A few weeks ago I attended a ‘curriculum meeting’ at my daughter’s school, to find out what she will be doing during her year in Reception. One of the things we learned about was the ‘Phonics’ system of learning to read. This, as the name suggests, is all about concentrating on sounds, and from the way the teachers described it, I thought it was a sensible approach, as well as a fun way for kids to learn.
However, at a conference last week, ‘Reading Stories: Does it Make Sense?’, the approach was questioned. Michael Rosen, the former children’s laureate, pointed out that nowhere in an Ofsted report is reading, or a school’s possession of books, mentioned.
Furthermore, it has to be highlighted that Ruth Miskin, government advisor on education, and the keenest promoter of the phonics system around, is herself the author of a very popular phonics scheme.
I got the impression from the parents’ curriculum meeting, which only a handful of parents attended (it was held during working hours so obviously would’ve been impossible for working parents to attend),that with class sizes of almost 30, there is only so much reading the teachers can do with the kids individually. The teachers invited us parents to come in and sit with the children in the reading corner and help out when we can.
All of this points to the fact that switched-on parents are going to give their kids a head start, and that children from less privileged backgrounds will, from the outset, lag behind. The incredible levels of inequality are brought home by the fact that children from homes with 500 books or more receive, on average, three times as much ‘teaching’ at home. Another telling statistic: children from language-rich backgrounds have heard 32 million more words by the age of five than those from deprived backgrounds.
It is well known that by the age of eighteen months the kids from a nurturing home have leapt ahead of the children from deprived backgrounds, so by the time we get them into school the gap has already opened up, the danger being that it will never close, only widen. I’d like to see parenting classes as standard, rather than the education system trying to bridge the gap almost five years too late, with over-stretched teachers taking on a parenting role. I’d also recommend getting older people into our classrooms to give individual reading assistance. This would give possibly isolated seniors who want to keep their minds active a chance to use their knowledge and help instil the youngest members of society with a life-long love of books and learning.
I’d also like to see the government re-commit to Book Start, the scheme run in conjunction with Booktrust. This is a scheme which gives all babies and toddlers free books, regardless of their background. The coalition government have halved the funding they give to the scheme, though at present it is limping onwards. It would be a tragedy if this scheme fell by the wayside altogether, because, coupled with library closures – which writer Alan Bennett deemed ‘child abuse’, and rightly so – the end of this scheme would mean pre-schoolers from book-free households wouldn't get near a book until they go to school.
Just one of the delightful ways, then, that our present government are condemning more children to a life of underachievement and frustration, whilst also ensuring that social divisions and gaping inequality worsens by the year.
Saturday, 29 October 2011
Saturday, 15 October 2011
Apple Day 2011: a bumper crop
Another year, another crop of apples...and that can only mean one thing in Stroud Green: Apple Day! This annual fixture has fast become one of my highlights of the year, and Transition Crouch End should be congratulated - alongside the other groups who organise the event - for putting on a great range of stalls each year.
Chris has won the apple peeling competition for the last two years, and so the pressure was on for a hat trick. This year he managed 1 metre, 89 cm. "Disappointing," he mused, "though still enough for me to remain the champion." Indeed, he was crowned champ once again. Next year we really must get the people from the Guinness Book of Records along...
There was apple pressing (the juice was incredible), apple tasting (an apple called Opal was my favourite by far), plus lots of craft activities for the children.
In short, a glorious afternoon, and a great opportunity to catch up with some of my favourite Stroud Greenites. And many thanks to Haringey Green Party member Pamela Harling, who made me laugh when, standing behind a table of around 100 British apple varieties, she declared, "I don't even LIKE apples!" Oh the irony.
Thursday, 13 October 2011
A mine of midwifery misinformation...
On a day when it has been reported that standards of care in many hospitals are woefully inadequate, I had a midwife appointment at University College Hospital. I have so far thankfully found little to complain about in terms of the standard of care at the hospital, a far cry from my experiences at the Royal Free back in 2007. However, the midwife I saw today was an exception to the rule.
