for a few minutes before going to granddad’s but that they weren’t near the sea.  The cop turned up then, all guns blazing.  Looking stony faced, he sat Andrew and Shell down and began shouting at them and wagging his finger.  He told them that they were very lucky that police had spotted them on CCTV cycling under the pier and that they should be grateful that he had raced around to send them home.  He yelled at them, saying they were in grave danger from the rough sea and that they could’ve been dragged out and drowned.  He asked them if they were trying to commit suicide.  Stunned into silence they shook their heads.  He then pulled out a pad from his pocket and solemnly threatened that he would have to “place them on this at risk register for their own good if it happened again.”  “Hang on.  Hold your horses for a second,” I butted in, “I smell a rat here.  Number one, CCTV is supposed to be for catching criminals, not spying on a couple of kids playing innocently on the prom.  Number two, considering they were supposed to be risking their lives such that it warrants you chasing after them like a headless chicken and then coming here all high and mighty, how come they are not wet?  Even their feet are bone dry!  And number three, it is not your job to threaten me with ‘at risk’ registers – that is social services department.”  He quietened down a bit then and nodded sheepishly in agreement that Andrew and shell were completely dry.  PC 1651 insisted that the sea was rough, such that they were considering closing the prom as the tide was coming in.  I replied, “I daresay, but all this smacks of a set-up.  Something is going on here and I wouldn’t be surprised if my troublemaker ex is behind it because he has some connections with the police.  I bet this is the secret seedy underworld at large and it is operating at a much higher level than you.  I’ll get to the bottom of it eventually.  This just isn’t kosher.”  I asked to see the evidence.  He informed me that I’d have to contact the council. 

When he’d gone the kids told me their version.  PC 1651 arrived in a police van with sirens blazing to tell Andrew and Shell to “Get home you stupid brats – you idiots; I’m all wet now, you twits.  Why aren’t you in school?  That’s suspicious; are you trying to kill yourselves?”  The kids said that other kids were there soaking wet; adults too, but no one else was bothered by the officer.  They told me that earlier, a bloke in a red mondeo had spoken to them, but not nastily, and that an ugly old man [the same bloke that had threatened them once before] who reeked of alcohol, had told them off and had then gone to the phone box.

In the evening I got to work phoning around old neighbours and associates of Gareth’s to see if I could find out who or what he really is.  The general consensus is that he’s dubious, a bone-idle swindler and a liar.  No one around there likes him.  People were always after him for money.  Bailiffs were always sniffing around his place.  They said that he has mainly enemies, who fear him.  They said people kept out of his way and that he bullied his two children.  He battered his son and abused his ex wife [beating her up on occasions.]  Folk around there couldn’t understand what he had over the Dolgellau police but that something was going on cos he was always committing motoring offences – speeding and even drink-driving.  He was always on the fiddle and no one else got away with the things he did.   They said the Dolgellau police are incompetent and corrupt.  They said that the police didn’t like him; they knew of his crimes and yet they seemed to fear him.  They said that he treated his dogs cruelly and that they always ran off to cause mayhem.  They knew that his dog had killed sheep and hens, yet no one could touch him.  I told the neighbours that I’d seen a good character reference from the police, which secured his custody application and yet the police knew of his crimes.  I told them that I’ve seen police turning a ‘blind eye’ to his drinking and driving, speeding, dangerous driving, illegal parking, attacking his son and his son’s friend.  I once witnessed Gareth’s son and his pal phoning the police to report the attack.  GW’s daughter told me that GW punched himself on the chin and then told the police that his son’s pal had done it. The police took no action.  I also told them that his son had done criminal damage to a rail carriage, that there were witnesses but that after Gareth had spoken to a senior policeman, charges were dropped.  His son was also let off other minor offences including vandalism to his school. 

