Getting There

Lies and injustice, the Shrewsbury 24

Aiden McHaffie — Mon, 13 May 2013 21:36:26 +0000

I am currently away in Glasgow at my union conference representing the interests of some 500 souls. I doubt that many are awaiting with baited breath to discover the decisions I made on their behalf, I doubt many are aware of the uncertain future threatening the TSSA or that there is an alternative to the madness that presents itself as a government of the people for the people.
In the light of the saddening news with the first of no doubt many similar episodes, of someone deciding their own life is worthless in the face of austerity, I am at a loss why we aren’t on the streets to demand an end to the evil this government produces. What does it take for Britain 2013 to stand up and say no?
Social conscious is pilloried, the weak are castigated and portrayed as an undeserving underclass and no matter how bad the situation is, it can be exploited for profit, Lord Young was only just saying how good austerity was for business by keeping labour costs down. Here is chap who knows stuff, two years ago he told us we had never had it so good, compared to 2013 he was probably right.
We often look to the past for lessons to shape the future and the ruling classes are no different, they have learned from their losses and put plans, laws and procedures in place to keep the lower classes in place. One such lesson was given to us tonight by Eileen Turnbull who travelled from Liverpool to talk on the campaign for justice for the Shrewsbury 24. Ricky Tomlinson had been expected to talk to us but apparently he would rather have root canal work done than talk to a conference of transport workers. I wish him speedy recovery and advise him that Eileen was an inspired and captivating replacement.
Until recently I was pretty unaware of the Building Workers Strike of 1972. I was 10 years old at the time and my childhood memories are of power cuts and the four minute warning but I have learned of the injustice and the damned lies that transformed a demand for fair pay and safe working conditions into a conspiracy that led to imprisonment and blacklisting. I was privileged to attend a talk by Gerry Kelly at a trades council meeting where he outlined how he is still blacklisted from the construction industry 40 years after the dispute. I was disturbed to discover that in the 21st Century blacklisting is still determining who works and who doesn’t and that safety is being blamed for the lack of an upturn in the economy.
Hearing the plight of the Shrewsbury 24 demonstrated the lengths the fat cats are prepared to go to to get even and the lengths forty years later they are still prepared to go to to bury the truth. I am confused how a 12 week strike, four decades ago can be classed as a matter of national security and yet Chris Grayling refuses to release documents on those grounds.
The campaign and the E-petition have been well publicised, well you can’t lock up Jim Royale without it going unnoticed but it appears even now, despite the overwhelming evidence of injustice, someone isn’t playing fair and questions have been raised in Parliament over tampering with the petition. To this end the Shrewsbury 24 campaign is seeking to get the 100000 signatures the old fashioned way, on paper and I should imagine the image of a red faced Ricky Tomlinson carrying a huge box of signatures up Downing Street will be a whole lot more unpleasant than a foul mouthed toff on a push bike.
The petition can be downloaded from WWW.Shrewsbury24campaign.org.UK/

A deserved break!

Aiden McHaffie — Wed, 17 Apr 2013 16:49:37 +0000

It has been a busy couple of days with regard to Consultant appointments. The claim is at the stage where solicitors on both sides are requiring medical reports from experts in broken bones and broken minds. Yesterday we visited a clinic is the posh end of Birmingham to have my arm pulled about for the defence’s benefit. The Mister, as they are way better than Doctors, gave me a thorough test which resulted in a pulled muscle and a lot of residual pain. The end result was the conclusion that the injuries could not have been caused by anything other than the accident. Whilst this was a relief, I couldn’t help thinking these people get paid a lot of money for stating the bleeding obvious.

Today we visited a less posh location in the south of Birmingham to a Mister who was checking my head for the benefit of the defence. In many ways, the ordeal of having the trauma dragged up is worse than having my battered body pulled about. The truth is my head wasn’t in the best shape before the accident and so the damage is less clear cut. My bike was my thinking space that made many other things bearable, to prove that I am more of a nut than I was is difficult and to relate to issues that are now thirteen months hence is difficult to recall and relate.

