Teenager Ben Kinsella Murdered in Holloway, London 30 June 2008

Our friends brought their two year old son round to play with our little boy, yesterday. It was a beautiful summer day: the sun warm and bright. The lawn was newly mown, and the flowers in tubs and pots around our decking were looking lovely.

We played in the garden, and ate lunch together round the table. Then we dads took the boys out in their buggies for a walk in the sunshine, and to get them off to sleep for afternoon naps.

Unusually, as we walked along the road, there was a crowd at the end of our street. Two crowds – girls on one side of the road, boys on the other. And police tape. Police cars. Photographers.

As we approached the scene, a feeling of tension in the air. My friend ventured a guess before we got close enough to see anything more of the scene that lay around the corner. He had seen the the blue and white police tape strung across the road, and flapping in the breeze. “Do you think it’s another stabbing?”.

Forensic officers in white paper suits moved quickly back and forth, behind a cordon of police officers, who were diverting traffic and answering enquiries from concerned pedestrians.

The story unfolded on the television knews later that day. At around 2am on Sunday morning, 16 year old Ben Kinsella became the 17th teenager murdered in London’s streets this year [murder of teenager Ben Kinsella]. He’d been stabbed following a fight at a local bar and nightspot, popular with young people from across the area.

Reports today say that Ben may not even have been involved in the argument in the bar, but that he had been chased by a group of youths after running away from potential trouble.

Last year (2007), 27 teenagers were killed on London’s streets. 18 were stabbed to death, 8 were shot and one was beaten. This unprecedented level of violence prompted calls for new measures to deal with London’s teenage gang, knife and gun crime problem. But the trend has continued into 2008 [London's teenage murder victims 2008].

The victims of this year’s tally have been between 14 and 19 years of age. Despite police and media focus on teenage knife crime, in most cases it appears that their assailants have been older than their victims. At least three involved assailants in their twenties, and one a 45 year old man. This may be more about a rise in cases of fatal violence against teenagers, rather than an increase in teenage violence [questions asked over teen murders].

The issue has been sensationalised by a media eager to exploit public fears [the truth about street weapons].

But that won’t be any comfort to the 17 families who have lost a son or daughter to violence in London in the year so far, or to the others who will inevitably suffer similar loss as the year goes on.

My eldest son is 15. Just a year younger than Ben. How much should I be concerned for him? Or for his sister (now 13) and baby brother (2)? Can we let our hearts go out to the families affected by this violence, yet accept it, assuming that statistically it is unlikely to happen to our own?

Blog meme – about me 15 June 2008

Haille tagged me with this blog meme.

I had to google it to understand what a blog meme is. Hey - I’m new at this. Anyway, I’m not sure I like the idea of turning my blog into a magazine quiz, but it did look like one way of telling you a little more about me, without the usual requirement for thought and drafting.

Oh, and I had already added a link to Hallie’s blog in my last post, so this is gonna look like overkill.

Anyway, I’m not going to answer all of the questions in this meme, just the ones I think you might be interested in.

1. What were you doing five years ago?

Still trying to make my first marriage work. Gainfully employed (I’m now a freelancer). Living with my kids (now a weekend dad).

2. What are five things on your to-do list today?

Got to collect my eldest son from a weekend long army cadets camp (a 100 mile round trip to the kids house), spend some quality time with all three kids, spend some time with my brother in law and father in law (birthday celebrations this weekend), try to keep things cool with my wife, prepare for work on Monday.

6. Five places you have lived.

Near Edinburgh, Glasgow, South London, Hampshire, North London.

7. Five jobs that you’ve had?

Bookmaker, warehouseman, driver, engineer, rocket scientist, team leader, cost engineer, advisor, coach, consultant, project manager, trainer, interim manager.

8. How did you name your blog?

It seemed to sum up what I wanted to write about – the ideal of relationships, and the reality, as I see it – of trouble in paradise.

Family isn’t a word, its a sentence 15 June 2008

We’re not totally disfunctional, my family.

I mean, there’s the stuff I mentioned about my father, okay, but that’s it.

Oh, and my wife not talking to me [send me to coventry]. And maybe we haven’t .. you know .. much. Since the baby. Actually, I mean, since he was conceived. And only once since he was born. He’s nearly two now.