I heard staff talking about how short-staffed they were today due to midwives having called in sick, and saw one midwife trying to deal with a long line of patients. When the time came for me to see the midwife (and by this point it was twenty minutes or so after the scheduled appointment time) she apologised for the delay.
I was feeling both anxious and somewhat unwell, and was interested to see what my blood pressure would be today. Surprise, surprise, it was low (70/44). The following exchange then ensued:
Me: It’s quite low, isn’t it?
Midwife: That’s good.
Me: Well…yes, I know it’s safer that it’s low rather than high-
Midwife: That’s right.
Me: - but actually it’s not all that good feeling faint a lot of the time…
Midwife: You’re very anxious, aren’t you?(Laughs)
Me: Yes, I am. I’ve been seeing the psychiatrist here because of the traumatic time I had last time I gave birth. I am feeling very anxious at the moment...not sleeping...
Midwife: Are you taking anything for it?
Me: No…I haven’t been offered anything.
Midwife: Then you must have a very supportive partner. Did you get post-natal depression last time?
Me: No.
Midwife: Well then. And was your baby alright?
Me: She had some trouble breathing…she had a suspected GBS infection and was taken to the Special Care Baby Unit…
Midwife: No. I mean now. Is she okay now?
Me: Yes, oh yes.
Midwife: So you’re booked for a C-section on 31st October. Is your partner planning to stay?
Me: Stay? When?
Midwife: Overnight.
Me: Can you do that?
Midwife: Yes, in a side room with you and the baby.
Me: But I was told I can’t have a side room because I’m having a Caesarean and they have to keep an eye on me…
Midwife: For the first 24 hours, but after that you can.
Me: Oh! I will book one then.
Midwife: You can’t book them.
Me: There’s a sign out there (pointing to the waiting room) about how to book one, though…
Midwife: How would you book one? Think about it!
Me: So why does it say you can on the sign?
Midwife: Well you can, but only once you’re on the post-natal ward. And if you book you have to pay for it.
Me: I am willing to pay for it!
Midwife: I know you are but you can’t book in advance.
WHAAAAT? You get the picture. You know that feeling you get when you’re talking to someone who doesn't know what they’re on about, and so just bullshit you and change the story with every statement they make? Well, that was one of those situations – not at all reassuring in a clinical setting, especially when you’re already feeling anxious!
After palpating my abdomen and declaring the baby’s head is down, I retorted “Are you sure?” I went on to explain that I was told this last time, but after 48 hours in labour, a scanner was wheeled in and the suspicion I had held for weeks was confirmed: the baby was breeched and suddenly it was all systems go for an emergency c-section. The midwife today was most put-out that I doubted her word and uttered the classic “I have been a midwife for a long time, I do know what I’m talking about!”
In short, I left today’s appointment feeling more insecure about my care and how I’ll be treated once I am admitted on 31st October. Yes, the midwife was under pressure due to the short-staffing, but her adversarial, defensive and patronising manner made the exchange unpleasant for the pair of us.
Oh, and the nonsense about the side room? I telephoned the hospital once I got home, and once I had navigated the dodgy 'phone system (this involved being cut off twice...), I was told that I wouldn’t be allowed one if I’d had a c-section, just as I had been told before. I explained that a midwife told me that wasn’t the case after the first 24 hours, and so I was then allowed to book a room. Who knows who has it right and what will happen? As for partners being allowed to stay overnight, it was the first the woman I spoke to on the ‘phone had heard of it.
One last confused note: the midwife bluntly told me that I was 'lucky' to be granted a c-section as I live ‘out of the area’, and it is now policy to only let women have c-sections at their ‘local’ hospitals (in my case that would be the Whittington). If this is correct (and remember, it came from that mine of midwifery misinformation!) then that’s appalling; so much for patient choice.