I wasn’t expecting a pleasant experience, I certainly wasn’t expecting the Mister to give a heartfelt plea to reconsider how my PTSD will be treated and for this Mister to basically call my Mister an unqualified charlatan, whose testimony has been called into doubt in a court of law. He called his report nothing much more than a speculative tender to provide treatment and if he had provided a medical report and a quote to carry out the work, he would expect to be struck off the register. This leaves me in a situation, there is no doubt I need treatment and funds have been set aside with my Solicitors to provide payment for the treatment, so treatment isn’t in doubt here but blimey I am in turmoil as to whether I should be going next week and see his bank account swell by £1500 for the delivery of snake oil.

The other issue is why my Solicitors have chosen an expert with no recognised qualification to act on my behalf and why they have allowed an unethical tender to go ahead. I only want the best for me but I now have serious doubts if my cure really is around the corner. I have waited so long for this to happen, with a dim hope that it may lead to me getting back in the saddle I don’t want it messed up.

Based on some kind of stubborn defence mechanism I realised that there is no point waiting for my head to be fixed and took the bull by the horns. I removed Linda’s bike from the shed and did a few circuits around the block and my arm didn’t drop off, my head didn’t explode and it felt good. So good that all I want to do is get back on and go for a proper ride and see how a few miles feel. Of course this meant finding something with wheels attached to test myself with and this call for help has been answered by a very good friend who has kindly agreed to lend Aldridge’s most prolific cycle crasher a steed to have a go on for which I am extremely grateful. Well I am off to polish my SPD’s in readiness wearing a great big smiley face beaming out from under my flat cap.

A day at Ladywalk Nature Reserve

Aiden McHaffie — Mon, 15 Apr 2013 20:00:09 +0000

We decided to take advantage of the seasonably normal weather and our recently purchased membership to the West Midlands Bird Club and took a drive over to Ladywalk Nature Reserve in the heart of the Hams Hall distribution centre in the outskirts of Birmingham.

Now a bigger than huge industrial area in close proximity to the urban sprawl seems an unlikely location for much in the way of wildlife but it turned out to be a real gem with a number of well situated hides, pleasant paths and varied environment. The car park leads you along the river, through woodland, and into wetland and lakes. The margins were a flurry of activity and the sight of Cormorants nesting in the trees was more akin to a Attenborough documentary for far flung shores than the West Midlands.

In all we saw 37 species of birds, 3 Muntjac deer and a number of bees and butterflies. Of highlight for me was a first ever sighting of Little Grebe, Redshank, Redpoll and Dunlin. The slightly unusual sighting of Little Egret, Common Sandpiper, Oystercatchers and Grey Wagtail were amongst those recorded and just this one trip was worth the joining fee alone.

Linda managed to get quite a few shots of the sightings as I elected to carry my spotting scope rather than the camera on this occasion which usually ensures we get a host of unusual sightings.

Without doubt, with the compact nature of the location and the short distance from our house Ladywalk has just topped my list of favourite birding spots.

Walsall Q and A

Aiden McHaffie — Tue, 09 Apr 2013 20:26:39 +0000

Reblogged from The Plastic Hippo:

The whole point of a Secret Service is that it should remain secret in exactly the same way that a Public Service should remain public.

In Walsall, however, expedience decrees that open and accountable local government must, for the good of its beneficiaries, draw a discreet veil over some of the more “sensitive” issues that require our busy councillors to devote so much time and energy to resolve.

Are you being served?

Aiden McHaffie — Sun, 24 Mar 2013 20:21:26 +0000

Reblogged from The Plastic Hippo:

The sad death of Frank Thornton at the grand old age of 92 serves as a reminder that terrible comedy is less excruciating when executed with impeccable timing and genuine acting talent. Unfortunately, as we have witnessed this week, experience of folding towels at Selfridges is not necessarily the best preparation for those fortunate enough to be elevated to the position of Chancellor of the Exchequer.

Commotion on the Common

Aiden McHaffie — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 18:53:30 +0000

It has been a while since I blogged about anything, I suppose my recent operation sapped some of my humour and maybe stopped me seeing the funny side of things for a while but a meeting I attended last night seemed to kickstart the systems again.

I was wearing my “Friends of ” hat and the hot topic for the night was the proposed plans to tip the balance of Brownhills Common back towards Heathland. This proactive management of the land was specified by Natural England when making the Common a SSSI.

