Come home Bob: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PUM8mXJre1c
Recounting memories to you of sitting in hospitals again. This, of course is always the saddest story, and I still cry:
You looked like you were just sleeping
dreaming of the playtimes of all your children
dreaming of the edge of the granite land
beside the ash tree and the endless road
Dreaming that you were young again
in a world less worn and polluted, more green and sweet,
you are a young man again, strong and proud
watching his children play in the sunshine
maybe you will stay there and remember
while the children who grew up and flew the nest
grieve, beyond you happy dream
and I fly above the granite land where we played
and away from you forever, into my own endless darkness.
So I sat there while you lay in the hospital bed.
You didn't seem like you any more and yet you did seem like you as well.
But you weren't really there any more.
You looked like you were just sleeping, but you never woke.
I sat there and hated myself, for having gone away, for not having been there for you. For letting someone else call himself my father so that he could abuse me, just because I had remained afraid of you and the family
In the end, in your last year, we got on OK and you tried to help me out. And that made it feel worse as I sat there. Because I felt I had failed you in every way. I was being shunned and vilified by people who really believed that me reporting abuse was worse than their dishonestly and deceit and abuse. I was in hell, and I felt that you were going to heaven.
I felt what I tend to feel these days, that anyone who gets to leave this world now before it gets worse is almost lucky.
That is an extreme thought but my life has been so dark for so long and already had been when I sat beside you alone when they switched your life support off.
It was three days, and I had to fly back to Jersey in the meantime as there was no-one and nowhere to turn to for help.
Please Mr God
I just want to talk to him
I'll only keep him a while
please Mr God,
I just want to tell him goodbye
please...
tell him Goodbye
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QN_89-_K3f0
Saturday, 21 November 2015
The Bible and the church
Come home Bob: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DGGJbwmhIZ8
This little thing from twitter reminds me, so much of the Jersey Deanery's Bible-based evil:
Friday, 20 November 2015
Someone has brought this post up on the blog...
I skimmed through it but the record blood pressure reading seems to have been missed out.
http://whatreallyhappenedinthechurch.blogspot.co.uk/2014/06/st-peter-autumn-2009-to-summer-2010.html#.Vk7tlL-Q_D4
http://whatreallyhappenedinthechurch.blogspot.co.uk/2014/06/st-peter-autumn-2009-to-summer-2010.html#.Vk7tlL-Q_D4
Tuesday, 17 November 2015
The story of an inspirational and moral man (That he told me not to write!)
Well we are sitting here, and I remember, after a so long of not remembering, because for so long I have not had the luxury of memories, all I have known for years is raw pain, and memories, especially good ones, have been buried deep inside to stop me from collapsing.
But behind the smears and lies and collaborations of the arrogant and comfortable of the Diocese of Winchester, there is another story, other stories, which would be too damaging to their hatred and judgementof me for them ever to let them be heard by the people they have taught to hate and shun me.
So we are sitting here and you are making sure I eat something and drink several hot drinks at last.
For the past weeks and especially the last few days, I haven't really known or cared about sleeping or eating or anything, I don't know what is going on in my own life, the neat lists, rotas, bill payments and other tidy and fastidious arrangements are all shattered, the little world of boxes that is the best soother for autism is all gone, and I no longer know anything, but you know I need food and drink, and just as you always have, you look after my welfare first and foremost.
As we sit, the memories bubble up, uncontainable, rich and sparkling and flowing, no rhyme or reason, and I smile for the first time in days of tears.
As you read this, remember that although it was at a time that I was struggling desparately after escaping the childhood from hell, I was part of the community, surrounded by friends and with a full life, not in any way like the desparate ruined and angry mess that I am now, back then was before the Diocese of Winchester destroyed me and took the friends that I mention by slander and interventions.
So I tell you what I remember and I smile after days of tears.
I tell you I have sat by too many hospital beds already. I tell you about Jonny in Southampton Neuro, making his miracle recovery and that day when J. said dryly 'Well he's well enough to tell his brother to shut up!'
Well it is one of the very best neurological units, what would you expect but miracles?
I remember all the hospitals, all the times I have sat by beds, but of course there is there is one that stands out, also a miracle recovery.
He was like no one I have ever met before, and I have only met one like him since, and the one I have met since is also having a break in hospital now.
He was a completely honest man who had no use for lies or deceit, he didn't want much and he didn't need people, but quietly and selflessly he worked for others, often unnoticed, he was usually polite to people face to face although he sometimes amused me by being honest to me about his feelings towards certain people, I felt honoured that he confided in me. The certain people he didn't approve of in our immediate community used alcohol and drugs and had other vices, and he had no time for them.
He had a sense of humour although he seemed so serious, and when I was going to meet him first time a certain person warned me to be careful not to upset him, so I was expecting an ogre but he was an angel.
I had to shadow him, learn from him, and although back then my mind wasn't focussed, it was a joy to work with him.
I remember when he became my friend, I had ordered a ton of gravel and was raking it into place and he came by, took a short cut through my garden as he did, and he didn't say a thing, just picked up the rake and started helping to distribute the gravel on the driveway.
He told me that I should come to tea some time, he and his wife would be pleased to see me.
I smile as I remember this because I know that made me very honoured. They didn't invite many people. They lived a simple, honest and lovely life and I really respected them.
One of my favourite stories that he always told me was when the Lord of the Manor came charging round in the range rover, and his wife opened the door, she peered out at him and said 'Oh, who are you?!' in a most dissaproving tone.
I would go to tea sometimes, not frequently but sometimes, to be friendly, they were such special people. Tea meant china cups of tea with a little bit of cake and biscuits. I was still young, so to me I wasn't quite sure of this ritual but time with them was special.
