Lucky (Poem)

I'm lucky
Sitting here,
Cozy
And safe from the cold.
Lucky,
I have shelter
And a home.

I'm lucky
Sitting here,
Wondering what to eat for lunch,
Lucky,
I'm not a starving mass
Of dying skin
And bone.

I'm lucky
Sitting here,
Thinking of Christmas presents,
Lucky,
I don't face the season
Wandering
And alone.

I am lucky
Sitting here,
Family not far away
Lucky,
That I'm here at all,
And lucky,
I am loved.

My Response To Lord Freud's Heartless 'Funeral' Comments

I was stunned by Lord Freud’s comments the other day. Something twisted in my stomach, and I wanted to throw the nearest object!

The ‘well, what do you expect?’ type attitude I got from some people I spoke to afterwards, didn’t even begin to cover it!

Firstly, ‘the poor should take more risks because they have less to lose’ idea doesn’t even make sense to me, and I don’t think it would to anyone who understood what it is like to struggle financially.

For those that have to live on a tight budget (and in more and more cases lately) have to choose between heating and eating, the idea of taking risks with what money you do have is a scary one. You can’t take risks with little or no ‘disposable income’ because every penny counts and you spend most of your life hoping that the proverbial ‘rainy day’ never comes.  

To me and many others those comments alone showed a fundamental lack of understanding that has been central to this government and their policies.  

 According to a May 2012 article in the Telegraph, the cabinet is worth seventy million pounds (source:  http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/politics/9290520/Exclusive-Cabinet-is-worth-70million.html ). How then can they possibly claim to understand the hardship increasing numbers of people e are facing in today’s society? They can’t!

Many of them have been wealthy from birth and have had all the privileges and opportunities that go along with it. This brings me (albeit briefly) onto another important point. Why are we allowing ourselves to be so many clearly ‘out of touch’ elites?

Personally, I think it’s time for some big changes. There should be no more so called ‘career politicians’  who have been fast tracked as a result of who they know, where they went to school and how much money their family have. We need people who have at least lived a ‘real’ life and known what it’s like to do a ‘proper’ day’s work.

I’m a big believer in the idea that the experiences you have in life shape you as a person. If you haven’t experienced an ‘everyday life,’ it is going to seem distant from you and you will view things differently. The decisions being made will not have any impact on the people making them, so they don’t concern themselves with the consequences of their actions.

All this ties in rather nicely with further comments made by Lord Freud in the same interview. He was asked what he knew of a life where having ten pounds less to spend would make a difference? I was impressed by the guts of the interviewer in asking such a question, but the Minister’s response made my blood run cold. He said  

“We have a lot of information feedback and listen a lot, so I think we can absorb the information about what it takes and what’s required…I think you don’t have to be the corpse to go to a funeral, which is the implied criticism there.”

Several expletives and a calming conversation with some friends later, I had just about resisted the urge to throw something at the radio!

What hit me first was the total insensitivity of his comments. There is an average of seventy three deaths per week as a result of Welfare Reform. Deaths of the most vulnerable, ill and disabled people in our society who have either been found wrongly ‘fit for work’ by ATOS and died later or those who had been left feeling so fearful and desperate at the thought of life without vital benefits, that they saw no option but to take their own lives! With that in mind those comments are even sicker than they might first appear.

I was disgusted at the heartlessness of the man. These deaths are happening as a result of policies which he has put in place and to me it felt like he was rubbing our noses in it.  

I couldn’t help but think of the corpses of the people that have died as a result of this, and it isn’t an image any of us campaigners really want to be reminded of. It adds to the anxiety and fear that we already feel on a daily basis. We are confronted over and over again by the reality of what’s happening to us – just because we have the misfortune to be ill and disabled. His comments compounded all that and actually, made me feel physically sick.

May I remind you Lord Freud, that when you attend someone’s funeral, it usually means that you cared about them,  and you valued their life. You have no such feelings about the lives of the poor, disabled and ill. Your comments showed that we are worthless to you and your government. If we weren’t you would never have made them!

If it was up to me, Lord Freud would resign. His comments were despicable and unforgivable. The attitude of this whole government towards the sick and disabled is embodied right there, in the attitude of one man. I was left feeling worthless temporarily, but it made me more determined than ever to fight back, and I did that through writing this article.

