Ben is perfectly likeable young man in a shared house who has been paying his rent and is looking for work, which is a bit tough to come by right now. An almost complete stranger beat him up on the street and made him homeless.
The thug came to their house, entered their home, evicted them onto the streets and changed the locks . I call him advisedly a thug, for this was no bailiff enforcing an order of the court here. Here was a landlord who couldn't be bothered to use a method which was relatively quick, easy, cheap and legal, and take them to court.
Ronnie and Bill have had their ups and downs. They're from Europe, work all the time, take care of an old man from Uzbekhistan who has been crippled by a stroke. Bill has too much to drink and hits Ronnie. He spends 3 days in the nick, so he hasn't got wages. Ronnie gives the landlord the money in her purse.
The thug turns up and pushed the stroke victim onto the street. I call him a thug advisedly. But yet again, he is the landlord. A lazy landlord, with no time for law.
At a time when unemployment figures are shooting up, even Germany has growth in the toilet, and a remarkable thing is happening.
In a usual year I may get one illegal eviction. In the last two weeks I have had four. It may be that this sort of criminal activity happens all the time, and I miss it, but after 17 years working here my bush telegraph is tired, but there. It reminds me of what social welfare law is for when I see it happen.
Landlords are suddenly chucking their tenants onto the streets. Without going to court. Without doing the things that the Council Advice and Options Service would recommend, to make sure that the process is legal.
I am frazzled. On the day that we get a re-entry order against a very big housing association, the Pembury Estate burns a vehicle or two. Then when I check online I am told by the Prime Minister that the causes of the break-down of law and order is “criminality pure and simple.”
Recently our PM qualified his reasoning. He indicated that bad human rights lawyers were "twisting and misrepresenting human rights in a way that has undermined personal responsibility" which apparently is exerting "a corrosive influence on behaviour and morality" which was the cause for the riots. Assuming there was a cause.
So.
It seems that by going to court and getting a widow back into her home, I am contributing to the lawlessness on Lower Clapton Road.
Sorry mister Prime Minister. I will try to fight the Illegal evictions that are happening. One at a time, all the time. The good ship Legal Aid will not founder upon your watch, I'm hoping.
Friday, 19 August 2011
Illegal Evictions- It's Poverty Stupid!
Ben is perfectly likeable young man in a shared house who has been paying his rent and is looking for work, which is a bit tough to come by right now. An almost complete stranger beat him up on the street and made him homeless.
The thug came to their house, entered their home, evicted them onto the streets and changed the locks . I call him advisedly a thug, for this was no bailiff, enforcing an order of the court here. Here was a landlord who couldn't be bothered to use a method which was relatively quick, easy, cheap and legal.
Ronnie and Bill have had their ups and downs. They're from Europe, work all the time, take care of an old man from Uzbekhistan who has been crippled by a stroke. Bill has too much to drink and hits Ronnie. He spends 3 days in the nick, so he hasn't got wages. Ronnie gives the landlord the money in her purse.
The thug turns up and pushed the stroke victim onto the street. I call him a thug advisedly. But yet again, he is the landlord. A lazy landlord, with no time for law.
At a time when unemployment figures are shooting up, even Germany has growth in the toilet, and a remarkable thing is happening.
In a usual year I may get one illegal eviction. In the last two weeks I have had four. It may be that this sort of criminal activity happens all the time, and I miss it, but after 17 years working here my bush telegraph is tired, but there. It reminds me of what social welfare law is for when I see it happen.
Landlords are suddenly chucking their tenants onto the streets. Without going to court. Without doing the things that the Council Advice and Options Service would recommend, to make sure that the process is legal.
I am frazzled. On the day that we get a re-entry order against a very big housing association, the Pembury Estate burns a vehicle or two. Then when I check online I am told by the Prime Minister that the causes of the break-down of law and order is “criminality pure and simple.”
Recently our Prime Minister qualified his reasoning. He indicated that bad human rights lawyers were "twisting and misrepresenting human rights in a way that has undermined personal responsibility" which apparently is exerting "a corrosive influence on behaviour and morality" which was the cause for the riots. Assuming there was a cause.
So.
It seems that by going to court and getting a widow who had been bamboozled onto the street into her home, I am contributing to the lawlessness on Lower Clapton Road. So silly of me, why didn't I think?