They lived simply as I said, honestly and without any pride or ego or boastfulness, indeed it took me a long time to actually realise what amazing people these were and what talent they hid.
I think the first of the surprises was when I found out that he was a believer and a churchgoer, although I never heard him mention God or call himself a Christian or even use the word. And I understand why, I really do. But another surprise was that his place in church was as organist, until his hands grew too shaky, and then in the choir.
He had left school aged 14 and had been a gardener all his life apart from his days in the navy, which he always mentioned with a slight smile, but he had taught himself music, entirely, and that wasn't his only talent.
He was an artist, and again, he was self, taught. in 'the other room' that they didn't use to sit in, but which had the piano and various jumble, the portraits he had drawn lined the walls, amazing and each with a story behind them.
What an incredible man.
And of course he was the best gardener I have ever met or ever will meet.
So he and his wife were my friends, it didn't matter that they were elderly, age is irrelevant to me, if decent human beings reach out in friendship to me, that is what matters to me. Often it is older people who have the maturity to understand my solitude battles more.
This lovely couple had no children or pets, they had their little house and the immaculate gardens, they kept themselves to themselves. And I consider myself to be very lucky to be someone who got to know them.
He had been showing plants and vegetables and flowers for more years than he cared to remember, and if I remember correctly, he had asked Fleet show to stop giving him the cup each year, was it the cost or getting it re-engraved or was it that he thought it was silly to get a cup? He never wanted his prize money or certificates. That was how he was.
But he took delight in teaching me to grow and tend plants, and more delight in taking me to shows and teaching me to show plants and compete against him.
I was already someone who competed in the show, but with floral art, under the watchful eye of Anne, I always will smile to remember her own teaching, where she got me and Fiona working on our floral art show entries, both working on our competing projects, there at the same table and under her eye.
But now it was time for me to move on to the serious stuff. The horticultural competitions.
It is funny, he had been competing for so long but he didn't know of the village show in my home village, and so I introduced him to it, the show where every year I spent days helping to set up for the show and then spent the show day and the Sunday killing myself trying to help with everything.
Not only did I introduce him to the show but also to Mike and Shirley, who he became fast friends with. I remember Shirley saying to me after meeting him that she thought 'I like you' when she met him. They used to pass messages through me sometimes, usually about show schedules and cup engravings, of course, that kind of thing, and would he like some of the newly made jam? or would they like some fresh cut flowers?
We started to transform the huge wild garden at my cottage into a real plot for vegetable and flower growing, and he didn't see much point in my tree felling project but he came and helped anyway. My cats loved him, and after openly being a cat hater all his life because cats are destructive to gardens, he grew fond of my cats and their antics and for a long time I had a photo of him holding the half-siamese cat in his arms. He seemed in awe of this cat because it was clever and he didn't realise a cat could think things through like that one did.
He used to laugh that he couldn't take a nap in the hammock that I had tied between the apple trees becase that cat of mine would be hiding in the tree and launch itself like a missile.
He taught me about dustbin parsnips, the very best for the show, of course the growing mix had to be just right. He showed me how make rings for show vegetables and he made me read my show handbook carefully and learn.
Then one week he wasn't at work, and I was surprised, he didn't text me or phone or call round to the cottage.
All I knew at the end of the week was that the lady of the house told me he was ill.
I went round to see if I could help. Because his wife was disabled since she slipped and hurt her leg badly, so I wanted to know if I could help, but he had already been admitted to hospital.
He was in for a while that time, and I watered the plants and gave his wife lifts to the hospital.
But for some reason they sent him home when he was still very ill.
I grew increasingly concerned, and one evening I asked for a break from shift to go and speak to the hospital. I was horrified by the callousness of the nurse I spoke to. Basically she was saying he was an old man and a waste of a bed and to let him die.
But next day he was re-admitted.
He was in a bad way now, and he slept, with the tubes draining and feeding him.
I was tired and I was in pain and I didn't know why.
I went to work and worked hard, I studied my day release course and I went to counselling, I made trips too and from the hospital and I watered the plants and did anything I could to help.Then I went to work again.
The tiredness got worse and worse.
I slept on a mattress in the front room because the stairs had got too steep. The doctors did tests and muttered about M. E and fibromyalgia.
At the hospital I joined the services in the chapel and asked for prayers for him. And I put him on the prayer list in church and prayed at the afternoon prayer services made up of well-to-do ladies who never kept their voices down about me being 'odd' or 'handicapped'.
One day his wife rang me, she had been at the hospital since 5am when they had called her in, told her that he couldn't stop coughing blood and it was best that she came in now.
We sat there.
We sat and waited.
He stopped coughing blood.
He had blood all over his hospital pyjamas when he told me in a weak voice that he was OK and he was going to sleep now.
And he did.
He slept and then he started to recover, there was no more blood.
I saw a genuine miracle as he started to steadily recover.
'I sat by him at the hospital, there were times when he was grumpy and angry with me when he was recovering, I would go out to the church yard and cry, but his miracle recovery is something that will always be with me, as will the parking fees'.
You smile as I say that, and you murmer something about the hand of God on my shoulder.
How could I have forgotten, that man of such moral courage and firm unmovable convictions, a quietly selfless and inspirational man who was such an example to me?
(and he told me not to write about him too, tough cookies mate, you can't stop me!).
One day I went round to check if his wife needed anything and to water the plants, his wife answered the door 'Go round the back, there is someone there to see you!' she said, hardly able to contain her emotions.
So I did, and there he was, not long home and tending his plants.
Instead of the usual 'lifeline' of taking hold of my hands, which is what he and my other friends normally did because of my autism, he hugged me.