I am not a corpse! My life and the lives of thousands of others like me, has meaning and value even if you and your government can’t see it!  It is you that are the corpses because you clearly don’t have an ounce of understanding or compassion. You have no right to make judgements on us.

Christmas is Off! (Short Story)

Rudolf opened a sleepy eye and surveyed the scene. There was no fresh hay, and no one had brought his breakfast yet! It was definitely that time of year again. Hic Choo!  Yes, definitely that time of year again, for Rudolf had a cold. It would help of course, if there were fresh hay and a bit of breakfast when it was required. Neglect, that's what this was – someone should call the R.S.P.C.A!
 
Rudolf tapped on the ground impatiently with a hairy hoof, and waited. Prancer jerked awake at the sound. Sharing a stall with a diva had its drawbacks! Prancer peered at his companion and noticed that, once again, his nose was red, swollen and sore. Prancer tried to suppress the silent joy that welled up in him. After all, it wasn't charitable to take pleasure in someone else's misfortune, even if it was Rudolf's!
Instead he said brightly, "Gee Rudy, you have a cold!" His words were greeted by a disdainful huff and a gruff "State the bloomin'...hic choo...obvious, why don't you?!" Prancer smiled inwardly, and closed his eyes again.

Just over an hour later Norm, the bespectacled elf appeared, "Sorry I'm late boys! Been a bit hectic upstairs..." Rudolf said nothing, but noted the elf's change in clothing. The usual comfortable brown over shirt had been replaced by a green and red apron. On it were embroidered the words ‘The North Pole welcomes the Festive Season'. "Festive, my arse!" Rudolf muttered, and began to munch his hay. 


Just then, Mrs Clause appeared in the doorway with her hands on her hips. Her face was pinker than usual. Norm wandered over to her and draped his arm around her shoulders. The Reindeers exchanged glances, ‘Aye, aye, what's going on here then?' From the doorway they clearly heard the words "Christmas is OFF!"

Much later the Reindeers were still in shock. Rumours, whispers and speculation suddenly abound. Had the placid, loving, long suffering Mary Clause finally had enough of her husband? Was she going to leave the North Pole with a certain bespectacled elf? "Let's face it..." Rudolf interjected between sneezes, "He's Brad Pitt by comparison!" The other reindeers sniggered, but no one could avoid the dark clouds of doom that seemed to be gathering over the North Pole.



It was just before dawn the next day, when a large man wearing faded jeans and a crumpled shirt that was two sizes too small wandered aimlessly into the stalls. Rudolf failed to recognise him at first, but as he came closer the long white beard gave him away. A beard which contained pieces of cornflake, traces of tomato sauce and if Rudolf wasn't mistaken, chocolate cake. ‘So this is what Santa Clause looks like on his days off is it?' Rudolf mused, ‘Charming!'

Santa pulled up a stool and perched beside Norm, who, for most of the night, had been sitting reading a novel. Rudolf watched. ‘There may well be fisticuffs.  What would happen then?!'
The two men sat in silence for a while. It was Santa who spoke first eventually. "I'm too big for the sleigh" he said simply, "I know..." Norm responded, putting his book down, "...She did warn you Clause. She tried to change your diet, bought you one of those ‘Wii' thingies to help you exercise more. She knows how much you love your ‘Play station'. "Yes" came the soft reply.

Rudolf listened to the anguished conversation. A moment ago, he had nudged Prancer awake and now they stood alert, uncertain and hardly daring to breathe.
It was true that Rudolf hated Christmas. He hated the chaos, the long, seemingly endless journey and he hated his constant...hic choo...colds, even if they had helped make him famous, he thought smugly. But he loved Clause. They all did. Rudolf caught Prancer's eye, and they knew they had to do something. For now though, captive audience that they were, they carried on listening.
"...You kept on eating, sneaking food when you thought no one was looking..." Norm was saying matter-of-factly, "...and that ‘Wii' thing is still in its box!" Santa nodded sadly. "There must be another way..." Santa said quietly, "We can't just cancel Christmas. Think of the children!"   