I haven’t mentioned my daughter in this blog yet. She is struggling (make that refusing) to accept her stepfather, since her mother re-married last year. She still lives with them, but she really has made it difficult for her mother and her new husband. She’s just about to turn thirteen, though, so maybe she was going to be difficult anyway.

And, I’m not cool with her mother (my first wife) anyway.

Upside for me is that my daughter is keen to spend more time with us. As a result, she has really bonded with her baby brother.

So why was I so struck by the title of the post I saw the other day - family isn’t a word, its a sentence? It really struck a nerve with me.

I linked to Hallie’s blog in my last post, but just I read something she wrote a year ago [hard questions]. Hardly anyone seems to make a relationship work anymore. Even when there are kids involved.

Family relationships can be difficult. And sometimes it does feel like a life sentence, trying to make a marriage work. Trying to keep a family together.

I heard a little boy in a playground the other day, ask a little girl “What’s your step-father’s name”. She said “I don’t have a step-father”. And he said “Yes you do. Everybody’s got a step-father!”. How I wish that wasn’t nearly true.

My son wants to join the army 12 June 2008

I remember the feeling of awe and wonder when I first held him in my arms. My baby boy. My amazing, miracle, tiny baby. My life – right there in my arms. And for months I couldn’t put him down. Oh, he woke up in the night, suffered from the most frightening colic, seemed so amazingly fragile. But that was just an excuse ! I wanted to hold him to me, keep him warm and safe, smell his baby smell and the softness of his touch.

As he grew he went through chubby cute, to lisping cute, to playing with his willy [he's not alone - the balls update], to undressing little girls (frowned upon), and so on. He turned out to be strong willed, and clever. So he has been in his share of trouble.

And when our marriage broke-down he went a little wild for a time. But he seems to be back on track.

Fifteen. He has a cute little girlfriend. More friends than I can count, actually. Independent. Doing well at school. Studying hard, but trying not to be a geek. He is really. He’s good at science and maths. He thinks he might want to study engineering at University.

And now he thinks he’d like to join the army. Maybe go for an commission as an officer.

I have some sympathy with that. There’s a lot of benefit in learning self discipline, and the sort of teamwork you only learn in the armed forces [Why every man should serve in the army]. Then there’s the adventure, and the feeling of serving your country. In practice, a soldier’s adventure might be anyone elses nightmare [one soldier's account].

My son and I had a conversation last week about this. He spoke about bravery and courage, but with perspective of a child who has never seen or contemplated loss.

I considered taking the same career path myself. Finding a girl and seeing that she wasn’t cut out to be an army wife [army wives] helped me make up my mind. So I pursued a career in civvy street.

Part of me would like him to have that opportunity, of course. But part of me dreads knowing that he could be put in harms way [our sons]. And that too many young people have chosen to serve their countries, and paid the ultimate price [too close to home].

My thoughts are with all of the military personnel and civilians whose lives have been touched by armed conflict around the world. But my worry is for my own son. My baby.

About my father 10 June 2008

My parents live about 400 miles from us. Which is not a lot, as distances go. Less than a day by train or car. And my parents have recently retired, which maybe should have meant that I would be seeing more of them. But they seem to be too busy, too afraid of coming to the big city, too reluctant to to disturb the routine with their dog and their neighbours and their own friends.

I have a job, and a wife and three kids, two of whom don’t live with us full time but visit weekends. Somehow my folks are missing out on developing a close relationship with their grandchildren. And I’m not spending as much time as I’d like with my father.

A lot of it is about the dog. Dad thinks (and has said on more than one occassion) that the dog is his baby, his youngest child. He thinks that the dog, my brother and I are siblings. He won’t come to visit without the dog, and my wife is allergic to them.

I don’t know whether the dog is just an excuse though. My parents get the dog looked after maybe two to four times a year when they go on holiday. I don’t know why they can’t do that and come and spend a week here. I’d like to spend a little more time with Dad without the dog.

Part of me is surprised to find that as a grown man (and I’m now in my 40s !) I still feel the need for a parent. Its not that I was ever neglected as a child. My parents were close, family oriented. This distance has grown between us during the years of work, marriage and family. Strange, really. I’d have thought that having three grandchildren might have pulled us closer together, but maybe during that time we have been living such seperate lives. The breakdown of my first marriage didn’t help. But why hasn’t it gotten better?

It’s time we started a dialogue, don’t you think, reader?

What is it that I’m missing, and is it the same for you?