Category: Kids
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Play Street
We used to play in the street outside our home as kids growing up in the 70s. In rural Lincolnshire. Of course, it wasn’t a main road, it was the road on our council estate. Pretty much everyone had a car, and many of the houses had their own garage.
In London, or Greater London, it’s generally not safe for kids to play in the street, although we’re lucky where we are that our little cul-de-sac can double-up as a relatively safe enough play area most of the time.
The road next to us is an HGV Access Road, thanks to our local ward councillor and current council leader.
It’s definitely NOT safe for kids to play in at all.
Not until the Water Company came along. For the past two or three weeks, they have closed part of the road where my sons’ friends live to clear the pipes of wet wipes, sanitary products, fat and oil.
They’ve dug a massive hole in the road, which I’ve told my nine year old is The Pit of Tartarus. It’s all barricaded off, with heavy machinery, waste skips and various bits of equipment.
So the road is now a no through road, with access only for residents and deliveries.
My kids and their friends have really enjoyed playing out in the street whenever they can, thanks also to our “Indian Summer”.
Of course, there are plenty of drivers who ignore (or don’t see?) the signs telling them the road is closed, and drive down it anyway. My job was mostly to tell them, “No, you can’t drive on the pavement. Can’t you see there are kids playing? Plus, it’s a pavement. This isn’t the Wild West!”
Fortunately, everyone was reasonable enough when challenged to back away, turnaround and drive around following the “diverted traffic” signs.
Thankfully, my job was made redundant by the older kids in the group, who took it upon themselves to relieve me of my onerous duties. They barricaded the pavements with spare cones, and now they marshall the traffic. Much more effective!
Class
Thinking about Maths at school, got me thinking about the origin and meaning of class.
It’s a classic word, and means so many different things depending on the context in which it’s used.
Its Roman origin relates to the dividing up of society, or groups of people for war or military objectives.
My Latin teacher at school was obsessed with lining up the desks and chairs at the end of each lesson.
“Caecilius pater est” is the only Latin I can remember.
We rebelled, and persuaded our headteacher to teach us Classics in Translation instead. That was fun. Reading, and learning all about ancient Greek philosophy and mythology.
Distraction
It’s easy to get distracted.
My nine year old told his mum last night that he was so distracted by thoughts in his head at school that the teacher gave him a blank piece of paper and a pen to “download” everything in his mind.
All he could think about was Super Mario and Nintendo.
Well, it was Maths.
I always liked Maths at school. Mainly because there was no homework, or writing, or revision to do. Either I knew it or I didn’t. And I mostly did, up until A Levels.
My “Pure Maths” teacher told me I would never amount to anything. I guess he was right about that.
My “Applied Maths” teacher tried to make lessons more memorable by telling us a story about a man who grew jellies in his garden. I guess he was right about that.
I got a B grade in O Level Maths. If I’d actually made any kind of effort I could probably have got an A. Things could have been oh so different!
The Swimmer
My nine year old is on week three of his school swimming lessons.
Prior to the first lesson, he was very anxious about getting his hair wet, and getting his nose under the water. This, despite the fact that he absolutely loved the sea and the pool on our holiday last month (and last year, and the year before that).
We bought him a swimming cap, which everyone has to wear in any case. He’s got massive natural afro hair, so the first three swimming caps we bought were too small.
He was very anxious about putting on his swimming cap for the lessons. I said I would help him, as I would be there, but of course, that never happened as they all just marched straight into the changing rooms leaving me alone with my coffee-free café.
Fortunately, one of the teaching staff helps him with his cap.
So he keeps his hair dry. And after the second lesson last week, he came home and informed us that:
- he put his nose under the water and survived
- he wants to go swimming at the weekend
- he wants a swimming “noodle”.
Human Shield
The school asked for a parent to volunteer to accompany the children to their weekly swimming class.
They said I could sit in the café and drink coffee. No swimming required. I volunteered.
I’m basically a fourth chaperone, in addition to the three teaching staff. I simply accompany the children to their swimming class, and back.
The class teacher gave me the two page risk assessment to read on the first morning, and I’ve taken it upon myself to stand either at the back of the line of kids, or in the middle, depending on where there is a gap of supervising adults. I try to act as a human shield on zebra crossings.