Despair crossed his features, as he thought of children around the world, that he, he would let down.  "Someone could go in your place..." Norm said brightly, trying to sound hopeful, but he knew what Santa's response would be, and he was right. "It's against the rules!" Santa replied, his voice gruff with emotion.  Norm stared at the floor, and thought for a moment. Suddenly, an idea struck him. A magnificent idea!  "We could make the sleigh BIGGER!" Norm exclaimed excitedly. 

The little elf began hopping from foot to foot as enthusiasm took hold of him, and his imagination ran riot. Santa looked over at his friend, "We could, but there is just not enough time Norm!" Santa sounded helpless. "We have just over a week"...Norm replied, shaking Clause by the shirt in excitement ... "IT CAN BE DONE!"



While the workshop hustled and bustled, hammered and sawed, the reindeers went into conference themselves,
"I see we weren't consulted about any of this!" Dancer commented, between bites of carrot. All the other reindeers turned to him, "SHUT UP!" they cried in unison, "Was only sayin'" Dancer muttered, "Well, don't!" Rudolf replied, hammering a hoof on the ground with authority. "Hey man, you had a visit from the ghosts of past, present and future or somethin'?!..." Dancer questioned, tilting his head to one side ..."You hate Christmas!" Rudolf was ruffled, "I hate...hic...choo...Christmas, but I don't hate Clause!"

There was silence for a moment while the other reindeers looked at Rudolf with new eyes. Maybe he wasn't as selfish and egotistical as they all thought he was, perhaps they had judged him unfairly.
"We need to contact ‘The Reindeer Council'"... Prancer spoke up ... "There won't be enough of us to pull the... uh, new sleigh." "Consider it done!" Donner called from the back stall. The reindeers, a short time ago filled with such uncertainty, now found themselves bursting with a new sense of optimism and camaraderie.



As dusk descended on Christmas Eve, the Pole was alive and buzzing like never before. In the workshop dishevelled looking elves, lead by an ecstatic Norm, tested and retested the extended sleigh. Its front had been widened and painted beautifully with gold, red and black paints. The pieces of metal that held the contraption together had been replaced, buffed and polished. In short, in shone and gleamed like a new penny.

Rudolf stood proudly at the front ready to lead his friends and the large group of ‘agency' reindeer on their journey. "Hic..." "Uh oh!" Donner said from the back,"CHOO!" completed Rudolf. "I wish I could shake off this cold..." he commented, "It's really beginning to get under my fur..." "Or up your nose!" Prancer retorted from behind him.

After finishing what was left of his salad, Santa kissed Mrs Clause goodbye. She touched his cheek affectionately, "Remember what I said, NO mince pies!" Santa groaned, "Which leaves me with?..." Mary Clause smiled, and looked deliberately toward the door, "Rudolf's carrots!" she said loudly, knowing that our favourite reindeer would hear. The sound of chortling and the distinctive sound of a hairy hoof hitting the ground told her he had!

With his wife and the elves watching from the windows, Santa saluted them all, and climbed aboard his brand new sleigh. "Here we go boys!" Santa said, taking the reins and shaking them.
The ecstatic reindeers and a smiling Santa took easily to the air. He waved at his family once more, and watched the Pole fade into the distance, as they began their journey.
Christmas was once again ON!
  

(Image Courtesy of Google)

Sometimes I wonder... (A Plea). -Facebook Status Update.

Sometimes I wonder how other people would feel if what is happening to disabled and ill people of this country was happening to them?!

How would they feel if they were going to lose the independence they had always fought for, and vital money they relied on?

How would they feel if their friends and comrades were dying every week and everyone was ignoring them when they tried to ask for help?

How would others feel if they were disabled, and the government had taken their lifeline (money) and car away from them?! This is happening to people!

How would they feel if it was them that couldn't walk without help, felt permanently ill, had pain that felt like it might rip them apart, and were still told by the media and government that they were 'faking' and 'scrounging off the state?'

How would they feel if the people who decided if they kept vital disability benefits, were not specialists in your condition and yet still had the right to decide if you were sick/disabled enough to keep benefits?

People are dying - vulnerable people who have been through more suffering and hardship already, than probably most can ever imagine.

I wonder how people would feel if the whole of society made them worthless every single day?

What would it be like to have justify your existence like we do?

I am a person. We all are! I did not ask for my Cerebral Palsy -None of us asked for any of this!