I told the Dolgellau people that I once saw Gareth attacking three complete strangers in Colwyn Bay.  GW had boasted that the police would do nothing; and they didn’t, when the men reported it. GW had boasted to me beforehand that he could do whatever he wanted and that police would never charge him.  I told Gareth’s old neighbours that I feel I have the right to demand a full public enquiry into police and social services dealings before my court case goes any further.  It is widely believed by the locals that he should’ve been prosecuted for child abuse.  Some said that his kids were always left on their own even when they were very small, that they were not happy and were quite disturbed.  I learned that his kids did in fact love their mum but they had no choice in where they were going to live and with whom.  Their mother had fought hard for custody but all her efforts failed and she was even denied access.  No one could understand why.  

Unfortunately no one was prepared to testify for me in court should they be required and no one would put anything in writing to support me either.  Everyone feared he’d turn up on their doorstep with a gun because GW had already pulled a gun on his ex-wife.  This, I learned had been witnessed by a few people who had reported their concerns to the school head and to social services.  The neighbours told me that they and the school staff knew there was obvious neglect of Gareth’s children.  Both had been prevented from seeing their mum by GW and he had turned them against their mum.  He also used to discard her letters to them and he would not allow her to phone them.  I witnessed that myself.  Both took numerous days off school.  They said that his son is terrified of GW [I witnessed his terror too] and that he and his sister weren’t happy. 

I got the feeling that they knew quite a bit more but weren’t prepared to tell.  There was a shroud of secrecy.  My imagination went into overdrive.  What if he has murdered?  What if he is a professional hit man?  Where did he get all the money to support his one hundred and fifty cans of lager per week habit?  Is he an illegal dealer?  Where did he really go when he used to slip off at various times throughout the day and night?  Lots of people have different sides to themselves; how can you really know if your partner is secretly living a sordid double life?  They’re always so good at secrets and lies and are always so conceivable to outsiders.  Such people rule by terror and can easily silence witnesses.  How did he manage to stop his kids seeing their mum?  Why did the authorities side with him against her?  Gareth used to boast that his ex called police on him loads of times but they just laughed at her and called her the liar.  He even scoffed that the school continually sent social workers sniffing around but that he’d just bark at them and show them the door.  If social services were involved so much and the school, police and everyone else knew that Gareth was such a controlling, violent b…. towards his children, why on Earth weren’t those kids taken off him? Why isn’t he in the nick for assault [towards his wife and son] and child abuse?  Was his ex-wife, as their mother and who also has parental responsibility, even informed of his ill treatment of her kids? Does that slime bucket bribe the police/social services?  Did he pay the ruddy ‘judge’ to award him custody?  What the f ….s going on?

MARCH 6^TH 1999

I phoned around a few people in the Bay who I know are associates of Gareth’s.  I discovered that he has managed to obtain some good character references but that certain people signed under duress, regret doing so and would like to withdraw their statements, but fear a backlash. It appears social workers are involved in the school that his daughter now attends, that there is an unnatural relationship between father and daughter and that he is very possessive of her [as he always was.]  I even had my suspicions confirmed that it is Gareth’s mother who is the wicked schemer.  It is she who calls the shots and whom his whole family [especially Gareth] fear.  I remember GW’s cousin telling me once that his mother is evil.  At the time I’d asked, “Why bother with her then?”  “I just pretend,” came the reply.  I answered, “No, you fear.  You either like someone and want to keep company with that person or you don’t – there are no half measures.  To pretend is to show weakness.”

