“It is not words that matter, it is action”

Theresa May, Friday 16th July 2010:

“We must give the police and the courts the tools they need to tackle violence against women……

…..But I’m sure we all agree that, fundamentally, it is not words that matter, it is action”

The Independent, Wednesday 4th August 2010:

May scraps power to ban domestic abusers from victims’ homes

“A scheme to protect women from domestic abuse by removing violent partners from the family home is being scrapped by the Government as part of its drive to cut public spending.

Under the so-called “go orders” planned for England and Wales, senior police would have been given the power to act instantly to safeguard families they considered at threat.

Violent men would have been banned from their homes for up two weeks, giving their victims the chance to seek help to escape abuse.

But Theresa May, the Home Secretary, has decided to halt the scheme, which was due to be piloted this autumn and be rolled out nationwide next year, The Independent has learnt.”

This is not an invitation to post recipes

I hate cooking, with a vengeance, hence my standard reply of “shit from the freezer” when my poor unfortunate offspring ask what gastronomic delights I have in store for them on any particular day; and yet for some completely inexplicable reason I came back from France on Sunday night (where we stayed in the same place as last year, so I won’t bore you with the details or the holiday snaps) with a sodding crepe pan. And not just any old crepe pan I hasten to add, but a crepe pan that’s so fucking heavy I’m going to be in serious danger of breaking my wrist if I ever attempt to use it.

What can I say: it was the last day of the holiday; we were at a French market; up to that point I hadn’t managed to find anything I particularly wanted to buy and I always like to bring home some kind of memento from the places I visit (well, that’s my excuse for some of the bizarre items that litter my house anyway); and I really really like eating crepes.

I’m not convinced I’m going to really really enjoy cooking them though, but I’ll keep you posted on that score if and when I ever manage to make any.

But have no fear. My purchase of a crepe pan and my determination at some point in the dim and distant future to actually use said crepe pan to cook some actual crepes does not mean this blog is in any danger of turning into a cooking blog. And nor does it mean that I’m in imminent danger of turning into one of those retro 50′s housewifey types who seem to think that 21st Century women who are engaged in baking cupcakes, or knitting, or sewing, or any one of a number of other such ‘crafts’, are bravely reclaiming some kind of long lost feminist heritage or something. Because to put it bluntly, pull the other one, it’s got “you’ve been conned” written all over it.

Anyway, I’m back. From France. And I’ve got a new crepe pan. But take heed: this is not an invitation to post crepe recipes in the comments. I’d actually be more interested to hear what weird and wonderful objects you’ve brought back from your travels. And did you ever end up using them, or have they sat forlornly in a cupboard/on a shelf ever since you brought them home?

“What is it with women these days?”

Just like Raoul Moat, Mark Osler, who this week shot his ex partner twice in the head before turning the gun on himself, had a history of violence, in particular of violence against women. And just like Raoul Moat, Osler apparently gave clues as to his intentions before he eventually acted.

In both cases it seems police ignored warnings they’d been given; in Moat’s case from the prison authorities, and in Osler’s from his ex wife, who says she informed the police six weeks ago that this violent man, who would never legally be allowed to own a gun, had suddenly, somehow, managed to acquire one.

A couple of weeks ago Theresa May suggested that men with a history of domestic violence could soon face random visits from the police, after evidence emerged from the US showing that “random visits by police to homes where domestic violence had taken place resulted in a “significant decrease” in incidents.” According to the Telegraph, “In New York, domestic violence murders had fallen by 64 per cent after police started to pay visits to the homes of convicted abusers. Local police have said the home visits give the offenders a sense of being watched and gave the abused spouse or partner a feeling of having allies outside the home.”

Now I don’t know whether random visits would have helped or not in the two recent cases I’ve cited above, although I think it’s getting to the point now where anything’s worth a try. But what I do know is, you don’t have to be Sherlock fucking Holmes to work out that if the police had actually bothered to act on the tip-offs they’d already been given, things would in all probability have panned out quite differently.

It’s long been known to those who work in the field, and to the police and other authorities, that one of the most dangerous times for any woman involved in a violent relationship is the point at which she leaves and the period immediately following it. So it’s not simply a coincidence that both Moat and Osler shot their ex partners Samantha Stobbard and Rachel Puttock when their relationships had ended – it’s all part of a well-documented pattern of behaviour from serial domestic abusers like them. Okay, so the methods they employed may have been at the more extreme end of the scale, but the fact is that some form of violent retaliation against these two women was entirely predictable.

So I ask again, where the hell were the police?

If the Government is really serious about instructing the police to make random visits to the homes of abusive and violent men, maybe they should also think about  instructing them to provide protection for women who are trying to escape. And maybe they should also think about instructing them to follow up on the tip-offs they’re given, particularly when they know that the outcome of ignoring said tip-offs can potentially be so catastrophic.