All I want to do is be able to carry a plate across the room without help, go for a walk across the fields with my husband - or simply be able to stand in the middle of room, without having to hold on to something - but I can't, and I never will be able to.

I'll never be able to hold my baby in my arms either. I don't have the option of becoming a mother and watching my kids grow up. I imagine it's the loveliest thing ever, but I can't have it.

We can't have a lot of things. Disabled and ill people have not chosen to be victimised, vilified, made to feel like we are something somebody stepped in, and then stripped of our rights!

All we want is to live as normal a life as we can. We don't ask for much. We just want to be able to make the best of our bad situations, and keep our self respect. Self respect that is being eroded by this government!

Don't swallow the lies and 'scrounger rhetoric'. Please, please, please, don't let them swallow us!

You can your support by at least reading and sharing some of the articles and various bits I put up.

I'm not asking you read all of it. I know it's a lot! But the only weapon we have against this government is sharing information and making people aware of the suffering that is happening around them.

It won't take you more than a few seconds to click 'share' or more than a minute to sign a petition. Please don't ignore us! Our lives depend on it.

Thank you.
Helen 

Spirits and Sleuths - A Short Story for Halloween.

Hi, I’m Mia. Let me begin by telling you that I am not your average fifteen year old girl in more ways than one. I listen to the Eagles and Fleetwood Mac and I don’t do ‘N Dubz’ or Lady Gaga. It’s my mother that waves that waves ‘Heat’ magazine under my nose! I have no interest in Katie and Peter’s latest stunt! Mum and the kids at school think I’m weird. "Really Mia, You should make some attempts to fit in!" Mum will say. "Why?" I reply simply and head back to my room.
Anyway, I digress (yes, I know words like ‘digress’. I learnt them from reading books) and I don’t wish to be mean, but it seems that half the kids in my class probably wouldn’t be able to even spell it!

This story isn’t about me, it’s about my best friend Emma or rather, her house. I guess you could say it’s your average new build family home with three bedrooms and a fully fitted kitchen, blah, blah, blah! The Estate Agent’s details said that there was ‘room for the kids to play’ and almost made a feature of the slide belonging to Emma’s toddler twin sisters. Emma hated that! Actually, Emma hates them! They were an expected present, very unexpected according to Emma, who is silently seething about having to leave her room behind when the family move somewhere bigger.

Anyway sorry, where was I? Oh yes, the house. I have stayed there lots of times but I always feel uneasy. The first time I went in there four years ago I felt so nauseous. Emma laughed and put it down to me eating too many of her Dad’s dodgy pancakes! I didn’t find it funny.
Then she grabbed my hand and hauled me excitedly upstairs to see her new room. I remember suddenly not being able to breathe properly as we reached the doorway, and then being almost overwhelmed by the strong smell of smoke and I stopped dead. Emma turned to me, "You alright? You don’t look too good..."she asked, concerned "Has your Mum burnt something?" I replied quietly, my voice cracking slightly. "No, not in the last twenty four hours!"Emma laughed opening the door to show me her en suite. I think she expected me to be jealous, but I wasn’t. "Oh well, maybe the neighbours are having a bonfire or something then" I replied, and did my best to forget about it.

The day of Emma’s fourteenth birthday, she asked me over for a barbeque. It was a Saturday so Mum said yes when I asked to sleepover.
The house was icy cold when I stepped through the front door into the hall. It was the middle of August and sunlight was streaming through the windows. I had been comfortable in my short red summer dress but suddenly I wished I had brought a jumper. "Hello Mia!" Emma’s mum said brightly as she carried a basket of washing downstairs "...Oh Emma, for goodness sake, get Mia a drink! Don’t just leave her standing there. She’s walked all the way over here!" Emma grumbled and pulled me into the kitchen.

Leaning against the kitchen worktop, I waited for my best friend to fill up our glasses with Coke when I clearly saw a little boy run towards the back door, from the direction of the hall. He looked about our age and had ash blonde hair, appearing not just once, but twice, as the scene repeated itself again. 

