21st Century Prejudice

Picture of Pam and Len Watkins with their restored Reading Wagon

by Laurie Kinsley

Racial prejudice is alive, well and kicking in the UK. Whilst it is unlawful to discriminate against a person on the grounds of race, colour, nationality, citizenship or ethnic origins (Race Relations Act 1976) it seems that discrimination against the Travelling Community is not covered by this law. In fact, it seems to be encouraged. During his speech to the Conservative Party Conference this week, Eric Pickles MP for Brentwood and Ongar  launched his latest policy to “stop caravans in their tracks”. He confirmed that Councils would have new powers to eject Travellers from private sites before they settled, promising that “Never again would local authorities have to spend a fortune in time and money enforcing planning laws against the Traveller Community”.

Look at this statement from a different perspective. 

"Communities’ secretary Eric Pickles chose the Conservative Party Conference on Monday to launch his latest policy to “stop caravans in their tracks”. The announcement was Pickles’ response to last year’s Dale Farm confrontation, where Basildon council completed decade-long proceedings to evict Jews occupying pitches without planning consent. Never again, he promised, would local authorities have to spend a fortune in time and money enforcing planning law against the Jewish community."

If this is what he had declared there would be a public outcry. And what about these headlines?

Essex Jews facing eviction threaten 'Big Fat Jew War' on the authorities

Bill for evicting just 90 Jewish families from UK’s biggest illegal site could face £18m

So why are the Travelling Community not protected under the Race Relations Act? The problem stems from Society’s refusal to accept or believe that Travellers are an ethnic minority, despite the fact that case law established Gypsies as a recognised ethnic group in 1989 and Irish Travellers as a distinct ethnic group in 2000 in England and Wales. Throughout history, they have been regarded as trouble, as dirty, as scroungers, (all of which are untrue) but it seems incredible to me that in the 21st century these labels still apply. Sure, they have their share of trouble makers and scroungers - in common with every area of society, from the bankers at the top to the unemployed at the bottom. But isn’t that just tarring them all with the same brush? That sort of logic could implicate the whole of the British Army for atrocities to prisoners or the whole of the Irish nation for the death of Lord Mountbatten.

In his Conference Speech, David Cameron talked about spreading privilege ( a bad choice of word, surely he meant opportunity, but what can you expect from a privileged Eton educated man?). I wonder whether he factored the Travelling Community into this vision of Britain. It is very unlikely - surely he would not stand by and let Eric Pickles go ahead with his new policy if he had. 

There are changes afoot to the planning laws in the UK too. Laws will be relaxed for those fortunate enough to be able to afford to build an extension on their home or even build a new house in an effort to kick-start the economy. Will the Travellers benefit from this?  I think not. The NIMBYs will protest against any plans to increase the number of sites that are needed to house this ethnic group, the planning applications will continue to be rejected and racial equality will continue to be flouted.

Examples of racial prejudice against Travellers in the 21st Century

Picture from www.bbc.co.uk/kent/voices/prejudice

Picture from www.bbc.co.uk/kent/voices/prejudice

The Ravages of Time

Diana Morrison c1983

I came across this old photograph of myself the other day and it made me feel sad.

Ageing is such a cruel process. It creeps up on you stealthily and without mercy. One minute you're fresh faced with glossy abundant hair, flawless skin and a firm, healthy body and then one day you glance in a mirror and scarcely recognise your reflection. The lines around the eyes and mouth begin to appear, very subtly at first. The chin replicates itself like some cancerous cell. Hair loses its shine and colour and becomes finer and more brittle. As for the body - the waistline thickens and bits slowly begin to head south. Niggles of pain soon begin to make themselves apparent, joints begin to click and become less supple and energy levels become depleted more quickly. 

My poor mother never believed herself to be intelligent (she was, of course,) and her looks were everything to her. She was a very attractive woman but began to panic when she hit forty. The amount of money that she would spend on cosmetics and anti-wrinkle creams was outrageous. She became such a slave to maintaining her young, beautiful self that it became an obsession to her. In addition to the cosmetics, she would punish her body with a Jane Fonda work-out for an hour every day, and scarcely eat. We will never be sure whether this worked for her. She did lose a lot of weight, but she also had cancer, and may have had for a couple of years before it was diagnosed. She died at the age of 46, and the only consolation to that was that she never had to grow old. I would give a lot to see how she would look now, as it comes up to what would have been her 69th birthday.