Thursday, 29 September 2011
Advice to heed...and advice to ignore!
It’s incredible how some advice to pregnant women and new mothers changes with the wind whilst some remains constant for decades. I have here a copy of ‘Babylove: A Practical Guide to a Loving Pregnancy and Parenthood’ by Judy Wade and Val Hudson, published in 1977. (I was born in 1978, so I’ll let you guess whose shelf I plucked this from!).
Some of the advice and the observations remain extremely up to date. For example, on breastfeeding in public, Wade and Hudson write:
‘If anyone sees you breast feeding and objects it’s their attitude that’s wrong, not yours. It’s a pity that the sight of a naked breast in some newspapers and magazines is acceptably naughty but a breast feeding mother is obscene. We think the real obscenity is in the minds of the onlooker who turns a beautiful, natural act into something shameful.’ (p.168)
Bravo! How little times have changed, with women still having to justify and defend their right to breastfeed in public.
The book is focused upon the need for a couple (taken here to be a heterosexual couple, of course!) to keep their ‘romance’ (yuck!) alive throughout pregnancy and afterwards. Here Wade and Hudson had me literally weeping with laughter (thanks, Wade and Hudson!). For example, in the section entitled, ‘Tips for a Sexier Pregnancy’ (which comes with line drawings of sexual positions to try during pregnancy, including the curiously-titled ‘Ride-a-Cock-Horse’ – no, really), we also read:
‘Surprise him – by whispering something very private in a very public place. By dropping a pile of cushions on the floor (preferably in front of a glowing fireplace) as an irresistible invitation. Or make his favourite fantasy come true by going to bed wearing just a black velvet ribbon around your throat like Goya’s Maya nude – or just a pair of silky black stockings.’ (p.75).
Phoaarr! A black velvet ribbon, eh? Hot to trot. (Notice there’s no mention of the bloke bothering to fulfil his partner’s ‘favourite fantasy’…). Wade and Hudson even suggest ‘sensual music’ to play during all this ribbon-wearing and cushion-dropping. ‘You could try Donna Summer’s classic arouser Love to Love you Baby’ apparently. (Anyone else getting an image here of Alison Steadman as suburban housewife Beverley in the Mike Leigh film ‘Abigail’s Party’, wearing her black velvet chocker, dancing to aforesaid track? Uncanny!).
But the best advice the book has to offer concerns childbirth itself. Women are advised to make an effort with their appearance, such as by wearing false eyelashes during labour (it helps with the pain if you look sexy). This is in a chapter entitled ‘How to be Hip in Hospital’. In this chapter there is also the staggering advice to befriend the hospital staff in order to ensure better treatment. One way of doing this is to remember that ‘many nurses and doctors come from abroad. In the first stage of labour when contractions are light you could ask a few friendly questions about their homelands…’ (p.120).
I will end with what is, in my opinion, the most incredible paragraph in the whole bizarre book:
‘A nutty beauty we know decided that the most vital part of producing a baby was getting some superb needlework in her vagina when the doctor stitched her episiotomy after birth. Unfortunately it was 3am when her baby arrived and a woman doctor had to be called from a sound sleep to sew her up. Although our friend wasn’t feeling very chatty she switched on all the high-powered charm she could muster. The result was after a long, careful sewing job the doctor looked up and said: “I’m really proud of my work. I have repaired you so beautifully your husband will come back and thank me in a few week’s time.’ (p.120).
Wow. There are SO many things wrong with the above story that it’s difficult to know where to start! I’ll leave it to you to puzzle over instead.
Now excuse me whilst I go buy some false eyelashes and book myself into a charm school, all whilst trying not to strangulate myself with a black velvet ribbon…
Some of the advice and the observations remain extremely up to date. For example, on breastfeeding in public, Wade and Hudson write:
‘If anyone sees you breast feeding and objects it’s their attitude that’s wrong, not yours. It’s a pity that the sight of a naked breast in some newspapers and magazines is acceptably naughty but a breast feeding mother is obscene. We think the real obscenity is in the minds of the onlooker who turns a beautiful, natural act into something shameful.’ (p.168)
Bravo! How little times have changed, with women still having to justify and defend their right to breastfeed in public.