My heart stopped beating for a second, and my blood ran cold in my veins. "Em!" I whispered almost too scared to speak, "Did you see that?" "See what?" she replied, handing me the glass. I struggled to take it from her because my hands were clammy and trembling, "Um... you won’t believe this but I think I just saw a ghost! It was a little boy in dark brown trousers, and a white shirt... He just ran across there!" I said gesturing towards the back door. Emma put her arm round me and giggled "Oh yeah, right, you see dead people! You need help Mee!" she commented, and giggled again.

Up until then I had doubted myself, believing that everything I felt and even smelt in that house was a product of the overactive imagination that my Mum says I get from Gran. Still shaking, I took hold of Emma’s arm, "Come on, we’re going outside!" I said rather more urgently than I had intended. Once out on the lawn I felt safe again and the goose pimples began to disappear.

I remember being reluctant to stay that night, and I didn’t sleep a wink! I was ‘top to toe’ with Emma who snuffled and shuffled most of the night, frequently pulling the Justin Bieber covered duvet completely off me.
About two in the morning I needed the loo. Closing my eyes and counting to a hundred, I tried not to think about it. Eventually, I had to give in make my way across the landing to the bathroom. With every click of the pipe work or creaking of floorboard, the latter of which was of my own making, I jumped out of my skin and looked nervously around me.

I was tiptoeing back past the twin’s room a few minutes later, when I noticed a hazy red mist floating steadily up the staircase. Suddenly I no longer cared about waking anyone up and bolted back to bed as fast as my legs would carry me! Emma stirred momentarily as I pulled the duvet roughly over my head. There I stayed huddled tightly and listening to my own breathing, until the birds finally started to sing.

I was picked up just after breakfast, and when I’d hugged Emma goodbye, I asked Mum to drop me at the library. She sighed and rolled her eyes, "What do you want to go there for? We’ve got the internet at home!" When I persisted, she did as I asked telling me to ring when I was ready to come home.
I enjoy the peace of the library.

I love the quiet industriousness of it, and the hissed "Sshhh!" every time someone’s mobile accidentally rings! I turned mine off, and began to search the ‘Local History’ section. I found lots on industry and the Civil War but that wasn’t what was needed. Sipping some squash that I quickly smuggled out of my bag, I looked around. Just about to give up, I noticed the librarian, and wandered nervously over to her. She was busy on the computer but she looked up and smiled warmly, "Excuse me" I muttered quietly "I don’t suppose you would know anything about the housing estate on Wilmhurst Lane, would you? It’s just I can’t seem to find anything."

The woman had red hair and when she smiled at me her green eyes twinkled. Not at all the way you’d expect a librarian to look. "This way" she replied... "The estate used to be fields with a few smallholdings. My Grandfather was born there."
She showed me to a big pile of newspapers tucked away on a bottom shelf. "No one asks to look at these much" she said almost apologetically. "There are some old maps over in the corner. You should find what you are looking for and if you need any help I’m just over here."

I thanked her and, feeling like Sherlock Holmes with a wonderful buzz I can’t explain, I began trawling through facsimiles, papers and maps. Time flew by. I was propelled by thoughts of Emma’s house and the field it was built on. I grinned to myself. ‘Heat’ magazine couldn’t give you this type of buzz!

Sometime after lunch, I struck gold! With a map that showed the location of ‘Little Croft smallholding’ at my side, I found a front page story dated March 1910. "Hamsworth Family Die in Fire Tragedy". I felt sad. That would explain the red mist and the little boy running toward the door. Despite myself I let out a tiny squeal of delight and everyone turned to look at me. I shrank down in my seat, embarrassed. From her place behind the desk the librarian looked in my direction and smiled.


On the way out of the library a while later, I filled out a membership form. When the librarian took it from me, she looked at my name in its black block capitals. "Well, hello Miss Woodward" she said, "glad to see you have such an interest in books!" Her eyes made their way slowly down the form, checking for errors as she spoke "Don’t forget if there’s ever a book you can’t find, just come up to the desk, and ask. I've been here long enough to know where most things are". 

I smiled, and thanking her, I turned to make my way towards the exit. However, as I walked through the heavy doors and out into the street, the woman's voice seemed to follow behind me, "Just ask for Lucy, Lucy Hamsworth. They will know who you mean"...

(Image - Courtesy of 'Google')

Dear Mr Cameron - A Letter to the Prime Minister (Sent 14.10.12)

Dear Mr Cameron

Following your closing speech at the party conference, I felt compelled to write to you in the hope that I may go some way to changing your mind about your policies regarding disabled people.