I managed to track the ex wife down.  I remembered Gareth and his mother talking about her previous jobs and they’d named the various towns where she’d worked, so I made some enquires.  We chatted very briefly, exchanged addresses and she promised to write.  She was shocked that I’d found her works number.  It would seem that our lives with Gareth have been a carbon copy of each other.  I would tell her a few things, she’d say, “Yes, I know all about that – I’ve been there, done that, got the t-shirt.”  She remarked that it is he who is the schizophrenic.  I told her that I wished she’d told me what I was getting involved with.  She wished she had too.  She added that I probably wouldn’t’ve listened to her tho.  I told her that I really feel for her because she lost her children to that evil b…. and that I knew that he’d blocked her efforts for contact.  She seemed to go deep in thought and then said, “I thought if he got what he wanted he’d leave me alone; but it didn’t work out that way and I’m still terrified of him.”  I enquired if she meant that he still hassles her.  She said that he does.  I told her I never even knew.  She also said that her son is still petrified of him and that he and her daughter are very much under his control.  I briefed her on the torment we’d suffered – all the harassment, stalking, NSPCC, social workers, inadequate police et cetera and I asked if she suspected a conspiracy to swing the custody battle of her children his way.  I asked if she suspected that Gareth has underworld connections and that he is protected by police corruption.  She told me that she was puzzled as to why he got awarded custody and that she was allowed only indirect contact which turned into no contact.  She said that the school could not understand what he had over the authorities either.  She said she’d fought tooth and nail for her kids but was blocked at every post.  I begged her to help me fight him for both our sakes because I believe history is repeating itself and because, “We have to stop the b…. std controlling us.”  I pleaded with her to testify in court against him but she said she couldn’t because she was still having a battle to see her son and she didn’t want to jeopardise that.  She told me she daren’t support me publicly because Gareth would turn it all against her and she’d lose her son altogether.  I told her I understood her fears but asked if she’d give is some thought anyway and to drop me a line.

I discovered that Andrew and Shell feature on the front page of the Daily Post.  They are pictured on the prom with massive waves lashing behind them.  The blurb is titled: “School’s Out.”  I regarded the article a bit of a coincidence considering yesterday’s debacle and the PC’s over-reaction.  I began to wonder if Gareth intended showing the clipping to the court welfare officer, and if so, that he’d probably casually mention the fact that he was aware that police had been called out to my kids and that Andy and Shell were sent home because they were at risk from the stormy sea.  This was ideal ‘proof’ to back up his claim that I am an unfit mother.

Three times during the day, the kids and I trundled off to the pier to scan the CCTV.  I studied it meticulously for around half hour each time and it did not move.

Shell and I had quite a philosophical discussion today about the power of the brain.  Apparently we can only understand and use one percent of it.  Is that all?  Many people probably use considerably less of their brain than that!  Quite a few exist in zombified mode or in a negative, unproductive state. But what about the other ninety nine percent?  My God what if we could learn how to use the bulk of the brain.  What on earth [or in space even] would we be capable of?  We reckoned that if we could up our brain usage capacity we’d be able to achieve superhuman capabilities.  Shell and I made our predictions. 

At two percent usage I said that we’d see our intelligence levels rise, we could probably look at things and make them move slightly.  At five percent capability, Shell reckoned we could interfere with electrical appliances and: change TV channels just by thinking the required channel, turn lights on and off at will just by looking at them, turn on the kettle without even having to move from our armchairs…. She thinks we could probably fix things just by looking at the broken item and concentrating on it righting itself [a bit like Uri Geller!]  At seven percent I predicted we could read other people’s thoughts [perish the thought.]  At ten percent I suggested we could move fairly large objects, quite simply by just concentrating on them; I fancy we could even move a car if we wanted to - just by powerful thought.  I drew the line at a house moving at this stage tho – you’d probably need to be at level thirty to forty percent brain usage for that kind of power!  Imaging the catastrophe we could create by playing chess with other people’s cars!  I also had a feeling we would probably be able to fly short distances.  By around fifty percent brain function, Shell and I envisaged we would be of super human intelligence and beyond that of genius – we’d be able to scan and fully comprehend the most intricate of academic manuals in seconds.  We believe at this stage we’d have the capacity to protect ourselves from attack by having an invisible, un penetrative shield around us, such that knives, bullets, fists and the like could never make contact; even harmful bacterium, poisons, nuclear materials et cetera could not enter our protective aura – we would not be susceptible to disease.  At half a brain usage we’d probably be able to create things – out of thin air – by the power of the mind.  At sixty percent brain efficiency we would not need the media – we would just know and understand everything.  At seventy percent brainpower we wouldn’t need to eat or defecate. At ninety percent we could make people disappear [what a wonderful thought], we wouldn’t age, time would not exist, we could fly in space and beyond the furthest galaxies – we’d be entering new dimensions and transgressing frontiers.  All our knowledge of and laws of science would be challenged.  At one hundred percent?  Wow!  We could be and do anything – change into a dinosaur, worm, ghost or atom or an imagined species or a particle of dust even.  We’d be indestructible, supreme, in heavenly paradise….