The book is focused upon the need for a couple (taken here to be a heterosexual couple, of course!) to keep their ‘romance’ (yuck!) alive throughout pregnancy and afterwards. Here Wade and Hudson had me literally weeping with laughter (thanks, Wade and Hudson!). For example, in the section entitled, ‘Tips for a Sexier Pregnancy’ (which comes with line drawings of sexual positions to try during pregnancy, including the curiously-titled ‘Ride-a-Cock-Horse’ – no, really), we also read:
‘Surprise him – by whispering something very private in a very public place. By dropping a pile of cushions on the floor (preferably in front of a glowing fireplace) as an irresistible invitation. Or make his favourite fantasy come true by going to bed wearing just a black velvet ribbon around your throat like Goya’s Maya nude – or just a pair of silky black stockings.’ (p.75).
Phoaarr! A black velvet ribbon, eh? Hot to trot. (Notice there’s no mention of the bloke bothering to fulfil his partner’s ‘favourite fantasy’…). Wade and Hudson even suggest ‘sensual music’ to play during all this ribbon-wearing and cushion-dropping. ‘You could try Donna Summer’s classic arouser Love to Love you Baby’ apparently. (Anyone else getting an image here of Alison Steadman as suburban housewife Beverley in the Mike Leigh film ‘Abigail’s Party’, wearing her black velvet chocker, dancing to aforesaid track? Uncanny!).
But the best advice the book has to offer concerns childbirth itself. Women are advised to make an effort with their appearance, such as by wearing false eyelashes during labour (it helps with the pain if you look sexy). This is in a chapter entitled ‘How to be Hip in Hospital’. In this chapter there is also the staggering advice to befriend the hospital staff in order to ensure better treatment. One way of doing this is to remember that ‘many nurses and doctors come from abroad. In the first stage of labour when contractions are light you could ask a few friendly questions about their homelands…’ (p.120).
I will end with what is, in my opinion, the most incredible paragraph in the whole bizarre book:
‘A nutty beauty we know decided that the most vital part of producing a baby was getting some superb needlework in her vagina when the doctor stitched her episiotomy after birth. Unfortunately it was 3am when her baby arrived and a woman doctor had to be called from a sound sleep to sew her up. Although our friend wasn’t feeling very chatty she switched on all the high-powered charm she could muster. The result was after a long, careful sewing job the doctor looked up and said: “I’m really proud of my work. I have repaired you so beautifully your husband will come back and thank me in a few week’s time.’ (p.120).
Wow. There are SO many things wrong with the above story that it’s difficult to know where to start! I’ll leave it to you to puzzle over instead.
Now excuse me whilst I go buy some false eyelashes and book myself into a charm school, all whilst trying not to strangulate myself with a black velvet ribbon…
Monday, 26 September 2011
Pass the Ear Plugs...
Now at the ‘unmistakably pregnant’ stage of pregnancy (though a woman did ask me if I had irritable bowel syndrome a couple of weeks ago…), my shape is causing near-constant comment from both acquaintances and strangers alike. As someone who generally likes to go about my everyday business without entering into conversations with strangers about my intimate medical history, this is rather irksome.
I know people are just being friendly (in the main), but the range of comments I have been on the receiving end of in the last couple of weeks has sometimes been both intrusive and upsetting, leaving me to ponder whether a lot of people are somehow disturbed by pregnancy, and therefore have a tendency to make a load of unwise comments.
With this in mind I have come up with a handy list of comments to say – and comments decidedly not to say – to pregnant women. All of the comments below are things that have actually been said to me.
Do Say…
“When’s it due?”
“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“Is it your first?”
“How are you feeling?”