He was more tired than before the illness, but he did recover, even to drive his car again, and one day he drove me to the surgery and observed that my bag of prescription meds was bigger than his! I battled the metabolic illness that left me tired and in pain for a few years after that and it made work hard for me, and I left the estate and the tied cottage and moved on, but we kept in touch for years, and he still sent me silly text messages sometimes, jokes and things.
But the funniest memory, that I recounted to you and you looked astounded before laughing, was that time when the lady of the manor wouldn't stop talking about her favourite candidate for the local elections, this seemed to irritate my friend, and he took to sending me cheeky messages about the candidate, not rude of course, he was a gentleman, but he didn't share the lady of the manor's enthusiasm for this candidate.
We were working with some plants, and the lady of the manore was intervening in our greenhouses as she did sometimes, she was labelling young plants, then the bell on the house rang, meaning the phone was ringing and off she sashayed to answer it.
My friend looked at me, looked at the greenhouse, and grinned.
Into the greenhouse he sneaked, took the sophisticated label gun, and changed what the label printout would read so that it read the name of the election candidate who the lady of the manor was always raving about.
Then off we tiptoed to the other side of the wall, and fell about laughing, wondering how many plants she would label before she realised, and what she would make of it when she realised!
After that we only had to say that person's name and we would crack up laughing.
So, that is the story of me and my friend from before the darkness fell, an honest, honourable and moral man, who I always knew I was perfectly safe with because he wouldn't abuse or exploit anyone.
He was a rare character and I have only known one man that safe and moral, selfless and honourable since, another man who is now also lying in a hospital bed, but he never knew the me from before the darkness and the mad anger.
Because life circles and circles, and we relive the same things over and over.
Thank you for being there for me in this time of tears, today I smiled again because I remembered.
But behind the smears and lies and collaborations of the arrogant and comfortable of the Diocese of Winchester, there is another story, other stories, which would be too damaging to their hatred and judgementof me for them ever to let them be heard by the people they have taught to hate and shun me.
So we are sitting here and you are making sure I eat something and drink several hot drinks at last.
For the past weeks and especially the last few days, I haven't really known or cared about sleeping or eating or anything, I don't know what is going on in my own life, the neat lists, rotas, bill payments and other tidy and fastidious arrangements are all shattered, the little world of boxes that is the best soother for autism is all gone, and I no longer know anything, but you know I need food and drink, and just as you always have, you look after my welfare first and foremost.
As we sit, the memories bubble up, uncontainable, rich and sparkling and flowing, no rhyme or reason, and I smile for the first time in days of tears.
As you read this, remember that although it was at a time that I was struggling desparately after escaping the childhood from hell, I was part of the community, surrounded by friends and with a full life, not in any way like the desparate ruined and angry mess that I am now, back then was before the Diocese of Winchester destroyed me and took the friends that I mention by slander and interventions.
So I tell you what I remember and I smile after days of tears.
I tell you I have sat by too many hospital beds already. I tell you about Jonny in Southampton Neuro, making his miracle recovery and that day when J. said dryly 'Well he's well enough to tell his brother to shut up!'
Well it is one of the very best neurological units, what would you expect but miracles?
I remember all the hospitals, all the times I have sat by beds, but of course there is there is one that stands out, also a miracle recovery.
He was like no one I have ever met before, and I have only met one like him since, and the one I have met since is also having a break in hospital now.
He was a completely honest man who had no use for lies or deceit, he didn't want much and he didn't need people, but quietly and selflessly he worked for others, often unnoticed, he was usually polite to people face to face although he sometimes amused me by being honest to me about his feelings towards certain people, I felt honoured that he confided in me. The certain people he didn't approve of in our immediate community used alcohol and drugs and had other vices, and he had no time for them.
He had a sense of humour although he seemed so serious, and when I was going to meet him first time a certain person warned me to be careful not to upset him, so I was expecting an ogre but he was an angel.
I had to shadow him, learn from him, and although back then my mind wasn't focussed, it was a joy to work with him.
I remember when he became my friend, I had ordered a ton of gravel and was raking it into place and he came by, took a short cut through my garden as he did, and he didn't say a thing, just picked up the rake and started helping to distribute the gravel on the driveway.
He told me that I should come to tea some time, he and his wife would be pleased to see me.
I smile as I remember this because I know that made me very honoured. They didn't invite many people. They lived a simple, honest and lovely life and I really respected them.
One of my favourite stories that he always told me was when the Lord of the Manor came charging round in the range rover, and his wife opened the door, she peered out at him and said 'Oh, who are you?!' in a most dissaproving tone.
I would go to tea sometimes, not frequently but sometimes, to be friendly, they were such special people. Tea meant china cups of tea with a little bit of cake and biscuits. I was still young, so to me I wasn't quite sure of this ritual but time with them was special.
They lived simply as I said, honestly and without any pride or ego or boastfulness, indeed it took me a long time to actually realise what amazing people these were and what talent they hid.
I think the first of the surprises was when I found out that he was a believer and a churchgoer, although I never heard him mention God or call himself a Christian or even use the word. And I understand why, I really do. But another surprise was that his place in church was as organist, until his hands grew too shaky, and then in the choir.
He had left school aged 14 and had been a gardener all his life apart from his days in the navy, which he always mentioned with a slight smile, but he had taught himself music, entirely, and that wasn't his only talent.
He was an artist, and again, he was self, taught. in 'the other room' that they didn't use to sit in, but which had the piano and various jumble, the portraits he had drawn lined the walls, amazing and each with a story behind them.
What an incredible man.
And of course he was the best gardener I have ever met or ever will meet.
So he and his wife were my friends, it didn't matter that they were elderly, age is irrelevant to me, if decent human beings reach out in friendship to me, that is what matters to me. Often it is older people who have the maturity to understand my solitude battles more.