It isn’t such a crazy idea.  Shell and I were almost in a frenzy by now.  The implications are unquantifiable.  Just imagine if only a few people possessed this magical power and that the rate of progression and awareness varied, the world would soon see a shift of power.  My guess is that those who have the potential to tap into and expand their own brain aptitude are the spiritual folk, those possessing true faith in God and belief of our existence beyond the grave and who live their lives according to God’s rules.  If we could learn to use [and not abuse] more of our brains, just think how awesome and efficient we would be.  It would signify the end of materialistic money worshipping politicos and their cronies, the end of pain and suffering, the end of the chains that binds us into futile and despairing existence, the end of evil rule.  But it would not be the end for those powerful millionaires living in luxury at our expense on Earth now.  They would be locked in their own egocentric man-made hell and that is where they’ll be for eternity when they are exterminated from this planet.  Those ruled by money would find it impossible to begin the road of discovery and enlightenment.  I would visualise that the only possible way to begin this journey of awakening is through the cleansing powers of meditation.

MARCH 8^TH 1999

I got the most amazing claptrap I’ve ever heard in my life from the council.  I phoned them for clarification regarding the CCTV tape and got through to the control room.  A cowardly male [who would not reveal his name for ‘security’ reasons] said enthusiastically, “Two kids on bikes were picked up on CCTV, playing dangerously close to the waves.  The sea was extremely rough.  They could have been dragged in.  We had to send police out to them for their own safety.”  He then said, “The road was closed and the tide was coming in.”  I asked if I could see the tape.  He replied, “It’s been taped over; it’s standard procedure; we only keep the tapes for twenty four hours.”  He added, “There is no evidence of the incident.”  I spat, “I small a rat.  This is a set up.”  He said, “No rats.”  I asked, “What time were my kids seen on tape?”  He replied, “About 1.30 pm.”  He continued, “13.06 was high-tide, then it was going out.”  I said, “My children were not as risk.  They were bone dry.  There was a man [in shorts] on a bike, a man [in shorts] jogging and two other kids there – drenched.”  I added, “That camera didn’t budge.”  He went quiet, then tried to tell me that it rolls all the time.  He asked how I’d got through to the control room and then said that he’ll try to find out more for me and that he’d phone me back   He didn’t

At 1.45 pm, I tried to phone control room to ask about the connection between the CCTV and the picture in Saturday’s Post.  The switchboard said, “the CCTV room is busy,” that “they’re not taking any calls right now” and to “phone back at 2.30 pm.”  I phoned at 3.00 pm.  I was put through, but the phone just rang its head off.  At 3.15 pm I phoned again and got through to the control room.  A bloke said [in sickly sweet tone], “The supervisor says he’s tied up right now, he’ll call you back.”  I asked if the supervisor was the bloke that I’d spoken to earlier.  He answered, “Yes; I can’t give you his name for security reasons.”  At 3.20 pm, the unnamed bloke called back.  I asked if he was the chap that I’d spoken to this morning.  He said he wasn’t!  He continued, “I’ve heard that the police said that a member of the public rang them – it was an emergency call regarding your kids.”  I asked what he saw on the tape.  He said, “Two children riding bikes.  The waves were coming over the prom.  The children were riding under the pier.”  I asked the time that this happened.  He said, “12.30 pm.”  I asked if anyone else was there.  He said that there wasn’t and that the tape will be here now for thirtyone days.  He said that he’d watched the tape for two minutes.  I asked why he’d said twentyfour hours earlier on.  He waffled on about real time tapes [twentyfour hours] and time-lapse tapes [thirtyone days.]  I asked why he didn’t just say earlier that it was kept for thirtyone days.  He said, “Because you didn’t ask and anyway, only the police are allowed to view it.” 