But anyway, back to the title of this post. It’s actually taken from a comment left on a Sky News article about the Osler case. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Sky decided to completely trivialise the incident by heading the piece: “Gran With Pram Shot Twice In Head By Her Ex”, a commenter posting under the pseudonym “west norfolk” has a question to ask regarding women who go around getting themselves shot in the head:

“i went to school with mark, he was what most people describe as a lovable rogue, believe me this is not trying to excuse him, but what is it with women these days that can drive any man to this.”

I know I’ve said it before, but sometimes words really do fail me.

“Your cause is my cause”

As some of you may have sussed from my tweets, I was at the Women’s Aid National Conference at Warwick University last week. And I have to say, despite the fact that she’s a Tory, the highlight of the conference for me was Theresa May’s speech on Friday afternoon. I’ve reproduced it below and highlighted some of her key comments – now all we have to do is ensure she keeps to her word.

“Thank you first of all to Women’s Aid for inviting me to speak to your national conference. You have been supporting women for over 35 years and I am pleased to see that support is still strong. I am delighted also to be sharing a platform with Natalie Samarasinghe from the United Nations Association of the UK and with Ceri Goddard from the Fawcett Society. They – and all of you here – have dedicated your lives to helping women. It is my privilege to be able to talk to you today.

As both Home Secretary and Minister for Women and Equality, I believe I have a unique opportunity to bring about real change to the lives and to the status of women in this country.

My two roles are both important. Not just because I’m a woman. Not just because I can continue the work I started in opposition. But because, for me, politics is about ideals; about fighting for progress – and there is no greater ideal, no greater symbol of progress than equality.

As women and as a society we have made great strides. But there is much still to do.

Alongside the challenges of ending discrimination in the workplace, tackling the gender pay gap and genuinely empowering women, I am grateful that my brief means that I will be able to effect real change on an issue on which I have campaigned for many years.

Violence Against Women is not an aside for me; it is not an after-thought or a secondary consideration.

It was a priority for me in opposition and it is a priority for me now I am in government.

So have no fear – have no doubt – that your cause is my cause.

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Remembering

On July 7th 2005 I was in London. I was there to attend a meeting at the UNISON HQ building, which is at the corner of Euston Rd and Mabledon Place, about 400 metres from King’s Cross Station, and just a few streets away from both Tavistock Square and Russell Square. Unusually for me I’d taken the decision to travel down the night before and stay over at the Novotel, which is directly opposite UNISON HQ on Euston Rd: a random decision, but one for which I’ll always be grateful.

Anyway, these are just some snatches of my memories of that day, and of the days and weeks that followed.

I can remember:

Coming out of the hotel with a colleague at about 9.45am, and it suddenly registering that apart from emergency vehicles, there was none of the normal traffic on Euston Rd.

Glancing down towards King’s Cross, taking in all the flashing lights and sirens outside the station. Wondering why? What’s happened?

Crossing the road, and then stopping halfway to ask a police officer what was going on.

Him muttering something about a power surge in the underground system, but then as we were still standing with him, a noise in the near distance. A bang? A thud? What was it?

Another police officer suddenly sprinting past us, shouting “Shit! Another one’s gone off!”

Standing there, in the middle of Euston Rd, wanting to shout back “What? Another what’s gone off?” but being too scared to.

Looking back at the officer we’d been talking to, and realising he’d been lying to us. Him asking us “Where are you going?” Me, pointing at the UNISON building, and then him “You’d better get inside then.”

I can remember:

Other women arriving for the meeting. Lots of talking, speculating, about what was going on in the streets outside.

Someone starting the meeting, but then an interruption. Someone telling us that everyone in the building would be assembling in the conference room soon, the General Secretary was coming to talk to us all.

The room filling up. More talking, more speculation. And then Dave Prentis was there.

Hearing him say that there’d been bombs. There’d been bombs on the underground. And a bus blown up. Just round the corner.

Thinking. That noise. That bang. When we were crossing the road. What was it?

People asking – has everyone you were expecting turned up today? Is anyone missing? Then people taking phone numbers, wanting our details. “Do not leave the building” they said. It was an instruction from the police they said. We were in the exclusion zone, the area had been completely sealed off, but we weren’t being evacuated for now, we had to stay put.

The room emptying again.

And then people complaining. Wanting us to get on with the meeting. “We’re all here” they said “we may as well just carry on with it.”

Thinking no. We can’t do this. Not now. Not today.

The meeting being abandoned. Women sitting around instead on desks and chairs, talking, reassuring each other. Then some of them leaving. Ignoring the instruction to stay put. Heading back to airports. “We’ll take the chance” they said.

And me. Too scared to go anywhere for a while. I’m not leaving. Not yet. Not until I’m told it’s safe.

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