Newsflash

From the East Grinstead Echo

Notorious burglar Vince ‘The Cat’ Lifter was arrested on Monday morning when a security guard found him wedged in the ventilation shaft in Carpet World, where it turned out he had been all weekend. He had become stuck trying to break through into the Cash Converters next door after forgetting to make allowances for his backpack.

Vince had only recently been released from prison after serving two years for the theft of a pair of £1000 hand-made leather trousers belonging to a well-known politician. In his defence he claimed that he was going to sell them and redistribute the money to the local homeless. He was only caught because the politician who owned the trousers was wearing them at the time.

Born in East Grinstead as Richard Lifter, he changed his name by deed poll to Vince (after a beloved uncle) as he felt Dick Lifter created entirely the wrong impression for one embarking on a serious life of crime.

Vince claimed there is no truth in the rumour that he was caught on purpose as he had become rather fond of the prison chaplain.

Patricia's Had Enough

This is 'what I wrote' at Mondays (8 April 2013) gathering of Write Night. We split into pairs and discussed our work environment, then wrote for thirty minutes about a fictitious situation set in that environment where the person was dissatisfied with the job. Patricia is a fictitious person too

 

Surveying the empty classroom at the end of the day, when all of the children had gone home, Patricia was struck by one inescapable fact. How much she hated it. Immediately her mind went into its teacher mode, 'Hate is a very strong word Pat'. She had to admit to herself that whatever the word was, and plenty were now coming into her mind, she just didn't want to be there. At all.
There were the dreams she was having about driving a busload of children over the edge of a cliff, that was on the nights when she could sleep, when the fear of another Ofsted inspection or complaint or grievance wasn't keeping her awake.
Patricia remembered all those years she had trained and fantasised about being a teacher, the nobility of the profession and the good she was doing for people and their lives, worn away by the day to day reality of doing the job.
The classroom she had tried so hard to personalise and make into a creative learning environment with the examples of students work, past and present, some interesting quotes and art, the Blob Tree that she used so often to encourage some self awareness in her students. None of it seemed to matter. The room was cold. The paint was peeling. It smelt of the large numbers of bodies that had been there that day, most of them against their will and boy didn't they let her know it. Repeatedly. Loudly. Aggressively.
It struck her how much it felt like a prison. Ok not the typical one with a bed and a toilet, but nonetheless she felt trapped by it. Confined. Controlled. She was in urgent need of an escape plan. In that moment Patricia was seriously considering setting fire to it and burning it to the ground.  Imagining what, if anything, she would keep (answer nothing) and could picture clearly the headlines in tomorrow's paper. The scandal. The shame. But mostly the sheer joy she would feel. The release. The service she would be doing to humanity.
It was time to look for another job.

Stuff about reading and then one thing leads to another and I'm off down another road.

Recently I read James Herbert's latest offering Ash, followed by the new Carlos Ruiz Zafon book The Prisoner of Heaven, third in his Cemetery of Forgotten Books series (they are a delight). Then I read a short story by Stephen King called The Doctor's Case, a Sherlock Holmes story where Doctor Watson solves the mystery (found in his third short story collection Nightmares and Dreamscapes).

Currently I am engrossed in the unputdownable The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce, a wonderfully touching story of simple humanity.

Why am I bothering you with this information I hear you cry (or was it bugger off Jonathan I'm busy and not the slightest bit interested in what you are reading).

Well, two reasons actually.

Firstly I love reading and, just as much (maybe even more) I love to talk about books I have read and to hear from others about their reading adventures. I used to be in a reading group, many years ago, and loved it. And I miss it.

Secondly, all the books I mentioned above are borrowed from my local library, and I love libraries as much as I love reading. I worked in the library service for eleven years. And that's exactly what it is. A public service. There for the public. To serve them.

I visited Chelmsford prison library once, because I had the opportunity and was interested. Something very interesting came from that visit and it was the statistic that, amongst the prison population the general literacy level can be low, compared to society in general and, alongside that, the reoffending rate (those who get out of prison and then commit more crimes and go back in) is high (around the 80% region if I recall).

Quick summary 1: Low literacy levels = high offending and reoffending rate.

Now then, before we get all panicky and upset let me ensure you I am not saying that this explains the whole history of crime and offers a simple solution. And I am not saying either that all those who commit crimes are thick or can't read. I am making an observation that there are proven links between low literacy levels (the ability to read and write) and crime. Especially amongst the young and the poor. As well as not doing very well in life, underachieving, etc.

Books, access to books, and the sheer pleasure of reading have benefits beyond just the sheer pleasure of reading. They inform, educate, challenge, stimulate discussion and provide jobs and subjects for study at school, university or when home alone.  Also I recall an interview with Michael Caine (Sir Michael?) with him saying how important libraries were to him as a means of learning about the world when schooling hadn't provided it (Sean Connery said the same).

Quick summary 2: Books and libraries (a means of accessing books) can open doorways to higher literacy levels, improve confidence and help people to achieve, in life. And maybe steer people away from crime? Not all crime of course, not serious, planned crime (It's alarming actually how intelligent some criminals are, super intelligent even, but maybe that's another issue).

Libraries also provide access to the internet, another public service. Everything is going online now. Try booking something, or finding a job. More and more public services are going online. Not everyone has access to the interweb at home.

And what do we have going on currently, amongst other things? Funding cuts and library closures. So we have a situation where, in response to criminal negligence and mishandling of (other peoples) money by governments and financial institutions we are in a financial crises. To alleviate this we bring in 'austerity' measures, cut funding to public services which leads to job losses then, get this, start publicly abusing those who have lost their jobs and call them scroungers and workshy. And punish them by removing benefits etc when they can't find a job. Even though there are less jobs to find.

To find a job you need internet access (did I say that already?). If you have lost your job and can't afford internet access you can get internet access free from libraries. So let's close libraries then, they only provide stuffy old books and no one reads books anymore everything is online and downloadable.

Ah right. Ok. And the madness goes on. And on. I wonder sometimes if our current (unelected) coalition 'government' really wants people to have jobs and needs a certain amount of unemployed and poor to create fear and to make themselves feel wealthy and superior. No. Surely not. Just me being cynical and grumpy.

Makes me want to go to the library (while it is still there) and reach for the next book. Maybe even write one!