This is called taking the p…. You’d think the insects in the council and the police grubs would’ve got their story straight before stitching us up.  I told him that one day this would all come out and that everyone will know that the cowards in the control room at the council need to hide behind anonymity because they are such liars.  I told him that the public will be interested to know how their hard earned council contributions are spent and that they will be furious to learn that their taxes are used to frame innocents.   

MARCH 9^TH 1999

I had quite an interesting chat with the head teacher of the school where GW’s children attended before they moved to Colwyn Bay.  I’d met the Head once before when Gareth and I were together.  At that time, Gareth’s daughter had been experiencing problems with various teachers and with her schoolwork and as the dutiful step mum-to-be, I’d tried to help her.  I explained that Gareth and I had now separated, that I faced a bitter court battle and that I was aware of his ex-wife’s shocking misfortune because of that evil monster.  I told her about Gareth’s violent behaviour towards me and the kids, especially his son and mine and that GW’s ex-wife was also treated abominably by him and by the authorities.  I told her of my fears - that Gareth might get custody of my babies because he seems to be able to bully anyone to get what he wants.  I informed her that Gareth always boasted that police would never touch him and that he’d smirk when he told me that social and welfare workers were soon shown the door if they tried to intervene.  She confirmed everything that I already knew and agreed with me that it was puzzling as to why his ex-wife lost her children and was denied all contact and that it was odd that social services took no action considering the fact they were heavily involved as were the police.  She said that she had reason to believe that something at home was seriously wrong and that that was why she’d called in social and educational welfare workers.  She told me that Gareth had battered his son and his ex wife and that I should get him charged with child abuse.  In my innocence I asked how I go about doing that. She replied with a wry laugh that I’d need to contact social services.  I asked if she would testify or write a statement, which would assist me in court.  She said she’d have to check with the school governors.  She asked for my solicitor’s details.

Throughout the day I made impromptu visits to the prom to spy on big brother, but he still hasn’t budged!  The kids also scrutinized him at different times but he remained asleep. It is pretty obvious that the CCTV in question is not and was not in operation on Friday 5^th March but does anyone give a toss???  They are conspiring against me.  They are framing Andy and Shelly.  They want my kids registered on the Child Protection ‘At Risk’ register.  They are helping Gareth achieve his evil aims.  They want to take my children off me.  Why else would they play these sordid games?  Are they trying to send me mad?  Do they want to destroy me? What the hell’s going on?  Damn it.  Who the hell is he? 

My thoughts then drifted back to my time with Gareth Williams.  He’d say such sinister things to me whenever I threatened to end our relationship, such as, “You’ll never be free of me.  I’ll block everything you try to do and then I’ll kill you – or someone else will.  You’ll just be attacked in broad daylight in front of everyone – you, your horrible kids and your dad.  And no one will help you.  No one cares.  You won’t know what’s hit you.  And then you’ll be dead.”  I would chill to the bone.  But then he would see my expression of horror and would immediately be apologetic and would [incredibly] try to reassure me that he was only joking.

MARCH 10^TH 1999

I had to take my babies to the court welfare office so that they could be observed interacting with my archrival.  I had to sit outside and mind my own business.  In discussions beforehand, Vera told me that ours was the most acrimonious case she’d come across.  She’d never seen such hatred between parents.  I made it clear to her that the difference was I was battling against all adversity for the truth to come out about Gareth Williams whereas he was spinning everyone a pack of lies about me.  The problem is that all this is largely about his word against mine and with the way my mind is focused on plots and cloak and dagger stuff, I’m convinced he is getting all the professional help he needs.  It is easy to see now how criminals get away with murder and that our world encourages immorality.  One thing is for sure, crime pays, and in order to survive you have to lie.