This lovely couple had no children or pets, they had their little house and the immaculate gardens, they kept themselves to themselves. And I consider myself to be very lucky to be someone who got to know them.
He had been showing plants and vegetables and flowers for more years than he cared to remember, and if I remember correctly, he had asked Fleet show to stop giving him the cup each year, was it the cost or getting it re-engraved or was it that he thought it was silly to get a cup? He never wanted his prize money or certificates. That was how he was.
But he took delight in teaching me to grow and tend plants, and more delight in taking me to shows and teaching me to show plants and compete against him.
I was already someone who competed in the show, but with floral art, under the watchful eye of Anne, I always will smile to remember her own teaching, where she got me and Fiona working on our floral art show entries, both working on our competing projects, there at the same table and under her eye.
But now it was time for me to move on to the serious stuff. The horticultural competitions.
It is funny, he had been competing for so long but he didn't know of the village show in my home village, and so I introduced him to it, the show where every year I spent days helping to set up for the show and then spent the show day and the Sunday killing myself trying to help with everything.
Not only did I introduce him to the show but also to Mike and Shirley, who he became fast friends with. I remember Shirley saying to me after meeting him that she thought 'I like you' when she met him. They used to pass messages through me sometimes, usually about show schedules and cup engravings, of course, that kind of thing, and would he like some of the newly made jam? or would they like some fresh cut flowers?
We started to transform the huge wild garden at my cottage into a real plot for vegetable and flower growing, and he didn't see much point in my tree felling project but he came and helped anyway. My cats loved him, and after openly being a cat hater all his life because cats are destructive to gardens, he grew fond of my cats and their antics and for a long time I had a photo of him holding the half-siamese cat in his arms. He seemed in awe of this cat because it was clever and he didn't realise a cat could think things through like that one did.
He used to laugh that he couldn't take a nap in the hammock that I had tied between the apple trees becase that cat of mine would be hiding in the tree and launch itself like a missile.
He taught me about dustbin parsnips, the very best for the show, of course the growing mix had to be just right. He showed me how make rings for show vegetables and he made me read my show handbook carefully and learn.
Then one week he wasn't at work, and I was surprised, he didn't text me or phone or call round to the cottage.
All I knew at the end of the week was that the lady of the house told me he was ill.
I went round to see if I could help. Because his wife was disabled since she slipped and hurt her leg badly, so I wanted to know if I could help, but he had already been admitted to hospital.
He was in for a while that time, and I watered the plants and gave his wife lifts to the hospital.
But for some reason they sent him home when he was still very ill.
I grew increasingly concerned, and one evening I asked for a break from shift to go and speak to the hospital. I was horrified by the callousness of the nurse I spoke to. Basically she was saying he was an old man and a waste of a bed and to let him die.
But next day he was re-admitted.
He was in a bad way now, and he slept, with the tubes draining and feeding him.
I was tired and I was in pain and I didn't know why.
I went to work and worked hard, I studied my day release course and I went to counselling, I made trips too and from the hospital and I watered the plants and did anything I could to help.Then I went to work again.
The tiredness got worse and worse.
I slept on a mattress in the front room because the stairs had got too steep. The doctors did tests and muttered about M. E and fibromyalgia.
At the hospital I joined the services in the chapel and asked for prayers for him. And I put him on the prayer list in church and prayed at the afternoon prayer services made up of well-to-do ladies who never kept their voices down about me being 'odd' or 'handicapped'.
One day his wife rang me, she had been at the hospital since 5am when they had called her in, told her that he couldn't stop coughing blood and it was best that she came in now.
We sat there.
We sat and waited.
He stopped coughing blood.
He had blood all over his hospital pyjamas when he told me in a weak voice that he was OK and he was going to sleep now.
And he did.
He slept and then he started to recover, there was no more blood.
I saw a genuine miracle as he started to steadily recover.
'I sat by him at the hospital, there were times when he was grumpy and angry with me when he was recovering, I would go out to the church yard and cry, but his miracle recovery is something that will always be with me, as will the parking fees'.
You smile as I say that, and you murmer something about the hand of God on my shoulder.
How could I have forgotten, that man of such moral courage and firm unmovable convictions, a quietly selfless and inspirational man who was such an example to me?
(and he told me not to write about him too, tough cookies mate, you can't stop me!).
One day I went round to check if his wife needed anything and to water the plants, his wife answered the door 'Go round the back, there is someone there to see you!' she said, hardly able to contain her emotions.
So I did, and there he was, not long home and tending his plants.
Instead of the usual 'lifeline' of taking hold of my hands, which is what he and my other friends normally did because of my autism, he hugged me.
He was more tired than before the illness, but he did recover, even to drive his car again, and one day he drove me to the surgery and observed that my bag of prescription meds was bigger than his! I battled the metabolic illness that left me tired and in pain for a few years after that and it made work hard for me, and I left the estate and the tied cottage and moved on, but we kept in touch for years, and he still sent me silly text messages sometimes, jokes and things.
But the funniest memory, that I recounted to you and you looked astounded before laughing, was that time when the lady of the manor wouldn't stop talking about her favourite candidate for the local elections, this seemed to irritate my friend, and he took to sending me cheeky messages about the candidate, not rude of course, he was a gentleman, but he didn't share the lady of the manor's enthusiasm for this candidate.
We were working with some plants, and the lady of the manore was intervening in our greenhouses as she did sometimes, she was labelling young plants, then the bell on the house rang, meaning the phone was ringing and off she sashayed to answer it.
My friend looked at me, looked at the greenhouse, and grinned.
Into the greenhouse he sneaked, took the sophisticated label gun, and changed what the label printout would read so that it read the name of the election candidate who the lady of the manor was always raving about.