In other words, keep it simple, safe and unoriginal. Yes, I am sick to death of answering these questions on an almost hourly basis from delivery men, taxi drivers, newsagents, fellow travellers on the bus (the list goes on…and on), but these are inoffensive and neutral. You’re on safe ground: stay there.
Don’t Say
“Are you OK? Your face looks a bit swollen.”
“Wow. You’re HUGE. Are you having twins?”
“If you don’t know if you’re having a boy or a girl, how do you know what colour baby clothes to wear? OMG! Nightmare!”
Oh, and if I reveal that I am having a planned caesarean, please DON’T say:
“My sister almost bled to death on the operating table when she had a caesarean.”
“If they deliver the baby before the due date, do you know the baby could die?”
“Why are you having a caesarean? You don’t HAVE to have one, you know. I had two home births. They were amazing!”
One last thing: don’t touch the bump unless we are actually friends. (In fact, this doesn’t happen too much to me, probably because of what I like to term my distinct ‘fuck off vibes’. Good).
I know people are just being friendly (in the main), but the range of comments I have been on the receiving end of in the last couple of weeks has sometimes been both intrusive and upsetting, leaving me to ponder whether a lot of people are somehow disturbed by pregnancy, and therefore have a tendency to make a load of unwise comments.
With this in mind I have come up with a handy list of comments to say – and comments decidedly not to say – to pregnant women. All of the comments below are things that have actually been said to me.
Do Say…
“When’s it due?”
“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“Is it your first?”
“How are you feeling?”
In other words, keep it simple, safe and unoriginal. Yes, I am sick to death of answering these questions on an almost hourly basis from delivery men, taxi drivers, newsagents, fellow travellers on the bus (the list goes on…and on), but these are inoffensive and neutral. You’re on safe ground: stay there.
Don’t Say
“Are you OK? Your face looks a bit swollen.”
“Wow. You’re HUGE. Are you having twins?”
“If you don’t know if you’re having a boy or a girl, how do you know what colour baby clothes to wear? OMG! Nightmare!”
Oh, and if I reveal that I am having a planned caesarean, please DON’T say:
“My sister almost bled to death on the operating table when she had a caesarean.”
“If they deliver the baby before the due date, do you know the baby could die?”
“Why are you having a caesarean? You don’t HAVE to have one, you know. I had two home births. They were amazing!”
One last thing: don’t touch the bump unless we are actually friends. (In fact, this doesn’t happen too much to me, probably because of what I like to term my distinct ‘fuck off vibes’. Good).
Sunday, 11 September 2011
A (colourful) update on my 'guerrilla gardening' exploits
Back in May I blogged about the fact that I'd planted a packet of sunflower seeds in an abandoned flowerbed on the corner of Baker's Lane and Archway Road, just by the North Circular. It's a litter-strewn spot and the flowerbed there was completely empty.
It took me about 5 minutes to plant the seeds, and that was the total sum of my efforts.
A local resident last week emailed me to say that the sunflowers were now blooming and looked ‘wonderful’.
When I went to visit the flowers yesterday (see picture) I couldn’t quite believe how big they have grown. Most of them are yet to bloom and so we haven’t seen the best of them yet.
The sunflowers can be seen by drivers as they enter Haringey from the North Circular, so I'd like to think that they provide a bright and cheery welcome to our borough – and all for 99p!
Wednesday, 10 August 2011
Some reflections on the unrest
Rarely has the Chinese curse ‘may you live in interesting times’ occurred to me more frequently than over the last few days. Like many people I have been regularly checking the news to find out the latest on the riots and the looting, which of course started here in Haringey following the shooting of an armed man.
If it hadn’t been for the events that unfolded after the shooting, the focus would now be on the circumstances of the man’s death. Have the Met once again lied to us about a death at their hands, seeing as the earlier reports that they had been shot at have now been proved untrue? Though I believe that if you go about armed with a gun you have to factor in the possibility that you might be shot by the police, it is disturbing to find out once again that the police may have falsified information.