No disabled, ill or vulnerable person in the country deserves to be targeted, victimised, stripped of their independence and be made to suffer. No one deserves the anxiety and fear that you have inflicted on us.

No one in the world should be made to feel like they don't matter and they don't have a right to support.

The most vulnerable people in this country should not be labelled as 'scroungers' and should definitely not be forced into destitution. They should not be feeling so desperate that they feel their only option is to take their own lives.

To do that to a whole section of society is despicable, callous and cruel, and I find it hard to believe that any decent leader or any so called 'compassionate' party would allow 73 deaths per week to happen! 73 deaths per week of people who are so ill that they are dying – and yet the deeply flawed Work Compatibility Assessment has found them fit for work! It is not compassionate, it is morally wrong!

Where is the compassion in making people like me suffer even more when we already suffer enough? Where is the compassion in creating so much anxiety and outright fear amongst disabled and ill people?

There is none!

I did not ask to be born with Cerebral Palsy. I did not ask never to be able to walk or stand unaided and I did not ask for my constant pain and mind numbing exhaustion. In fact, I did not ask for any of the heartbreaking limitations that have been placed on my life!

I'm terrified of losing what independence I have worked hard to keep. You aren't just taking independence when you strip people of vital disability benefits (although that's bad enough) but you are also taking away our pride and dignity. That is not compassionate. It's not even remotely fair!

Taking away money from the poorest, most ill and disabled sections of society before you tax the rich is something I will never be able to understand. It is not justifiable - ever!

We did not cause the economic mess and yet we are being asked to pay for it! How can you justify hurting so many people and destroying so many lives?

You and I both know that the figures for Disability Benefit Fraud are very low indeed. In reality only 0.5% for Disability Living Allowance and 1.5% for Employment Support Allowance, yet, you and your government feel the need to lie to the public through the media. Why? We simply do not deserve it. 

As a result of this negative media coverage, disability hate crime has risen by 20% nationally.

It hurts us. It really, really hurts us! We are not useless, we are not work shy or feckless or fraudsters! We are people who just want to live as normal a life as we can. We are not bugs to be crushed!

I'm asking you, in fact I will beg you if that's what it takes, to please, please, please, stop destroying our lives! 

Yours sincerely

Helen...












#helenswriting

An 'Off Day' - A 'Guest Blog' Post (Written for the 'Spartacus' Campaign).

I think I’m allowed an ‘off day’ occasionally. With everything I’ve been through already, and will continue to go through until the day I die. I should allow myself an ‘it’s not fair’ day sometimes, because it isn’t.

It isn’t fair that I can’t walk or stand without help, it isn’t fair that I can’t have a job or a baby, and it isn’t fair that I am usually tired and in pain. My Cerebral Palsy is not my fault. It is a result of a hospital mistake, for which we have never received an apology.

They could probably argue that I was a ‘Prem’ baby and it could’ve happened anyway. Busy, overworked staff who didn’t notice my faulty heart monitor until it was almost too late. I know I’m lucky to be here at all, but the damage was done.

Anyway, all I’m trying to say, on behalf of all of us, is never underestimate the amount of strength it takes to cope with our daily lives and accept ourselves.

Now we are being told that our lives and our struggles are worthless.

We are ‘scroungers’ and when we get to assessment, our disabilities or illnesses suddenly don’t exist! Well excuse us for being hurt, frustrated and angry!

This situation just compounds everything we cope with already. I feel ok today, but some days I want to collapse in a quivering heap because I am so sick of struggling and having to fight for things that others take for granted.

The government claims that up to 75% of disability benefit claimants are fraudsters, and they are using doctored figures to justify harsh, callous and cruel benefit cuts which are damaging the lives of people like me. The real figures are very much lower. Only One  in every  Two Hundred  claimants are ‘faking!’

The fact that up to 32 people per week are taking their own lives out of fear, desperation and feeling that there is nowhere to turn is being hidden and ignored.

Put yourselves in our shoes, just for a minute or so. How would you feel?! All we ask is a little bit of support from society and the government.

I will fight against this with every fibre of my being. They will NOT win!

Simply share if you’re with us.

Thank you.