Then off we tiptoed to the other side of the wall, and fell about laughing, wondering how many plants she would label before she realised, and what she would make of it when she realised!
After that we only had to say that person's name and we would crack up laughing.
So, that is the story of me and my friend from before the darkness fell, an honest, honourable and moral man, who I always knew I was perfectly safe with because he wouldn't abuse or exploit anyone.
He was a rare character and I have only known one man that safe and moral, selfless and honourable since, another man who is now also lying in a hospital bed, but he never knew the me from before the darkness and the mad anger.
Because life circles and circles, and we relive the same things over and over.
Thank you for being there for me in this time of tears, today I smiled again because I remembered.
Monday, 16 November 2015
Dear Jersey
Dear Jersey,
Regarding Bob Hill.
Regarding Bob Hill.
I redact what I said last week, it was said in fury as he was rubbing raw wounds. I apologise.
Bob
Hill should have been enjoying his retirement. He shouldn't have been
trying to put right the wrongs of the church or the authorities in
Jersey.
The UK government should be intervening in Jersey
and putting the henious corruption and safeguarding failures right, not
leaving it to a retired man who has a disabled wife to look after.
But
apparently instead, the UK government are allowing Jersey dignitaries
to intervene in the UK care inquiry, which is henious. I am sure the
Jersey care inquiry have been briefed on this as well as how to let the
Jersey dignitaries off the hook.
The States of Jersey
are responsible for providing safeguarding and witness support and
justice and safety for the vulnerable and abuse survivors, and they
don't, so Bob spent his retirement on helping people who were suffering,
and the States did nothing. Bob's wife is disabled and Bob worked hard
all his life. Why was he the only one standing up for me and for others,
when the States have used the press and media to hurt me and other
victims? What exactly are the safeguarding board there for? Well I
gather they are there to protect abusers, the same as Jersey police are,
but things need to change. it shouldn't cost the life of innocent
people for things to change.
Why did Bob get taken
ill? well for two and a half years, rightly or wrongly, he has caused
himself and me stress by taking on my case when my case was set up to
exonorate the people who have harmed me and lay all the blame on me. The
desparation by the States in their use of the press and media to smear
me once again recently shows that something went wrong with what the
church had planned with their whitewash conflicted Korris smear report
followed by the tandem steel and jersey unsafeguarding smears set up and
overseen by Gull and Johnstone in liason with the abuser Jane Fisher.
Bob's
interventions couldn't change the fact that the whole case had been
mapped out and planned to exclude me and eventually have me imprisoned
and destroyed again, that remains the case and for me it has been a long
two and half year wait, with complete puzzlement at the desparation of
the Jersey Deanery, to the point that they spent a thousand pounds of
tax payer's money when Jersey's economy is in a shocking state, just to
try to get the conflicted Steel report released.
and Jersey safeguarding partnership stood and watched, and didn't see what the problem was.
So,
having failed, the Jersey Deanery and associated states members
attacked in the press and media again, abusing their power and
misleading people while the 'safeguarding' partnership who's Stuart Gull
had illegally acted with regard my case, looked on again and ignored my
complaints to them.
Bob Hill, having been asked by me
over and over again not to waste his retirement on my case when it was a
set up and all he was doing was prolonging and worsening the anguish,
launched into the media with his latest blog and on BBC Jersey, despite
me having banned this.
It was the last thing he did, and the last thing I did in response was attack him and call him names.
And
I will have to live with that, and on top of everything else I can't
live with, this is a last straw, I can't recover physically or mentally
from the latest onslaught and it shouldn't have cost Bob Hill his life.
If he recovers, someone else, someone who he listens to, needs to make sure he rests and enjoys his time with his family.
He
can't do any more for me, I am already ruined, defamed, publicly
smeared and lied about and discredited, with the active help of Jersey
police and safeguarding board. I am done for, but my death is slow and
agonizing and drags on year after year. There has been no justice, no
arrangement for my side to be heard and investigated, and even Bob never
met with me and heard me, and instead used the Korris smear report as a
guide and anguished me. He shouldn't even have had to, the Korris
report was illegal and had no right to be published and Bob and Neil,
even meaning well, have left me sick with distress in repeatedly
reproducing parts of it as if it were fact, which is one of the reasons I
raged at him, he couldn't see how much he was hurting and humiliating
me.
If I could trade places with Bob, so that he could
be well and happy and with his family at home, while I, the branded
hated worthless one, could be finished and out of my misery, then I
would trade, right here and now.
I may be responsible
for Bob's situation because he shouldn't and couldn't go on carrying me,
and the other survivors while Jersey failed them. But Jersey's
safeguarding board and social services and States are also responsible,
for leaving him to carry us, indeed worsening the situation with their
illegal part in the cover-ups, when Bob should have been enjoying
retirement. And now that he has gone, who is left of the human rights
activists in Jersey? Who is left who hasn't been ruined for fighting for
justice and human rights, who is left who isn't fearful for their own
safety for speaking up? Not many.
Jersey is getting worse,
the actions of the Bailhache brothers and their servants Gorst and the
Governor regarding my case recently have been so blatant and open, even
spending a thousand pounds of tax payers money openly and withour fear
of account, while Bailhahce tried to close the care inquiry due to cost!
Why would a man who wants to deny a voice to hundreds of victims be
demanding an 'abuse report' to be released?
Hypocrite.
The
recent safeguarding failure serious case review led to the usual
'lessons will be learned (but not in our time)' lines being trotted out.
So when will lessons be learned? When a few more lives are lost? Or
never?