Why is it that landlords have, in many cases, taken to behaving like thugs? Is it criminality pure and simple? I think not. It's Poverty Stupid!
Sorry mister Prime Minister. I will try to fight the illegal evictions that are happening. One at a time, all the time. The good ship Legal Aid will not founder upon your watch, I'm hoping, although the signs are not good. Someone's got to keep law and order round here!
The thug came to their house, entered their home, evicted them onto the streets and changed the locks . I call him advisedly a thug, for this was no bailiff, enforcing an order of the court here. Here was a landlord who couldn't be bothered to use a method which was relatively quick, easy, cheap and legal.
Ronnie and Bill have had their ups and downs. They're from Europe, work all the time, take care of an old man from Uzbekhistan who has been crippled by a stroke. Bill has too much to drink and hits Ronnie. He spends 3 days in the nick, so he hasn't got wages. Ronnie gives the landlord the money in her purse.
The thug turns up and pushed the stroke victim onto the street. I call him a thug advisedly. But yet again, he is the landlord. A lazy landlord, with no time for law.
At a time when unemployment figures are shooting up, even Germany has growth in the toilet, and a remarkable thing is happening.
In a usual year I may get one illegal eviction. In the last two weeks I have had four. It may be that this sort of criminal activity happens all the time, and I miss it, but after 17 years working here my bush telegraph is tired, but there. It reminds me of what social welfare law is for when I see it happen.
Landlords are suddenly chucking their tenants onto the streets. Without going to court. Without doing the things that the Council Advice and Options Service would recommend, to make sure that the process is legal.
I am frazzled. On the day that we get a re-entry order against a very big housing association, the Pembury Estate burns a vehicle or two. Then when I check online I am told by the Prime Minister that the causes of the break-down of law and order is “criminality pure and simple.”
Recently our Prime Minister qualified his reasoning. He indicated that bad human rights lawyers were "twisting and misrepresenting human rights in a way that has undermined personal responsibility" which apparently is exerting "a corrosive influence on behaviour and morality" which was the cause for the riots. Assuming there was a cause.
So.
It seems that by going to court and getting a widow who had been bamboozled onto the street into her home, I am contributing to the lawlessness on Lower Clapton Road. So silly of me, why didn't I think?
Why is it that landlords have, in many cases, taken to behaving like thugs? Is it criminality pure and simple? I think not. It's Poverty Stupid!
Sorry mister Prime Minister. I will try to fight the illegal evictions that are happening. One at a time, all the time. The good ship Legal Aid will not founder upon your watch, I'm hoping, although the signs are not good. Someone's got to keep law and order round here!
Monday, 15 August 2011
Peace March
The big police officer with the sandy beard is down from Norfolk. I ask him how many people there are marching and he's not sure. “This is a bit bigger than we're used to” he jokes.
We conclude that about 1,000 people had started in Dalston Kingsland and arrived in front of Tottenham Town Hall.
It started off quite small in Gillette Square, a stone's throw from the famous stand of the Turkish and Kurdish shopkeepers against thugs and looters. People kept arriving. You know, people.
Cameras circulate, looking for stories.
A white lad who must have been about 15 said he thought setting fire to shops was wrong, and also he had found it hard working for nothing for 3 weeks and then being told at the end of it that he had no job.
An Englishman with a beard talks in Spanish trying to explain why he thinks social deprivation in pockets of the richest city in the world might have been caused by economic problems.
A Kurdish woman in a black t-shirt participates in an organisers meeting where it's assumed that this is a peaceful march, and they agree on sensible rules.
One minute of silence is observed, more or less. Waves of hush settle on the crowd for the dead, the 6 people killed so far. People shout in whisper “Have some respect!” The crowd silences .
Then we march off. North to Tottenham.
We march only two miles, but when you're shuffling very slowly your feet hurt. It's the museum shuffle, a young woman tells me, and an old man confirms.
The best chants are all about rhythm. Oghie Oghie , Aye, Aye Aye!
The best of the chants were “Keep our kids in youth clubs , not in Jail!” Go on, try it. The next best was “The bankers are the looters, Give our kids a future!” Better rhyming.
At the front of it all were children with flowers. Dozens of cameras glided like insects.
The worst of the chants were “Stop the Police murderers, disband the police force!” Well yes, if we disband the police we know that all murders will not have been caused by the police, because there are no police. I suspect there would be more murders without the police, but then, who'd be counting?
