0845: On my way into work, having been called in for a 12 hour shift - my phone rang literally two minutes after I'd woken up, so I was a bit bleary, to say the least. In all honesty, I still feel half asleep now, even after a shower and walk to the station.
Something I heard on the radio news at 8:00 did make an impression on my befogged mind, though - a report has found that the number of children in the UK allowed to play outside without supervision has fallen drastically in the past 30 or 40 years. 'Over-protective parents' are blamed, but what about the sensationalist reporting of the undoubtedly sad, but very rare cases where children have been abducted and abused, but which has convinced parents that there's a 'paedo' on every street corner? The media have, as is often the case, much to answer for.
1140: That picture. I spent a good 20 minutes last night just gazing at it, not upset or elated, just lost in a web of memory and beauty. And it's not even a picture of the boy himself, just a lookalike, albeit a close match. Was it love, or just superficial infatuation? I'd like to think it's the former, given the avalanche of consequences that have ensued, the first tremor on that late summer day almost six years ago, when I first saw him, helping his family take their boat down to the river. I thought they were just tourists, it wasn't until the school term started a week or so later that I realised that he lived locally, as he walked past my workplace with his mother and sister on the way to the local primary school, a pretty little boy in his uniform red sweatshirt and grey trousers. Memories, memories.
1610: Some time in the past few hours, while I've been working away here in West London, 200-odd miles away, our house has been formally repossessed. I feel, somehow, that I ought to be more upset than I am, but I can't bring myself to grieve over what, even if I was still living there, wouldn't really be a home any longer. Everything that made it 'home' was effectively lost in that hour on February 29. Still, the bankers and their minions will doubtless get their bonuses. I can hardly restrain my joy at the thought.Something I heard on the radio news at 8:00 did make an impression on my befogged mind, though - a report has found that the number of children in the UK allowed to play outside without supervision has fallen drastically in the past 30 or 40 years. 'Over-protective parents' are blamed, but what about the sensationalist reporting of the undoubtedly sad, but very rare cases where children have been abducted and abused, but which has convinced parents that there's a 'paedo' on every street corner? The media have, as is often the case, much to answer for.
1140: That picture. I spent a good 20 minutes last night just gazing at it, not upset or elated, just lost in a web of memory and beauty. And it's not even a picture of the boy himself, just a lookalike, albeit a close match. Was it love, or just superficial infatuation? I'd like to think it's the former, given the avalanche of consequences that have ensued, the first tremor on that late summer day almost six years ago, when I first saw him, helping his family take their boat down to the river. I thought they were just tourists, it wasn't until the school term started a week or so later that I realised that he lived locally, as he walked past my workplace with his mother and sister on the way to the local primary school, a pretty little boy in his uniform red sweatshirt and grey trousers. Memories, memories.
2130: Back at base again, after a long, reasonably intense, but relatively unproblematic day at work. I've just spoken, fairly briefly, to my brother, who's coming up to London on Saturday with my sister-in-law to have their taste of the Olympics - they've got tickets for the volleyball at Earls Court. I'm going to meet up with them for an hour or so before work, and I've arranged that they can leave their car in our staff car park while they go to the event on the Tube. It'll be good to catch up with them again.
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
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