Bob shouldn't have been in a position where he
was the only person defending me and I was out of my mind and furious
that he was still acting in my case without consent, I know I said
terrible things but why is Jersey safeguarding partnership allowing me
to be driven to the end of my tether? Why have they left Bob Hill
safeguarding me against a paedophile protector and a bunch of equally
corrupt and dishonest States-Church members? Why hasn't Jersey learned
anything from the embarrassment of being international news in 2008
because of abuse and the failure of the States, judiciary and social
services? Why are they standing by while the same States members who
failed those children are killing me, have left Bob in a critical
condition?!
Bob refused to stop acting in my case and
others, no matter what abuse I hurled, no matter how upset I was, and he
has a disabled wife to look after, and the safeguarding board and
police not only let my case go on in this terrible way, they left Bob
struggling with it while they were complicit in allowing and aiding the
corrupt states-church members!
How much is a human life worth to the Jersey authorities?
Well, it depends on who you are, doesn't it?!
If
Bob makes any recovery, I sincerely hope that he will listen to his
family and not return to the fight for human rights, for his own sake.
But now with Bob not defending my case, what are safeguarding going to
do? Aid the police and church in finishing me off with the whitewash set
up reports on Jane Fisher and the Deanery of Jersey's behalf?
Presumably, yes, because no one oversees Jersey police and safeguarding,
they are a corrupt, ineffective law unto themselves, that is why a good
man has wasted his retirement doing their job for them and is in
critical condition in hospital.
I will never forgive myself.
I
intended to redact that furious email calling Bob an abuser for
launching into the press and media without warning again when I have
told him repeatedly not to, I also, while I have been ill in bed, taped
my concerns about Bob and Neil representing my case without warning or
consent and had it transcripted yesterday to send to them. Too late. Bob
isn't a bad man, or an abuser, I am sorry I said he was, but he did
leave me screaming with anguish over the way he represented my case,
because he wasn't listening to me, wasn't warning me when he was going
to release things or checking with me for accuracy.
I
go mad because I have suffered more than anyone can live with. Now I
have to live with the fact that the last thing Bob did before being
taken ill was try to represent me when blatant lies about me and my case
were being read out, and the last thing I did was call him names and
scream at him to leave my case alone.
Are the care
inquiry really going to leave Jersey knowing that they are leaving an
island that is in such a desparate state that men like Bob Hill have to
give their lives to try and change things because those in authority are
active in keeping the bad, dark, abusive and corrupt practices in
place? Are the care inquiry really going to leave Jersey knowing that
they and the authorities were told over and over again about the
situation with the Bailhache brothers, the Dean, the States, are they
really going to leave and not see that things change in Jersey? It is
looking that way and Bob gave his life and time to make sure there was a
care inquiry, and he gave his testimony and I and others think that the
way he was interviewed by the inquiry was dissapointing.
And
then they won't even interview me, and I have experience of how bad the
systems in Jersey are, as well as having witnessed active protection of
paedophiles.
The last straws are raining down, and
presumably the people attacking me and trying to force the release of
their whitewash reports will have no respect for Bob and no regard for
his or my welfare and will now press on with their attacks relentless,
with the safeguarding joke board eager to assist them.
What
kind of State is Jersey, to allow a paedophile protector to openly
attack a vulnerable adult he has never met and use the press and media
to do so, while a retired man uses his retirement to try to defend her?
Are the care inquiry really going to turn their backs and claim
that this is not in their remit. If they do, then the same Paedophile
protector was right when he said they were not worth the tax payer's
money.
HG
Sunday, 15 November 2015
Bob Hill, an honest man
Re-posted:
Bob Hill has been mentioned in a previous post about what happened in November.
I guess I want to balance that negative post. I had to post it because what happened in November was awful, and no-one knew my side of it.
Bob is a good, honest, caring man, he fights for social justice in Jersey, the only problem being that he and Mike Higgins haven't quite got the hang of getting permission to make representations and referrals of people, which is really important, examples being that Bob and Julie and Christine Daly went behind my back to make arrangements and that collided disasterously with the Diocese doing the same, with the end result of me being very hurt and angry and no help at all being arranged; and also Mike Higgins repeatedly causing me pain by bringing my case up in the States and meeting cover ups, untruths and libels of me which I was unprepared for.
Bob got his BEM because of his work with vulnerable people, and he continued the good work when he returned to Jersey after leaving the MET police and becoming a deputy in the States of Jersey, he has been a voice for numerous vulnerable people in Jersey, and if only I had known him while I was in Jersey, he might have prevented what happened in the end.
Problems with Bob trying to represent me included the sheer disstance, basically we needed to talk face to face and hardly got a chance to, and with me being on the streets, skype was not a viable option most of the time, we tried skype but the signal would go, even when I had somewhere safe to skype.
Another problem was, it was a big and complex case, made worse by the untruths spread by the Jersey Deanery about my past, so that I spent a huge amount of time trying to explain myself about that and never overcame the blank trauma enough to tell Bob my story in Jersey, and Bob chose to believe the Korris report over my story, and repeatedly told me that my side of what happened with the police didn't, sadly my police records, already distorted by incorrect police recording, were open to abuse by wrongdoers involved, but I told Bob the truth and there would be no point in my lying, but he couldn't accept my side.
Bob's involvement of Julie in confidential matters and as if he worked inseparably with her on my case, without my consent, and apparently with Gladwin and Daly's influence, meant I felt demoralised and as Julie insinuated I was in the wrong in Jersey, I realised I was betrayed. But Bob didn't see fit to apologise and instead, blamed me.
Bob's blogs are very good, but as well as traumatising me, they are not entirely accurate and tend to give his view, what he has heard and read, and debates with other people such as the Home Affairs Minister who is a reader in the church in Jersey, and a friend of the Churchwarden's, according to the Churchwarden. So how could his answers be accurate.