Finally as we approach Tottenham Town Hall we get on message. "Give our Kids a future" is the rallying cry. Some locals look apprehensive, but others clap.
And we get there. And people of good sense speak. And a young Afro Caribbean woman speak and and says “Is there Love”
And we say “Love”.
Damn, I'm going to turn in my cynic's card and sign up to be a hippy.
Although we were carpeted with cameras, almost no mention in the media the next day. Well, the "Morning Star." And in the Sunday Indie an article by David Lammy, MP for one of the worst affected areas, has a picture of the adorable kids with flowers- and a caption saying it was from an anti English Defence League march in Telford. It seems good news is no news, and adds weight to the view that it's only when riots start happening that serious attention is given to inner city deprivation.
On the way home I stop to talk to a grizzled police officer at London Bridge. Turns out he's up from Folkstone. “This is a bit bigger than we're used to” he jokes.
We conclude that about 1,000 people had started in Dalston Kingsland and arrived in front of Tottenham Town Hall.
It started off quite small in Gillette Square, a stone's throw from the famous stand of the Turkish and Kurdish shopkeepers against thugs and looters. People kept arriving. You know, people.
Cameras circulate, looking for stories.
A white lad who must have been about 15 said he thought setting fire to shops was wrong, and also he had found it hard working for nothing for 3 weeks and then being told at the end of it that he had no job.
An Englishman with a beard talks in Spanish trying to explain why he thinks social deprivation in pockets of the richest city in the world might have been caused by economic problems.
A Kurdish woman in a black t-shirt participates in an organisers meeting where it's assumed that this is a peaceful march, and they agree on sensible rules.
One minute of silence is observed, more or less. Waves of hush settle on the crowd for the dead, the 6 people killed so far. People shout in whisper “Have some respect!” The crowd silences .
Then we march off. North to Tottenham.
We march only two miles, but when you're shuffling very slowly your feet hurt. It's the museum shuffle, a young woman tells me, and an old man confirms.
The best chants are all about rhythm. Oghie Oghie , Aye, Aye Aye!
The best of the chants were “Keep our kids in youth clubs , not in Jail!” Go on, try it. The next best was “The bankers are the looters, Give our kids a future!” Better rhyming.
At the front of it all were children with flowers. Dozens of cameras glided like insects.
The worst of the chants were “Stop the Police murderers, disband the police force!” Well yes, if we disband the police we know that all murders will not have been caused by the police, because there are no police. I suspect there would be more murders without the police, but then, who'd be counting?
Finally as we approach Tottenham Town Hall we get on message. "Give our Kids a future" is the rallying cry. Some locals look apprehensive, but others clap.
And we get there. And people of good sense speak. And a young Afro Caribbean woman speak and and says “Is there Love”
And we say “Love”.
Damn, I'm going to turn in my cynic's card and sign up to be a hippy.
Although we were carpeted with cameras, almost no mention in the media the next day. Well, the "Morning Star." And in the Sunday Indie an article by David Lammy, MP for one of the worst affected areas, has a picture of the adorable kids with flowers- and a caption saying it was from an anti English Defence League march in Telford. It seems good news is no news, and adds weight to the view that it's only when riots start happening that serious attention is given to inner city deprivation.
On the way home I stop to talk to a grizzled police officer at London Bridge. Turns out he's up from Folkstone. “This is a bit bigger than we're used to” he jokes.
Wednesday, 10 August 2011
Transparent Like Bullshit
Transparent like Bullshit
I see a woman with three children and a disabled husband.
She has been living in emergency accommodation since April, after her eviction, and has duly completed all the Housing Benefit forms required. She has two letters from Housing Benefit saying the rent is being paid for, and that they are sending the rent to her old landlord. This is an extreme waste of money as she is not living at her old home any more.
Another letter informs her that the agency housing her is on the point of evicting her, as she owes 5 months' rent.
I call the Council, spend an hour or so explaining our client's problems, and am told that no public money has been misspent, the file was suspended all the time. I am told that the letters that she has received were “generated in error by the system”.
I see a young woman who was trafficked into the UK for domestic slavery as a child, who after a 7 year wait has the right to be in this country. She's being evicted onto the street.