That’s it.
While the kids are having their swimming lesson, I sit in the adjacent café (which is permanently closed, by the way) with my distraction-free writing device. I get an hour a week now to write in peace. It’s wonderful.
The Door
The door was old, but it still functioned as a door. It opened and closed, and kept us safe and warm.
As it got older, it got a bit cranky and quirky.
The spring-loaded closing mechanism no longer worked as it should. If you were a small person, a cat or a delivery driver, you had to beware this big old heavy door slamming shut whether you were in, out, or somewhere in between.
Sometimes the lock wouldn’t work at all and you had to hope there was someone inside who would let you in. Mostly, it required a certain knack to unlock it. Which kept kids out, and ensured extra exercise for grown-ups getting up off the sofa to let kids in.
One day, the housing association’s sub-contractors came to take our door away. It was a fire safety hazard, according to a very expensive risk assessment they carried out several years ago in the wake of the Grenfell Fire.
They came, they saw(ed), they removed our old door in five minutes flat, leaving a gaping hole.
The new door is sleek and fancy.
“It’s a like for like replacement,” they said.
“Hmmm… the handle is on the right hand side,” I said.
“And the door opens to the left not the right.”
“I’m very unhappy,” said my wife.
“It’s not magnetic,” said my nine year old.
“Where’s they keyhole?” my three year old didn’t say, but the question must surely have been going through his mind as he tried to unlock the door on the wrong (right) side with the new key.
I learnt a new word today.
Big kid complained that little kid “yeeted” his Lego Pikachu.
I had to look it up.
Yeet: to throw especially with force and without regard for the thing being thrown.
Open letter to Peter Mason
Publishing this as it’s in the public interest and I’ve had no reply to my original email sent on 1st July (Mason has, as far as I know, several personal assistants who read and respond to his emails, even if it’s just a holding acknowledgement response - I’ve had one before, as well as a next day reply, and a ’no reply at all’).
I’ve also now submitted two Freedom of Information requests to get answers to my questions.
Dear Peter,
In your open letter to Angela Fonso and CASH dated 12 July 2021, you pledged that:
“[t]he Council will not take any further sponsorship from Berkeley Group.”
I was shocked, therefore, to see the new Mayor of Ealing tweet to thank Berkeley Group for their sponsorship of an event he organised and hosted.
In your letter mentioned above, you also stated:
“I am determined to ensure that the Council’s future dealings with developers are transparent, arms-length and do not give rise to concerns that it is privileging the relationship with developers above that with residents.”
I was dismayed, therefore, to discover (from Berkeley marketing material, hand delivered, photo attached) that a Southall councillor (Cllr Jassal) and a council officer (Evelyn Gloyn, Ealing’s Community Engagement Manager) are members of Berkeley Group’s new “community engagement” steering group. This clear conflict of interest with the health and wellbeing of residents who Cllr Jassal is elected to represent does not appear on Cllr Jassal’s declaration of interests on the council website. Cllr Jassal and Evelyn Gloyn are literally standing shoulder to shoulder with Berkeley Group, not at “arms-length”, as you pledged two years ago.
I note also that various councillors have continued to attend Berkeley Group’s marketing events (sold as “community events”).
I know you have a very strong commitment to leading an open and transparent administration, and so, therefore, I ask you to tell me:
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the monetary value of “sponsorship” Ealing Council (councillors, officers, Mayor) has accepted from Berkeley Group since your letter of 12 July 2021, and for which events?
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the Ealing Council policy for councillors, officers, Mayor, for accepting sponsorship, hospitality and gifts from developers, and to ensure that the Council will not take any further sponsorship from Berkeley Group?
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the action you will take to prevent councillors, officers, Mayor accepting sponsorship, hospitality and gifts from developers in future, and publicly returning sponsorship already received from Berkeley Group.
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the Ealing Council policy for councillors, officers, Mayor, to ensure future dealings with developers are transparent, arms-length and do not give rise to concerns that it is privileging the relationship with developers above that with residents?
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the action you will take to prevent councillors, officers, Mayor privileging the relationship with developers above that with residents, and publicly disengaging from Berkeley Group’s profit-driven marketing schemes dressed up as “community engagement”?
Yours sincerely,
David Marsden