Yesterday however we saw the Met applauded by some people who were helping to clear up the mess left by rioters. Usually suspicious of the police force here in London, partly due to my own experience of them when attending peaceful demos, I have for the last few days felt a sympathy for them. It really is a case of damned if they do and damned if they don’t, with forces being accused of not taking enough tough action against the lawless.
Indeed, David Cameron’s rhetoric (once he’d seen fit to return from Tuscany) is becoming more macho by the day, knowing as he does that ‘the people’ (certainly the ones who might vote for his party) want to see a tough approach and punishment metered out to the guilty parties. Not for him a reasoned analysis of what may have provoked this behaviour.
Now we’re seeing vigilantes on the streets in some parts of the country, supposedly ‘protecting’ their communities but actually just getting wrapped up in the same mob mentality and thirst for violence as the rioters themselves.
I am not for a moment going to suggest that the rioters and looters have any sort of ideology behind their actions. Most of them are angry people who feel they have been handed a shitty deal in life, and see this as a perfect opportunity to vent their spleen, and maybe get some free trainers at the same time. Has it got anything to do with the police shooting, the cuts, a mandate-less Government of millionaires who are driving more into poverty? Not on the surface of things; not in any thought-out or easily articulated way.
What perhaps saddened me the most was the comments of some girls who had taken part in the looting. They said that they were showing the rich that they could do this, and striking out against those who had businesses. But in attacking local businesses they are of course lessening the amount of local jobs, damaging the local economy and punishing – and possibly ruining - what may already be struggling shop owners. Clearly though, when you’re caught up in the excitement of vandalising and looting, you’re not going to be sitting back and thinking about the pros and cons, the long-term consequences of your actions either for your local area and your own future.
Indeed, just ask Boris Johnson and David Cameron, who, in the Bullingdon Club back in their Oxford days, went on vandalising sprees, sometimes peppering it with a bit of arson. Doesn’t seem to have damaged their prospects, when you come to think of it…
I’m not sure what the answers are, nor can I fully explain the reasons behind the violence we’ve been seeing. I was struck to see the events last night at Salford Shopping precinct, a spot I know well since I lived in the area during my first two years of university (1996-1998). Back then, the Langworthy estate where I lived was known locally as ‘Beirut’. Packs of kids, some as young as 5, would rampage through the streets. Wherever we students went we would have abuse hurled at us, mostly driven by envy – and who could blame them? The time around bonfire night was particularly frightening, as fireworks (which seemed to be in endless supply, even to the youngest kids) would be thrown and used as weapons (I remember one going off right next to my then girlfriend’s face).
Other students we knew had lit fireworks lobbed into their living room, whilst others had to face a terrifying evening of aggravated burglary. Old people lived in fear and abandoned terraces were often set ablaze. Anyone who co-operated with – or was rumoured to have co-operated with – the police would have their houses daubed with graffiti, declaring them a ‘grass’. I also recall homophobic and racist graffiti on particular houses too. What I don’t recall is much of a police presence, strangely. Indeed, at one car boot sale I remember seeing boxed trainers with labels on them boasting ‘stolen last night’ and ‘nicked yesterday’. Here were people who had either nothing to lose or who knew the police would not act.
In short, it seems incredible that it has taken so long for violence like this to break out in Salford, or in other equally deprived, poorly-educated places. It will be a miracle if this is the end of the violence. If it got us to look at our incredibly unequal, consumerism-crazy society and really change things from the bottom up we could say something good had come of this. However, what we are more likely to see is reactionary responses, more social divisions, more hatred, and more of a mandate for the police to use an increasingly heavy hand. I am already worried about the impact this outbreak will have on the right to peacefully protest in the future, a right we will have to defend to the death.