Heathland is a disappearing environment and as we now have a better understanding of how nature works and the fundamental interconnectedness of all things that provide us with a functioning planet. It is widely recognised that humans have seriously messed up the planet and that this really cannot go on. This wasn’t something decided in Walsall by a pen pusher looking to make a quick profit to the detriment of the locality, this was decided at the Rio summit. The overall impression gained from this worldwide gathering of people who really know their shit was that as a species we not only needed to stop messing things up but to try and put some things back to the way they were and maybe apologise to the other residents of the planet that we were affecting.

Following from the second world war, a programme of tree planting was put into action. These trees needed to have rapid growth for a relatively fast turn over brought about by a desperate shortage of timber. Rather than a native species, the tree of choice were Conifers. No regard or consideration was given native species or the effect on the biodiversity of our countryside, this was about a means to an end, a quick fix and purely for financial reasons. As a result the Heathland of Brownhills was turned over to plantation.

It takes very specific conditions for heathland to prevail and healthy heathland actually contributes to the containment of carbon emissions, which in turn reduces the effects of climate change. This is generally considered the greatest danger to life on the planet. Currently less than 20% of the country’s heathland remains and the fact that Brownhills Common was granted SSSI status reflects the genuine importance of the site for the benefit of the environment. Brownhills has a chance of saving the world and that isn’t something that is mentioned every day. SSSI status provides a number of benefits, the most important is the protection of the site from other uses, building, mining, mineral extraction. SSSI status ensures the area will be there for future generations to enjoy and at a push that future generations will there to enjoy it.

The loss of some of the plantations and their resultant return to their original state isn’t going down well with the people who enjoy the location as it is, there were a number of people at the meeting who have a lifetime of watching this foreign ecology evolve. I have spent far too much time with Swampy look a likes and wouldn’t have figured anyone there as an environmental protester, so this is obviously an emotive subject. One lady enjoys watching the trees change with the seasons another gentleman commented in the local press that they look lovely covered in snow and I must agree with both of them.

Now there has been a lot of trust lost in the meat business of late but for a local Butcher making the headlines by wanting to see the Deer on Brownhills Common seems does come across a tad strange, I understand that the Travelling community tether Horses about the locality and yet he displayed a juxtaposition to Traveller presence in a most derogatory manner. Fortunately he left early to a more important engagement at Rushall Olympic.

The truth is Deer are pretty ambivalent to Conifers. Conifers sap nutrients from the ground and the needles provide ground cover preventing the growth of any tasty treats. They are ideally camouflaged to bed down in grass and heather, the provision of a heathland corridor between Hednesford and Sutton Park would no doubt increase the predominance of Deer as a herding animal they do like to roam the plains.

The over riding impression I got from the meeting was the intransigent attitude and the total unwillingness to listen to the rationale, the facts or the presentation. There was a loud cry for a public meeting which in all probability would become a public lynching. We got so much wrong in the 20th Century, this is about putting something right. I think the people of the area need to keep an open mind and consider the facts before buying the rope.

Monarch of the glen

Aiden McHaffie — Fri, 08 Mar 2013 08:29:57 +0000

Reblogged from The Plastic Hippo:

Any attempt to parody the profound words attributed to Pastor Martin Niemoller is at best in poor taste and could be considered as sacrilegious. Anyway, here goes...

First they came for the forests, and I didn`t speak out because I wasn`t a tree.

Then they came for the badgers, and I didn`t speak out because I wasn`t a badger.

Then they came for the deer and I didn`t speak out because I wasn`t a dirty great big stag with sharp pointy antlers.

Background noise

Aiden McHaffie — Mon, 25 Feb 2013 17:06:20 +0000

Reblogged from The Plastic Hippo:

It requires an extraordinary amount of brass to construct the neck of a politician. Ironically, the weaker the intellect, the absence of spine and the more dubious the morality, the more brass is needed. Only the purest, most precious brass is reserved for the necks of creatures that call themselves Liberal Democrats.

It is a given that the Tory party is nasty and that the millionaire Conservative front bench are intent on returning to the dark ages of gentry and peasantry, master and servant.

365/365 The last word

Aiden McHaffie — Thu, 17 Jan 2013 23:21:13 +0000

Here we are the last entry for my year of blogging. Did I get there? Is there ever a there to get there to? do you have to understand there to be there? In summary, sort of, probably and definitely not.