She has two letters . One gives her refugee status, one discretionary leave to remain. I'm no immigration lawyer, but when the official calls you and asks you to destroy one of the letters, my alarm bells go to ultra red.
Legal Aid cuts are aimed at the work that local charities do, because they say, there is no need for knowledge of the law for our work.
I say to you, there is a chord that binds us all together. A chord of wisdom and respect, letting the elder and the child speak, letting us all speak. Justice will not be silenced. Yet if social welfare law is extinguished, ordinary people with extraordinary problems will be diddled right and left, and all of us will suffer.
I see a woman with three children and a disabled husband.
She has been living in emergency accommodation since April, after her eviction, and has duly completed all the Housing Benefit forms required. She has two letters from Housing Benefit saying the rent is being paid for, and that they are sending the rent to her old landlord. This is an extreme waste of money as she is not living at her old home any more.
Another letter informs her that the agency housing her is on the point of evicting her, as she owes 5 months' rent.
I call the Council, spend an hour or so explaining our client's problems, and am told that no public money has been misspent, the file was suspended all the time. I am told that the letters that she has received were “generated in error by the system”.
I see a young woman who was trafficked into the UK for domestic slavery as a child, who after a 7 year wait has the right to be in this country. She's being evicted onto the street.
She has two letters . One gives her refugee status, one discretionary leave to remain. I'm no immigration lawyer, but when the official calls you and asks you to destroy one of the letters, my alarm bells go to ultra red.
Legal Aid cuts are aimed at the work that local charities do, because they say, there is no need for knowledge of the law for our work.
I say to you, there is a chord that binds us all together. A chord of wisdom and respect, letting the elder and the child speak, letting us all speak. Justice will not be silenced. Yet if social welfare law is extinguished, ordinary people with extraordinary problems will be diddled right and left, and all of us will suffer.
Tuesday, 9 August 2011
London Burns
Val, a committed and likeable legal executive is virtually in tears by Monday. Her house, off Haringey High Road is ground zero for the riots that exploded over the weekend.
Violence unfolded suddenly and unexpectedly on Saturday . One minute she was observing a small crowd outside Tottenham Police station who had assembled to demand answers over the death of a young man at the hands of the police, in circumstances which are still murky. Val then noticed a low-flying helicopter, and wondering vaguely whether there was a search on for a lost child,
she left to pick up a prescription from the chemist. By the time she got there the shop was being looted, and she ran for home.
All night she heard screaming and yells, and she got up sleepless to see her neighbourhood transformed into a moonscape. Beautiful listed buildings recently restored with great love (Haringey has more of these than anywhere in London) had been torched. Shops were looted, an entire row of mixed shops and residential building had gone up in flames, a neighbour's car had been burnt out.
The 89 year old barber who cuts her partner's hair was staring forlornly at the shattered windows of his tiny shop-front, where he seems to have worked time out of mind.
The staff are shocked, clients keep piling in and the work won't do itself so we get on with it.
Round one o'clock word gets round that there's an organised meet in Hackney. Kim and I go out to do an early post run and half the businesses including the Post Office have their shutters down. Shoppers and staff are drifting about aimlessly.
We elect to stay open in a frenzy of emergency applications, notices, pleadings, letters and client interviews- just another day at the office. Suddenly the TV's got live coverage of police lines 200 yards from our doorstep.
As buses close Red Pepper rescues us five in a car and gets us south of the river, like desperadoes catching the last stage coach out of Utah. A young woman on my train closes her phone and looks worried. “They've closed down the buses in Peckham.”
And so all night stuck to the screens. Burning cars in Lewisham and Hackney, an inferno as another carpet shop went up in Croydon, most unforgivably, a building in Peckham, again a shop with flats above. The police cordon in Lower Clapton Road stands right next to Marina's, greasy spoon of the world, and our local diner.
Today has been surprisingly quiet. A few broken windows in Mare Sreet and Narrow Way, about half of blinds down, no broken glass or burned out anything in sight, and 100 volunteers turn up outside the Town Hall to help. By lunchtime 90% of everything is closed though, including the banks.
Commerce goes out of Hackney with a whoosh, and London holds its breath.
No jobs, slashed benefits and services, rising cost of living, scrapping the lifeline EMA allowance that helps poor kids stay on in college and off the streets, yanking the price of a university education out of people's reach and dreams, it's not difficult to find the potent ingredients that made up this fire-bomb; the only question all along has not been if, only when.