If it hadn’t been for the events that unfolded after the shooting, the focus would now be on the circumstances of the man’s death. Have the Met once again lied to us about a death at their hands, seeing as the earlier reports that they had been shot at have now been proved untrue? Though I believe that if you go about armed with a gun you have to factor in the possibility that you might be shot by the police, it is disturbing to find out once again that the police may have falsified information.
Yesterday however we saw the Met applauded by some people who were helping to clear up the mess left by rioters. Usually suspicious of the police force here in London, partly due to my own experience of them when attending peaceful demos, I have for the last few days felt a sympathy for them. It really is a case of damned if they do and damned if they don’t, with forces being accused of not taking enough tough action against the lawless.
Indeed, David Cameron’s rhetoric (once he’d seen fit to return from Tuscany) is becoming more macho by the day, knowing as he does that ‘the people’ (certainly the ones who might vote for his party) want to see a tough approach and punishment metered out to the guilty parties. Not for him a reasoned analysis of what may have provoked this behaviour.
Now we’re seeing vigilantes on the streets in some parts of the country, supposedly ‘protecting’ their communities but actually just getting wrapped up in the same mob mentality and thirst for violence as the rioters themselves.
I am not for a moment going to suggest that the rioters and looters have any sort of ideology behind their actions. Most of them are angry people who feel they have been handed a shitty deal in life, and see this as a perfect opportunity to vent their spleen, and maybe get some free trainers at the same time. Has it got anything to do with the police shooting, the cuts, a mandate-less Government of millionaires who are driving more into poverty? Not on the surface of things; not in any thought-out or easily articulated way.
What perhaps saddened me the most was the comments of some girls who had taken part in the looting. They said that they were showing the rich that they could do this, and striking out against those who had businesses. But in attacking local businesses they are of course lessening the amount of local jobs, damaging the local economy and punishing – and possibly ruining - what may already be struggling shop owners. Clearly though, when you’re caught up in the excitement of vandalising and looting, you’re not going to be sitting back and thinking about the pros and cons, the long-term consequences of your actions either for your local area and your own future.
Indeed, just ask Boris Johnson and David Cameron, who, in the Bullingdon Club back in their Oxford days, went on vandalising sprees, sometimes peppering it with a bit of arson. Doesn’t seem to have damaged their prospects, when you come to think of it…
I’m not sure what the answers are, nor can I fully explain the reasons behind the violence we’ve been seeing. I was struck to see the events last night at Salford Shopping precinct, a spot I know well since I lived in the area during my first two years of university (1996-1998). Back then, the Langworthy estate where I lived was known locally as ‘Beirut’. Packs of kids, some as young as 5, would rampage through the streets. Wherever we students went we would have abuse hurled at us, mostly driven by envy – and who could blame them? The time around bonfire night was particularly frightening, as fireworks (which seemed to be in endless supply, even to the youngest kids) would be thrown and used as weapons (I remember one going off right next to my then girlfriend’s face).
Other students we knew had lit fireworks lobbed into their living room, whilst others had to face a terrifying evening of aggravated burglary. Old people lived in fear and abandoned terraces were often set ablaze. Anyone who co-operated with – or was rumoured to have co-operated with – the police would have their houses daubed with graffiti, declaring them a ‘grass’. I also recall homophobic and racist graffiti on particular houses too. What I don’t recall is much of a police presence, strangely. Indeed, at one car boot sale I remember seeing boxed trainers with labels on them boasting ‘stolen last night’ and ‘nicked yesterday’. Here were people who had either nothing to lose or who knew the police would not act.
In short, it seems incredible that it has taken so long for violence like this to break out in Salford, or in other equally deprived, poorly-educated places. It will be a miracle if this is the end of the violence. If it got us to look at our incredibly unequal, consumerism-crazy society and really change things from the bottom up we could say something good had come of this. However, what we are more likely to see is reactionary responses, more social divisions, more hatred, and more of a mandate for the police to use an increasingly heavy hand. I am already worried about the impact this outbreak will have on the right to peacefully protest in the future, a right we will have to defend to the death.
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