I started this project when I was at a particularly low ebb, I had just been released from hospital after a temporary loss of vision, though no reason could be established for the blindness attack I do believe it was stress based. I was feeling extremely depressed and could feel me disappearing inside myself. The blog was created as a diary and as a therapy, something to look back on and to hopefully chart progress through the medium of word. Looking back I don’t think I could have picked a more interesting year, not that I really needed interesting as the Chinese curse concludes, interesting is a double edged sword.

Quite often you see celebrities on chat shows saying that they can’t watch themselves on playback and I always believed they were being drama junkies feigning modesty however I have had to rethink that conclusion as I can’t bring myself to read my blog, it makes me squirm and get annoyed with myself. Perhaps in years to come I will be able to reflect upon 2012 and be grateful for the record I kept of a year in my life.

The year started out with me being unwell and despite the blindness lasting half an hour or so and the headaches for a few days, I felt wrong for weeks. Almost like I had been seriously ill. The early days of the blog kept my mind working in a positive way and the idle moments spent watching the birds out of the patio doors developed from a desire to know what species were visiting into a full blown and enthralling hobby. I suspect that most people wouldn’t consider it an exciting and interesting pastime but the sheer joy of watching animals in their own environment and the thrill of seeing something completely new is unbridled. Of course it would later transpire that this interest developed not only as a hobby but became the connection into a wider love of the environment culminating in getting involved with Biodiveristy, from there we got back into machinations of committees and organisation by being involved in the formation of the Friends of Park Lime Pits. All this was an aid to regaining a self confidence that I was sure I had lost as well as giving me happy thoughts to drive out the negative ones. Ultimately the return to politics became inevitable caused in part by the need to protect endangered and vital staff within the Countryside services team at Walsall Council. This probably wouldn’t have occurred had the accident not happened but going blind and becoming a twitcher were certainly catalysts.

I hadn’t been back at work long when the events of March 1st occurred. An enjoyable ride into work in unseasonably pleasant weather turned into a nightmare on the way back. A momentary lapse of concentration by a driver wanting to join a busy dual carriageway left me on the road my elbow shattered. The story is still writing itself as I await further surgery but the twists and turns of the plot would make a great book, unfortunately Brian Glover isn’t around to play my part in the film.

The treatment I received from the Police, the Hospital and the Drivers insurers beggar belief, the blog was the perfect outlet to vent my feelings as I muddled through from day to day, addled on pain killers as angry at the world. I had been a victim of circumstance and policy. Linda started a campaign to seek justice as I fell apart, I couldn’t face my future, I couldn’t handle the pain and lost faith in a system I believed in. The publicity found me attacked by bottom dwelling scum who hide in the murky corners of the internet, their abuse and suggestions of suicide took me to an all time low. Suicide made sense. It would be far easier to go away, end the pain and finish the uncertain future. The publicity also brought action and the action brought change. The Police admitted that we hadn’t been served as we could have expected and they drilled down into the issue and took the policy apart. The result was that no cyclist or pedestrian should find themselves alone and wanting at the time when they are at their most vulnerable. Getting this wasn’t only a victory, it was vindication and it was reassuring that we made a difference. The Hospital took months to decide I was a liar but that wasn’t a surprise, it is far better to hide the truth than admit change is required. The insurance company are handling the matter as expected, they have admitted full responsibility and are not prepared to act on that. It is now with the courts and in time I might see some money. For now we will struggle on .

My mental health picked up, which was a good job and with a win or two behind us I began feeling more positive and less introspective, the outside world that I had shunned for years had become a hostile place ruled by hideously evil politicians and I had a lot of time on my hands to get angry about how other people were being treated because no matter how beat up I was, there are millions worse off than me. I became increasingly political, the old, long forgotten me came out of hiding, dusted off my red flag and started getting vocal. The memories of the years spent in the Labour Party and as a union official came flooding back to me as did the passion to stand up and be counted. Having been on the edge, the fear of being singled out is no longer there. I might not make much difference but if I can piss a few off on the way then it will be worth it. So whilst there is no political party to represent my views I have become active in the Union and recently gained the position of Area Health and Safety representative and it appears this is just the right moment to become a pain in the arse as we have just learned of the proposed closure of our workplace. I won’t go down without a fight and I hope I don’t stand on my own against it.