Bob, without any doubt whatsoever, wanted something done about the injustice, he wanted people to be accountable and he wanted what was best for me.
Sadly the obstacles he faced included the case being so complex that he regularly forgot or omitted facts I told him, he sent information to Gladwin and Daly that would not be helpful and he had not been asked to send, he was also, and most importantly, up against super-powerful members of church/state/judiciary/church, who are apparently infallible, invincible and able to get away with pretty much anything they like, as well as being able to get people like the Dean let off without question.
I believe Bob worked very very hard to try and help me, and he took a lot of flak trying to defend me, and I am very grateful to him, I was badly represented by the Korris report and then smeared by the Jersey Deanery while the Diocese stood by like a leaderless and frightened flock, not knowing where to turn and certainly not supporting me. I took some of that nasty flak and libel and slander directly, Bob didn't divert it all, and it has wounded me that people who do not know me, and never met me were self-righteously judging me and condemning me even on church websites such as 'clerical whispers' and 'Thinking Anglicans' (now there's an oxymoron).
Bob, with his firm stand on my side, was a pillar of strength and hope, while we waited for the Church of England to make good the damage they did, sadly they let us down, but Bob's efforts were great, it is just a tremendous pity that he could not take my full story, face to face, and the poor man didn't really really understand me himself.
In the beginning, he told me he didn't understand mental health, he wasn't medically trained, it took a long time and lots of information and my psychological report for him to understand, hopefully, that I was not 'seriously mentally ill' as such, but that autism combined with very severe trauma and psychological harm from my background is what lead to me going mad under the terrible pressure I was under in Jersey from the backlash when I was still in a very bad way from being regressed and abused in Jersey.
The fact I was left regressed and childlike after parting company with the abusive churchwarden played a big part in things, and is omitted from Korris, but being regressed and abused and facing the backlash was simply too much for me after my background of severe violence and trauma, this, in a small community like Jersey, a complaint against a well-connected churchwarden. I was treated very bad. And so called 'Christians' on websites and in the Church, who have judged and condemned me publicly and to Bob, should be ashamed of themselves, shouyld try going through what I went through with the conditions I have, and see if they do any better.
Bob has put in hundreds of hours of epic work in trying to help and defend me, but the distance and the fact he needed the full story and couldn't get it, didn't help.
Bob's blogs are admirable in that he is very honest and balanced and set a good example to me, he set a good example in manners, honesty and courtesy, which actually encouraged me to try to be the same, notably in my dealings with the diocese, Bob's way of being polite and understating things, as he frequently does, led to me sometimes doing the same, although not always, because I am me, and I am angry about how I have been treated. But although my letter to the Jersey Deanery was all my own work -well, actually I asked the Holy Spirit to show me what to write, I did base my style of writing on Bob's.
Bob deserves a medal, so it is hardly surprising that he has one.
(I once tried to nominate Philip LeClaire for a MBE medal for his similar great work, but was quite puzzlingly shunned and treated quite rudely by other people who I asked to support that nomination, which remains a raw mystery to this day).
Julie described Bob as pragmatic, and said it was a good thing he was because she and I weren't. I am not sure what the word means, I think it is unemotional and stable and calm.
Bob is very calm and did not seem to understand when he calmly told me terrible and worrying and traumatic things, that I could not be calm, because the trauma I had suffered and was suffering, was too much for me, Bob not being on the receiving end of the Korris, Gladwin and Steel reports did not seem to grasp how injurious these reports could be to a vulnerable and struggling life, especially as the Korris report did me so much harm, and the Steel report was to destroy me on behalf of the Deanery, and the Diocese were refusing to stop it.
Bob is a lovely kind man, very solemn and serious though, one of the main things that helps me to communicate is humour, and Bob was very much a policeman, politician, he couldn't work with me through humour as notable others have and do, but Bob is one of the most genuine, kind and altruistic people I have ever met, and I have met a few.
The November issues and their lack of resolution meant that I couldn't trust Bob, because the level of damage done meant that I could not risk that happening again and could not risk letting Bob involve other people and cause more disasters. His comments about me not having many friends and not trusting people infuriated me, he does not understand that until the reactive attachment disorder is treated effectively, I have to keep people at arm's length or I hurt them, that is a horrible reality, only people who can not get emotionally involved and can trust me to look after myself, and can stay calm if I get upset, can stay alongside me now, sad as that is. And as for trust, it goes without saying, I can't not have a trust problem after everything that has happened, and Bob needling about it does not help.
Bob is a good man, credit to him for every single thing that he has done for me and for others, including the fact that he looks after his lovely wife when she is not well.
God bless him.
Bob Hill has been mentioned in a previous post about what happened in November.
I guess I want to balance that negative post. I had to post it because what happened in November was awful, and no-one knew my side of it.
Bob is a good, honest, caring man, he fights for social justice in Jersey, the only problem being that he and Mike Higgins haven't quite got the hang of getting permission to make representations and referrals of people, which is really important, examples being that Bob and Julie and Christine Daly went behind my back to make arrangements and that collided disasterously with the Diocese doing the same, with the end result of me being very hurt and angry and no help at all being arranged; and also Mike Higgins repeatedly causing me pain by bringing my case up in the States and meeting cover ups, untruths and libels of me which I was unprepared for.
Bob got his BEM because of his work with vulnerable people, and he continued the good work when he returned to Jersey after leaving the MET police and becoming a deputy in the States of Jersey, he has been a voice for numerous vulnerable people in Jersey, and if only I had known him while I was in Jersey, he might have prevented what happened in the end.
Problems with Bob trying to represent me included the sheer disstance, basically we needed to talk face to face and hardly got a chance to, and with me being on the streets, skype was not a viable option most of the time, we tried skype but the signal would go, even when I had somewhere safe to skype.