Dad popped by to inform me that his girlfriend [a councillor] had made enquiries on my behalf regarding the authenticity of the CCTV incident and that he too had spoken to some people in the council about the matter and that everyone says the same thing – that my kids were seen on CCTV on their bikes dodging the waves.  He even breezed that various people offered this information before he had even mentioned it and so that proves they’re telling the truth and that it is Andrew and Shell who are lying.  He urged me not to believe everything they tell me, as all kids lie.  I was furious. I stormed, “Dad, I can’t believe how gullible you are.  Of course they all told you the same thing – they’ve had a couple of days to get their story straight. They are lying through their teeth.  They changed their story and contradicted the PC’s version; the kids clothes were completely DRY and that camera is still not working now – go and look at it.”  He then told me that the camera does sometimes remain still for quite a while but that it doesn’t mean that it isn’t working.  He also said that his mate at the council informed him that it was focussed in the direction of Old Colwyn for ages on Friday without moving. I replied, “Yeah, right.  Get him to put that in writing – he won’t.  You even saw for yourself that it was focussed ON THE PIER.” 

Dad crossly told me to stop being so paranoid and that no one is going to take my kids off me, that the courts always let children live with their mum especially ones as young as Jordan and Melissa.  I said that I wished I could be so trusting and let justice run its course but that I had a horrible sinking feeling in my stomach that my worst fears might come true and that I had some very powerful enemies.  I even added that I wouldn’t be surprised if someone tried to bump me off.  Then I made a casual remark that if that did happen, I hope that he would allow Andrew and Shell to continue learning at home, that they wouldn’t be a burden to him as they work largely unsupervised.  I also said that should the unthinkable happen – and nothing is out of the question considering the state the world is in, I pray he would contact Gareth’s ex wife for her support and testimonial and order a full public enquiry into police, social services and council business because there is definitely something sinister going on.  Dad was not very convincing when he tried to tell me that I was only fighting one man and that Gareth is no big fish.

Again I made my ritual lengthy visits to that controversial camera and again it remained perfectly still and focused on the pier.

MARCH 11^TH 1999

I unloaded a bit of stress on the squash court during a bit of a knock around with Andrew and Shell. Jordan and Mel spent half an hour in crèche.

I read an interesting piece in a mag today.  It said, “In order to live free and happily, you must sacrifice boredom.  It is not always an easy sacrifice.”  Normally I’d agree with such a statement but although I’d certainly never class myself as bored, I couldn’t say that I was free and happy either – far from it.  I would say though that I never get depressed – because I just don’t have time to be.

Andrew was ultra cooperative today – he tidied up without being told to and he brought me cup of tea from time to time.  I asked him if he was ailing.

The kids and I made our regular repetitive intrinsic survey of the controvertible CCTV.  Still it remains fixed in the same position as it was last Friday!

I traced the previous owners of Gareth’s house because I remember Gareth did the dirty on them and forced them into dropping another few thousand off the price at the last minute or the deal would be off.  I know the owners wanted to plant one on his nose for that.  I also remembered that their son-in-law worked for a carpet shop and that he could provide a perfect testimonial for a particularly brazen insurance fraud that Gareth perpetrated soon after he took residence of his new pad.  I explained that I needed witnesses as to Gareth’s unsavoury character as I am locked in a bitterly contested court battle.  They were happy to lend their support where appropriate and said they would consult their solicitor for directions.

MARCH 12^TH 1999

It’s Jordan’s birthday today.  He is a big two years old.  Dad dropped by with a fluffy mobile phone for him then the kids and I took off to the pool for a celebration swim.  Guess who just appeared out of the blue, followed us up to the leisure centre and sat in the café gawping at us for the hour we spent in the water!  I didn’t give the repugnant rat the satisfaction of acknowledging his presence.  Andrew and Shell busied themselves diving in, racing each other and fooling about.  The babies and I busied ourselves in the shallow bit where Jordan splashed and shrieked for most of the session and Mel watched him with wide-eyed wonder.  We walked home via the prom and pier so that I could check up on the camera of intrigue.  Not surprisingly its position had not altered one jot.  We later enjoyed a nice quiet tea of all the naughty but nice stuff and an extra special cream gateaux with two candles on for the birthday boy.  Andrew and Shell made us all some choccy rice crispy cakes too.