As I recovered from my physical injuries and found my new limitations I lost a hobby I have done on and off for 35 years and thought I had lost one I have loved for the last twenty. I expect I could ride a bike, it would hurt and I wouldn’t be in total control, not that I really was to start with but the largest bar is in between my ears. I don’t think I could ride again without invoking a hysterical state every time a car came past. I still love cycling, being off work for all that time allowed me to watch all the classic races and all the track cycling and I loved it but fell to pieces when an accident occurred. I don’t feel the need or the desire to expose myself to that level of stress. The opposite applied to archery, I had every intention of getting back out there as soon as possible if not sooner, the elbow would be an inconvenience at worst. When it became apparent that I physically couldn’t shoot, I was destroyed. I tried all manner of ways which were met with negativity and aggression by the sport’s ruling body. Ultimately the end of the dream came when the consultant told me I must not shoot if I wanted my elbow to last the ten years he predicted it would. Time went by and it became an obsession almost to find a way to get back out there. This ended up with Merlin Archery kindly lending me a bow to see if I could shoot wrong handed. The exercise wasn’t a total success but it did provide the solution that I could shoot right handed if I used an Olympic recurve. The next day I was on the phone to another archery shop who helped me out by taking my crossbow off me and letting me walk out the shop with everything I needed to resume shooting. It has taken months to develop a consistent, pain free technique but we are now at a point where I am looking to start competing again which is something I am thrilled about, although I am struggling to work out where I will find the time now that saving the planet and rescuing the population from Conservatism and bad employers.

Over the last 365 days I have seen so much change in me and aside from one change every other is positive and it is no exaggeration to say that none of this would have been possible without the my wonderful, beautiful and amazing fiancé, Linda. She has done everything and more to make my life easy and my recovery the best it can be. She has shown support and love, she has provided strength and understanding and asked for nothing in return. I really am so very lucky and so very happy. Thank you my darling.

So all that is left is to consider then next 365. I won’t be writing a daily blog but that doesn’t mean I won’t be regularly pounding the keys and whilst idiots run the country and the poor and infirm are harassed for daring to share the same oxygen as the ruling class, while nature provides wonders to be amazed over, there will always be something to comment on.

For those of you who have read this diatribe on a regular basis, who have taken the time to care and to comment and those of you that have become good friends I thank you for the honour and with that “Getting There” is signing off.

364/365

Aiden McHaffie — Thu, 17 Jan 2013 00:03:37 +0000

Oh blimey,I can vouch for Uku amber ale, for it is pretty amazing stuff. Tonight I said goodbye to Alec, Ale, Arik or whatever name he is prepared to go by. He has given a lifetime to the railway and to be fair his last contribution was on the most thankless position in the office. I am not ashamed to say I envy his ability to take his towel and throw it in the face of management. I possibly envy the fact that he is retiring to a far hotter climate and cheaper beer but I would forsake Thailand for Shropshire if push comes to shove.

Anyway, if this makes no sense I’m not surprised and you were warned yesterday.

Being amongst fellow railway persons it doesn’t take much before the conversation heads into the subject of the railways and whilst I am not a typical lover of the railway I do have a respect for the industry that has provided an income for me for over five decades. Every time you put a group of railwaymen together in a social environment they are able to solve all the issues that affect the smooth running of the system and whilst alcohol plays a large part in the process, the overriding conclusion is that the problem lies with technology. In the old days a signalling problem was a snapped cable to a signal , today it is a panel failure affecting 20 miles of track. In the old days a door fault was a single egress to a coach,now it is a unit taken out of service and five hundred unhappy punters on a platform. In the old days a driver having a hissy fit involved either five minutes whilst he calmed down or at worst a replacement being dragged out of a card school in a mess room of spare men, now it involves a line stoppage for an hour or so, downloads and a hundred hindsight merchants proving how they could have done it better.

The upshot is for all the high tech progress and the billion pound investments, we could have done it better without university graduates and private investment if we had been allowed. After all the only real thing people complained about was the British Rail sandwich and now I suspect the consensus of rail users would be grateful to complain about the food. The ironic thing is that increasingly desperate improvements are promised and in reality the public only require is a reliable service.

Anyway, I am failing to make sense and nothing I say will change anything so I had best start working on my hangover.