I too, was proud of my looks and do understand what drives people to retain theirs for as long as possible, but I learnt from my mother that you cannot halt the ravages of time and the best thing to do is accept it with good grace.  Whilst there is no need to let yourself go altogether, there is also no need to work so hard that the fun goes out of life because you are constantly thinking about how you look. We all accept that our minds, ideas and outlook on life change as we get older, so why can't we accept that our bodies will do the same thing? 

Having said all this, it's time for me to go for my monthly eye-brow and lip wax!

Diana Morrison (with my beautiful grandaughter) 2012

Another Story

Sidney Harris and Edith Hind C1937

I've just posted another story, Final Confession, on my fiction pages. I wrote it back in May. It's not one of my best - but see what you think.

The picture is a photograph of my grandparents. The story is not based on theirs.

What a Farce

Photo - guardian.co.uk

 I hadn't watched the X-Factor since Matt Cardle won it in 2010 and I can't say I have missed it. However, last Sunday evening, my Facebook news feed went berserk - lots of my friends were talking about something called Rylan (mostly in derogatory terms) and I was intrigued. I was informed that Rylan was a contestant on X-Factor this year and that he (I established then that it was a he) was a bit of a diva and he had made it as far as the judges' houses. My curiosity grew, so I had a look on YouTube and discovered what all the fuss was about - yes, that pathetic, completely hammed up reaction to the news that he had made it to the live shows - obviously as the novelty act!

So last night, I thought I'd check out the results show, just to see whether things had improved since Simon Cowell's day. I was strangely gratified to see that Rylan was in the bottom two - (I had no idea how he had performed or whether he has any talent as a singer, having not watched the programme on Saturday.) It was as I feared - he was dire! The judge's would get rid of him there and then. The other contestant completely outclassed him! But no, in true X-Factor style, Louis Walsh took the vote to deadlock and  because of the public vote, this joke of a man went through. It was odd, Louis Walsh had stated first of all that he wanted to keep the woman singer (can't remember her name) but he was all of a dither, (I thought he was going to have a nervous breakdown, surely it's time he bowed out and left an opening for someone who is fit to do the job he's being paid for) and retracted what he had previously said.

I have finally come to realise that the X-Factor is not a talent show, it is just an ITV light entertainment show, that seemingly has nothing to do with discovering new stars. It's strange how you don't hear from many of the winners a few years after their triumph - anyone remember Leon? It's almost better not to win  (JLS and One Direction, being the most notable non-winners. Not that I like them either!) Better still though, not to enter. If you have a talent and are prepared to work hard to realise your dream, you have more chance of making it and emerging with some kind of (possibly battle-scarred) personality, with the added satisfaction of knowing that you did it your way.

I have finally been weaned off X-Factor for good and I really don't give a toss whether Rylan makes it or not.

The Downside to Being a Cat's Pet!

Mews

Photo by Diana Morrison 07-06-12

Help! Help! There's a riot going on downstairs! 

There is a pitiful squeaking, much growling and unsheathing of claws and feathers strewn all over my kitchen! I'm a prisoner in my own room!

Intrigued? (It's not that exciting.) Three of my four cats are squabbling over a bird that is, unfortunately still alive. I'm guessing from his possessive growling, that Mews caught it (his first successful hunt, other than a few hapless spiders, flies and moths,) and was going to give it to me as a present. I'm guessing also, that he was intercepted by matriarch, Kismet and her very vocal daughter, Mackerel on his way in - and now there is a stand-off!

I'm a bit concerned for Mews, he is such a softy and generally backs down if there is a confrontation - Kismet and Mackerel are much more streetwise, being semi-feral - I hope they don't hurt him - and whilst I don't really want his gift laid at my feet, I can't help but feel sorry for him if they do take it off him. I expect he was feeling quite proud of himself until they stole his thunder. So, why don't I go and sort it out, I hear you asking?