MARCH 13^TH 1999

Andrew and I discovered that some unpalatable prat [no prizes for guessing who] had again shoved superglue in the keyhole of our super-heavy shed padlock.  I spent the next twenty minutes hacking away at it until the thing broke off.  It’s at such times that I could do with a bloke around the house.  Not that Andrew would let me date again – he reckons he’s the man of the house now and that I’m not allowed another man – ever.  No point buying another padlock when Mr Detestable is bound to come along and wreck it again.

Jordan came out with a few mumbled incoherent words.  The only clear word he said was, “Christ.”  It knocked me for six and it didn’t help matters when Shell quipped, “You’ll have to watch what you say now mum.”  “Smarty pants,” I hissed.

Well surprise, surprise, the debatable CCTV is now in fully-fledged flow!  The council crooks have only just decided that they’d better turn the damned thing on.  Maybe they got wind of the fact that I wasn’t going to shut up about it.  Those tricksters know who they are and they’d better be aware that their lies will come back to haunt them.  It is only a matter of time.

MARCH 14^TH 1999

I caught the tail end of a bible program.  I never used to be a religious person; I used to tell schools that they shouldn’t teach RE because God does not exist and the bible is a myth.  Thinking back that was a bit arrogant of me – how the hell do I know?  How does anyone know if there is God, heaven, hell….; if Jesus is God’s son and if he did perform miracles…. It really is a matter of opinion and of individual experience.  But I’ve always felt that a true Christian is an admirable person and that if we could all live our lives according to bible rules, the world would indeed be a much happier, healthier and safer place.  Genuine Christians do seem to be happy folk with marriages intact and children who are seemingly without vice.  I’ve always been put off the idea of going to church, singing songs and reading bible parables and I think there is too much hypocrisy in the church especially among Christian elders and leaders.  Strangely I was prepared to sacrifice my own feelings and make church a big part of my life for Gareth’s sake as I believed the church was the only thing left that could help us make our relationship work, help calm Gareth’s vile aggression and keep him off the bottle.  But after one visit [during the latter months of our relationship] he refused to attend again.  Ironically now that we’ve parted, he is a regular and active member of the parish.  I wouldn’t classify him as a Christian though!  I’m often in two minds as to whether God really does exist.  Since all of our bad experiences of late make me question our authorities’ integrity and purpose and my belief that there is no justice system anywhere on earth, I am looking more and more to the divine for answers.  I know my own behaviour is more ‘God-like’ daily and my desire to challenge the wicked grows stronger all the time.  I have faith that the evil of the world will one day be eradicated forever.  I believe that some people genuinely feel that they have an important role to do in promoting God’s word and that they achieve this in various successful ways according to their personality. 

Some are happy to knock on doors and hand out leaflets, some write and sing Christian songs, stories and hymns, some preach the bible and visit the sick, poor and imprisoned and others act out their religious message.  I must admit I find it intriguing that there is so much faith, so many followers and that the bible is so widely read worldwide.  Dad calls them all [all fifty percent of the world’s population] crackpots!  He’s a devout atheist.  I suppose I’m one of these who need hard facts and evidence to be one hundred percent persuaded.  A lot of what the bible says about the evils of money and the ugly selfishness and destructive greed of mankind is true and there is much wisdom in its teachings but I’m a bit sceptical about the idea of Jesus’ resurrection, his one hundred and forty four thousand future faithful anointed followers, a one thousand year long judgement day etc et cetera.  If the bible really was written by God, I reckon a heck of a lot of it has been distorted by man to somehow make us sceptical so that Satan can continue his reign.  I reckon it is more likely that Jesus’ purpose on Earth was to overthrow the corrupt government where he lived and grew up in so that everyone could share in the land’s wealth and prosperity and that pain and suffering would be no more.  I believe that his promise of righteous rule was an unwelcome challenge to the evil men in power and as such they had him executed. 

