One word, five letters and a whole new outlook

'Sorry'; it’s such a tiny word when you look at it but sometimes it’s an enormous word to say. On a personal level it can be difficult to say because pride gets in the way. On a professional level uttering such a word can leave you open to doubts over competency, even disciplinary proceedings and at worst moves for compensation against you or the organisation that you work for. Yet when people ask what is it that you want to achieve my complaining, most respond that all that is needed and wanted is an acknowledgment that something did go wrong and an apology, that little word ‘sorry’. No compensation is required. Just five letters in one word that together say 'sorry'.

I’ve said before that receiving a complaint gives a person, organisation, service, company an opportunity to pause and reflect. Few actually do this; instead they defend the indefensible to their own detriment and also to that of the person who made the complaint, making a negative process even more negative when it could be a creative and positive process.

Last week we discovered that the failure of WM Police to attend Aiden’s accident was not down to WMAS as we had been led to believe but down to someone in Police Control making a decision without having the full information they needed to make that decision. It had been a difficult voyage to make that discovery because we were thwarted by WMAS trying to avoid what we saw as our rights under the Data Protection Act but fortunately they saw sense in the end and I was able to listen to the 999 calls that were made on 1^st March and also to the conversations between WM Police and WMAS control centres.

Last night Inspector Paul Dutton from WM Police sat in our home and admitted that the decision not to attend Aiden’s accident was wrong. He also admitted that were other areas where Aiden had been let down by the service and gave full explanations as to what had gone wrong and why. He gave us background information that was helpful to us and he listened to us. He apologised. That little word ‘sorry’. And that was all we had ever wanted; to be taken seriously. The justice that we had sought for Aiden was never about a prosecution but about someone admitting that when at a very vulnerable moment in his life, the service that we all expect to help and assist us wasn't there and that decision caused further problems.

Thank you.

And thanks again to all those who helped make this possible. Brownhills Bob, The Plastic Hippo, TheYamYam, Adrian Goldberg, Louisa Lewis, Richard Shepherd MP, ACC Marcus Beale and yes, Supt. Sean Russell and Inspector Paul Dutton. Thank you also to the many people who have emailed privately, DMd on Twitter and have supported us publicly on our blogs, Facebook, various forums and Twitter. It’s not over yet but we’re getting there.

There is so much more I could say but not for now. In my own words I need to pause and reflect. The policy issues surrounding when Police attend RTCs is to be examined and personal recommendations made. It is disappointing to us that of all the councillors at Birmingham and Walsall local authorities that were emailed details of the complaint made to WM Police in order for them to consider and discuss the policy issues raised only one, Imran Azam, has taken some time to let us know that the issues will be raised. I need time to develop my thoughts about democracy and accountability. Seems that at 50 the fire in my belly, the one I thought had died back in my 20s is flickering away again, ready to ignite into a large flame and I’m ready to think, evaluate and then campaign, hassle and be a general nuisance once again on issues that are important to me, although Aiden says that it might just be dyspepsia!

One final point. On 13 March we made a formal complaint to the Chief Executive of Birmingham City Hospital about the appalling way Aiden was treated, detailed here and here. Again all we want is an acknowledgement that what was experienced was wrong, shouldn't have happened, an assurance that it will not happen again, oh and that little word ‘sorry’. We still await a formal response. I will not be holding my breath waiting to hear that little word because I would become a permanent Guinness World Record Holder and that’s not what I want.

Same old scams....

They say they oldest are the best or something along those lines so maybe that's why I discovered today that a scam that first circulated a couple of years ago is alive and well and still trying to pull in the unsuspecting into parting with their cash.

Down at my Dad's today, he celebrates his 80th birthday in a couple of weeks but is still capable of youthful quickness of thought when necessary, I walked in to the living room to witness him advising someone on the telephone that yes. they had the right name but the number must be wrong because all the computers at the Mental Health Trust were all fine. The call continued for a few minutes longer with Dad insisting that the caller had reached some Mental Health Trust and that the computers were all fine. Eventually he lost his patience and rather impolitely advised the caller that they should go forth and multiply.