Another problem was, it was a big and complex case, made worse by the untruths spread by the Jersey Deanery about my past, so that I spent a huge amount of time trying to explain myself about that and never overcame the blank trauma enough to tell Bob my story in Jersey, and Bob chose to believe the Korris report over my story, and repeatedly told me that my side of what happened with the police didn't, sadly my police records, already distorted by incorrect police recording, were open to abuse by wrongdoers involved, but I told Bob the truth and there would be no point in my lying, but he couldn't accept my side.
Bob's involvement of Julie in confidential matters and as if he worked inseparably with her on my case, without my consent, and apparently with Gladwin and Daly's influence, meant I felt demoralised and as Julie insinuated I was in the wrong in Jersey, I realised I was betrayed. But Bob didn't see fit to apologise and instead, blamed me.
Bob's blogs are very good, but as well as traumatising me, they are not entirely accurate and tend to give his view, what he has heard and read, and debates with other people such as the Home Affairs Minister who is a reader in the church in Jersey, and a friend of the Churchwarden's, according to the Churchwarden. So how could his answers be accurate.
Bob, without any doubt whatsoever, wanted something done about the injustice, he wanted people to be accountable and he wanted what was best for me.
Sadly the obstacles he faced included the case being so complex that he regularly forgot or omitted facts I told him, he sent information to Gladwin and Daly that would not be helpful and he had not been asked to send, he was also, and most importantly, up against super-powerful members of church/state/judiciary/church, who are apparently infallible, invincible and able to get away with pretty much anything they like, as well as being able to get people like the Dean let off without question.
I believe Bob worked very very hard to try and help me, and he took a lot of flak trying to defend me, and I am very grateful to him, I was badly represented by the Korris report and then smeared by the Jersey Deanery while the Diocese stood by like a leaderless and frightened flock, not knowing where to turn and certainly not supporting me. I took some of that nasty flak and libel and slander directly, Bob didn't divert it all, and it has wounded me that people who do not know me, and never met me were self-righteously judging me and condemning me even on church websites such as 'clerical whispers' and 'Thinking Anglicans' (now there's an oxymoron).
Bob, with his firm stand on my side, was a pillar of strength and hope, while we waited for the Church of England to make good the damage they did, sadly they let us down, but Bob's efforts were great, it is just a tremendous pity that he could not take my full story, face to face, and the poor man didn't really really understand me himself.
In the beginning, he told me he didn't understand mental health, he wasn't medically trained, it took a long time and lots of information and my psychological report for him to understand, hopefully, that I was not 'seriously mentally ill' as such, but that autism combined with very severe trauma and psychological harm from my background is what lead to me going mad under the terrible pressure I was under in Jersey from the backlash when I was still in a very bad way from being regressed and abused in Jersey.
The fact I was left regressed and childlike after parting company with the abusive churchwarden played a big part in things, and is omitted from Korris, but being regressed and abused and facing the backlash was simply too much for me after my background of severe violence and trauma, this, in a small community like Jersey, a complaint against a well-connected churchwarden. I was treated very bad. And so called 'Christians' on websites and in the Church, who have judged and condemned me publicly and to Bob, should be ashamed of themselves, shouyld try going through what I went through with the conditions I have, and see if they do any better.
Bob has put in hundreds of hours of epic work in trying to help and defend me, but the distance and the fact he needed the full story and couldn't get it, didn't help.
Bob's blogs are admirable in that he is very honest and balanced and set a good example to me, he set a good example in manners, honesty and courtesy, which actually encouraged me to try to be the same, notably in my dealings with the diocese, Bob's way of being polite and understating things, as he frequently does, led to me sometimes doing the same, although not always, because I am me, and I am angry about how I have been treated. But although my letter to the Jersey Deanery was all my own work -well, actually I asked the Holy Spirit to show me what to write, I did base my style of writing on Bob's.
Bob deserves a medal, so it is hardly surprising that he has one.
(I once tried to nominate Philip LeClaire for a MBE medal for his similar great work, but was quite puzzlingly shunned and treated quite rudely by other people who I asked to support that nomination, which remains a raw mystery to this day).
Julie described Bob as pragmatic, and said it was a good thing he was because she and I weren't. I am not sure what the word means, I think it is unemotional and stable and calm.
Bob is very calm and did not seem to understand when he calmly told me terrible and worrying and traumatic things, that I could not be calm, because the trauma I had suffered and was suffering, was too much for me, Bob not being on the receiving end of the Korris, Gladwin and Steel reports did not seem to grasp how injurious these reports could be to a vulnerable and struggling life, especially as the Korris report did me so much harm, and the Steel report was to destroy me on behalf of the Deanery, and the Diocese were refusing to stop it.
Bob is a lovely kind man, very solemn and serious though, one of the main things that helps me to communicate is humour, and Bob was very much a policeman, politician, he couldn't work with me through humour as notable others have and do, but Bob is one of the most genuine, kind and altruistic people I have ever met, and I have met a few.
The November issues and their lack of resolution meant that I couldn't trust Bob, because the level of damage done meant that I could not risk that happening again and could not risk letting Bob involve other people and cause more disasters. His comments about me not having many friends and not trusting people infuriated me, he does not understand that until the reactive attachment disorder is treated effectively, I have to keep people at arm's length or I hurt them, that is a horrible reality, only people who can not get emotionally involved and can trust me to look after myself, and can stay calm if I get upset, can stay alongside me now, sad as that is. And as for trust, it goes without saying, I can't not have a trust problem after everything that has happened, and Bob needling about it does not help.
Bob is a good man, credit to him for every single thing that he has done for me and for others, including the fact that he looks after his lovely wife when she is not well.
God bless him.
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