Only a fool or a criminal would take pleasure at the sight of our communities burning down their workplaces,job-centres, and ancient buildings. Only a blind man could not have seen this coming somewhere down the road.
Violence unfolded suddenly and unexpectedly on Saturday . One minute she was observing a small crowd outside Tottenham Police station who had assembled to demand answers over the death of a young man at the hands of the police, in circumstances which are still murky. Val then noticed a low-flying helicopter, and wondering vaguely whether there was a search on for a lost child,
she left to pick up a prescription from the chemist. By the time she got there the shop was being looted, and she ran for home.
All night she heard screaming and yells, and she got up sleepless to see her neighbourhood transformed into a moonscape. Beautiful listed buildings recently restored with great love (Haringey has more of these than anywhere in London) had been torched. Shops were looted, an entire row of mixed shops and residential building had gone up in flames, a neighbour's car had been burnt out.
The 89 year old barber who cuts her partner's hair was staring forlornly at the shattered windows of his tiny shop-front, where he seems to have worked time out of mind.
The staff are shocked, clients keep piling in and the work won't do itself so we get on with it.
Round one o'clock word gets round that there's an organised meet in Hackney. Kim and I go out to do an early post run and half the businesses including the Post Office have their shutters down. Shoppers and staff are drifting about aimlessly.
We elect to stay open in a frenzy of emergency applications, notices, pleadings, letters and client interviews- just another day at the office. Suddenly the TV's got live coverage of police lines 200 yards from our doorstep.
As buses close Red Pepper rescues us five in a car and gets us south of the river, like desperadoes catching the last stage coach out of Utah. A young woman on my train closes her phone and looks worried. “They've closed down the buses in Peckham.”
And so all night stuck to the screens. Burning cars in Lewisham and Hackney, an inferno as another carpet shop went up in Croydon, most unforgivably, a building in Peckham, again a shop with flats above. The police cordon in Lower Clapton Road stands right next to Marina's, greasy spoon of the world, and our local diner.
Today has been surprisingly quiet. A few broken windows in Mare Sreet and Narrow Way, about half of blinds down, no broken glass or burned out anything in sight, and 100 volunteers turn up outside the Town Hall to help. By lunchtime 90% of everything is closed though, including the banks.
Commerce goes out of Hackney with a whoosh, and London holds its breath.
No jobs, slashed benefits and services, rising cost of living, scrapping the lifeline EMA allowance that helps poor kids stay on in college and off the streets, yanking the price of a university education out of people's reach and dreams, it's not difficult to find the potent ingredients that made up this fire-bomb; the only question all along has not been if, only when.
Only a fool or a criminal would take pleasure at the sight of our communities burning down their workplaces,job-centres, and ancient buildings. Only a blind man could not have seen this coming somewhere down the road.
Wednesday, 3 August 2011
There Is Rope, Or A Chord, That Binds Us All Together.
There is rope, or a chord, that binds us all together.
I have 200 cases and yet with the holes in my pockets I shuffle past
Bums begging a smoke at the beginning of the month on London Bridge,
I look into the rushing water, and my bag grows light, so easy to see the papers flying,
Gulls settling on the waters. Alone at last, at the Fridge
I might have kissed a bonny boy; I did once, but if I am lying, fire
Burnt the silver roads into your heart. The drum beat slows and rests a breath
Great heart, weave your threads lightning quick or we are lost,
Bitter tears others may weep, yet silence shall ever treat you gently.
With fire of reason shall our liberties be restored, loving kindness at the last
May lead us to an old man in rags who once spoke wit and wisdom, a bag of tricks, fire in a chestnut.
I have 200 cases and yet with the holes in my pockets I shuffle past
Bums begging a smoke at the beginning of the month on London Bridge,
I look into the rushing water, and my bag grows light, so easy to see the papers flying,
Gulls settling on the waters. Alone at last, at the Fridge
I might have kissed a bonny boy; I did once, but if I am lying, fire
Burnt the silver roads into your heart. The drum beat slows and rests a breath
Great heart, weave your threads lightning quick or we are lost,
Bitter tears others may weep, yet silence shall ever treat you gently.
With fire of reason shall our liberties be restored, loving kindness at the last
May lead us to an old man in rags who once spoke wit and wisdom, a bag of tricks, fire in a chestnut.
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