It would’ve been a bit like someone now toppling Tony Blair and more importantly Bill Clinton and setting a pure example of honest rule in an honourable government so that everyone benefits.  What a perfect dream.  If that happened we’d gradually see the decline of courts and associated staff, police forces, prisons, hospitals, mental institutions, social services…. I think many people become mentally ill because of some injustice that they’ve suffered and lies that they’ve been fed.  Many people are unfairly imprisoned because they have: taken the law into their own hands when our judiciary failed them, taken the wrap for someone else’s crime, been the wrong colour, spoken out against corruption and oppression…. I suspect that many of our prisoners are in truth our very brave saviours.  I guess if we could all somehow find a way of turning anything bad that has been done unto us into something positive [which would give us back some control, however small] then maybe we’d have hope for a radical change towards peace and prosperity in the future.  I believe we all have to suffer some type of hardship to make us kill complacency and get off our backsides to fight for Godly rule.

MARCH 15^TH 1999

Andrew had a bit of a giggle about Jordan’ collection of cars that he safeguards by hiding them all under his mattress.  I passed a remark that he used to collect breccy bowls and hide them under his cupboard.  Anyone would think I never fed him – he was only four or five too!

Talk Radio covered a discussion on the failings of schools.  I couldn’t resist a bit of a knowing smile when a headmaster came on to give his point of view and despite much prompting could not get his opinion over.  This head kept referring to a piece that he’d read in the Observer but we were none the wiser and after a quarter hour of senseless waffle, he was cut off.  Numerous people phoned in with remarks such as, “With heads like that, no wonder our schools are abysmally deficient.”

MARCH 16^TH 1999

The kids and I visited our hairdresser.  As usual the chitchat drifted on to home tuition.  I was asked if I set the kids homework!  Funnily enough it is quite a common question.  Andrew and Shell nagged me to give them the key so that they could let themselves in as they were bored waiting for me.  Since the salon is at the top of our road and only a few doors away from our house, I grudgingly agreed.  But despite my warnings, the silly buggers ended up leaving the keys on the table and going out to play on the drive.  We got locked out.  Luckily dad was at home and [armed with spare key] came to the rescue within minutes.  From now on I’ll carry a spare with me so that the kids can let themselves in if I get nattering to any of the neighbours [which happens quite frequently.]

Lauri and baby Jamie dropped in.  She said she’d seen Andrew and Shell in the paper and I briefed her on recent dubitable events.  Lauri wondered if, considering all the flack I’m getting with social services and police, that maybe I’m being targeted because I unconventionally teach my kids at home and maybe the powers that be think I’m a little odd.  She advised me to stick them back in school.  Dad also dropped a large hint that maybe under the circumstances I’d be better off with the kids back in school.  I really can’t understand that kind of attitude.  No one is considering what’s best for Andrew and Shelly.  Maybe I am being victimised because I do things a little differently but that’s not going to stop me.  To put them is school would be going against everything I believe in and Andrew and Shell would be miserable, bullied mercilessly, uneducated and troubled.

Shell likes to do shape sorters with pud.  Trouble is he has a habit of removing the lid and then lobbing the shapes in; or he’ll just stack them up, one by one.

I gave the kids a little pep talk abut being happy with themselves because of all the things they can do but not to be big-headed.  The prince of lies then cropped up in the conversation.  I said, “Gareth is a tiresome bragger who spouts off about his exaggerated self-centred experiences that mostly prove to be lies.”  I told them it’s important to love themselves in order to love others and not to put others down to make themselves look good.  I said it is healthy to be proud of your achievements and to acknowledge that you’ve worked hard.  I told them to, “Be happy when you master something but don’t say you’re better than others.” The kids seem to have grown up overnight.  I have such admiration for them – they are tough little creatures.  Half the time I find myself looking to them [especially Andrew] for strength and support when I’m feeling a little weak and defeatist.  They have such awareness and maturity for their ages and they know the way the world works.  They scorn social services and mock the police and they know all about hypocrisy, corruption and injustice yet they still know exactly how to behave when anyone in a position of authority addresses them.  Smart kids.  I was quite the opposite at their age – I was a shy and giggly trusting schoolgirl.