Kismet

Photo by Diana Morrison 17-09-12

Well, to tell you the truth, I'm scared; scared of birds, scared of mice, rats, snakes (although there are none in Ireland!), spiders - you name it and I'm scared of it! If it were dead, there'd be no problem. I'd be able to scoop it up with a shovel and and throw it outside so that none of them could have it, but being such a coward, I am now condemned to sit, barricaded in my room and wait it out - and yes I know that it is horrible for the bird and I do feel guilty for its suffering but there is little I can do about it. 

Mackerel

Photo by Diana Morrison 09-11-11

Oh! It's gone quiet now and Mews has just left the building. I'll just creep down and see what is happening. ... 

*Update* - All three cats have disappeared, the bird has breathed its last, at least I hope so, I'm not brave enough to get up close to it yet, in case it makes a sudden move and gives me a heart attack and the kitchen is in chaos. I have shut the door so they can't get back in for a while and now I face the gruesome big clean up. 

Cats will be cats, and I love mine dearly, but it's times like this that I wish they hadn't chosen me as their pet!

An Unashamedly Over-Protective Parent

I can only imagine the distress that April's parents must be suffering at this awful time; the uncertainty, fears of the worst and, I would imagine, a huge amount of self blame; those inevitable what-ifs and if-onlys. My heart goes out to the them.

What has happened to April is every parent's worst nightmare. My son is fourteen and he cannot understand why I won't let him hitch home from friends' houses and insist that he sends regular texts when he is away for a night. He is even more baffled by my refusal to let him go, with a seventeen year old school friend, to an Enter Shikari gig in London (bearing in mind we live in Ireland!) later this year. "I'll be fine," he says. "My friend is seventeen," he says. "Nothing is going to happen to me." And he might be right, but I'm not prepared to take that risk. 

I have always been unashamedly over-protective of him. Whilst I like to think that humankind is on the whole, decent, kind-hearted and civilised, the abduction of April and all those before her only serve to reinforce my convictions that things CAN and DO happen to vulnerable children and teenagers (who think they are older and more mature than they really are).

I do remember what it is like to be a teenager, and although very rare in my day, children were still abducted (I was the same age as Genette Tate when she was abducted in 1978. I also had a regular newspaper delivery round.) But, like my son, I just didn't think about it. It was something I'd heard on the television but it didn't have much impact on me. I also remember not understanding my mother's furious reaction when I arrived home at midnight, having been off on a treasure hunt with a friend's family without informing her of where I was going, when I was about 15. It did not occur to me, that she might have been worried. I feel very sorry for what I put her through now and I know that one day, my son will understand too.

In the meantime, I will continue to neurotically over-protect my boy until such times that I feel happy he is able to protect himself - even then, I expect I'll find it difficult to loosen the reins.

Let us all hope and pray that poor little April Jones is found alive and well very soon.

The Dying Season

Photo by Diana Morrison 31-10-11

Autumn seems to be creeping in slowly this year. We have had more sunshine and warmth over the past couple of weeks than we had all summer. The leaves are still firmly attached to the trees, although they are beginning to change colour, and the temperatures are continuing to hold. 

It is a strange season for me, one of melancholy and impending bereavement; invoking memories that are not knowingly mine of families in their wagons and bender tents striving to keep warm and find food and work, as the harvest season was drawing to a close. Of babies and elderly folk struggling with, now curable, diseases and fevers, their relatives wondering how many would survive to see the spring. When I lived in the UK, the bonfires, now firmly associated with Guy Fawkes, would epitomise the firing of a deceased person's vardo, as was the custom of the Romany people after a death and the sadness would remain until the spring, with its hope and promise of new life.

 I find it extremely depressing that in modern day Ireland, there are still people who will be wondering how they are going to stay warm and whether there will be work for them throughout the unforgiving days of the approaching winter. Will they be able to feed and clothe their children? Will they be able to care for their elderly relatives? Unfortunately, the return of spring, will not make much of a difference to them.

Hibernation time for me, I think!