I asked who the call was from and he replied that is was that Indian fella again. What Indian fella I asked. The one that keeps telling me my computer upstairs is causing madness and mayhem in the town because it's filled with viruses says Dad. Now that computer upstairs runs with Windows 95 (remember that?) and has never to my knowledge, been connected to the internet. So it must be this old scam still playing then.

Apparently Dad keeps getting calls offering him once in a lifetime opportunities to buy shares too. Guess he must be on some gullible  list but goodness knows why because Dad is still sharp as a knife on stuff like this and has never fallen for anything like that. That's my Dad but my reason for publishing this is to remind people that some older (and younger for that matter) do fall for scams like this and it's always worth publicising so that more money does not make its way to any more sleaze balls pockets.

Rambling Allsorts and Thanks

What a week it has been! As events have been so swift moving, dramatic and stressful this is a bit of a departure to my normal blogging style in that it's more a report and a huge list of thanks you's.

For those of you that follow Aiden's blog, you will know that on Sunday we received the devastating news that WM Police held him partially responsible for his accident because he failed to brake! Aiden was very eloquent and angry about this and explained why this was such a travesty and so very wrong here and here. We started tweeting anyone who was prepared to listen to our story and also WM Police because we just could not accept that this was the result of a true and thorough investigation. The Police always knew there would be a complaint at the end of their investigation because of our concerns over the policy of not attending all but the most serious of accidents but now my attention had to turn to how on earth such a conclusion could have been reached and what we could do to obtain a review.

Along came St Bob on a Bike of Brownhills who published this brilliant summary of the whole situation and added some choice comments of his own. Well we wouldn't expect anything less from our Bob now would we? Bob's blog is widely read and the item was duly picked up by BBC RadioWM.

In the meantime Assistant Chief Constable Marcus Beale, on holiday made the mistake of checking his twitter account and the wheels of WM Police began grinding in earnest. An email advising us that the file was  under review was received and then I was invited to participate in a discussion about cycling safety on BBC RadioWM along with Police Superintendent Sean Russell. That discussion is well covered in another of Bob's supportive, accurate and well written articles here. I need say no more.

At the same time fellow Walsall blogger The Plastic Hippo published a devastatingly brilliant piece in support  of Aiden and others who have suffered injustices at the hands of the Police. I urge you to read this. It's important.

To the thanks. Firstly to Brownhills Bob, fellow cyclist and a supportive friend. Your blogs made a world of difference and changed events and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thanks also to The Plastic Hippo although when reading your blogs I never feel worthy enough to comment, such is the power of your writing. And thanks to Marcus Beale for being an approachable copper who keeps his word. If only there were more like you.

I also want to thank the very many people who have supported both Aiden and me on Twitter, Facebook, through the blogs, on cycling forums, through email, texts, phone calls, in every way imaginable. Every contact has been valued and gratefully received and to fall back on being ever so Uriah Heep once again,  we have been humbled. You're all fantastic people.Thank you.

Seems we've got ourselves into a safer cycling  campaign now and neither of us will be quitting. The stress and anxiety we have both endured have left their marks and scars on both of us but we do consider ourselves to be very lucky and we will see all of this through to what we hope will be a good conclusion.

For some light relief and also because we both adore the place, we attended the first meeting of the Friends of Park Lime Pits last night, held in The Manor Arms and organised by the truly committed Morgan Bowers, I wonder if Walsall Council know how lucky they are in having such a hard working and dedicated employee? If you use the Lime Pits and would like to participate actively in its future, I urge you to join us. You can email/message me and I'll add your details to the impressive list in terms of numbers who attended last night and let you have details of our first working get together.

And finally...I've mentioned my former life in the Inland Revenue rather a lot recently in this blog. It seems things have changed a lot in the 16 years since I left. Today I discovered that HMRC, their successors, now have a whole department dedicated to dealing with complaints and that currently a complaint will not be answered for five weeks! I was reflecting upon just how many complaints does a department receive in order to have to set up a dedicated sub-department to deal with them and just how many are currently pending if it takes five weeks to respond? It seems that the days of dealing with the odd complaint on the day of receipt have long gone, How very sad in all respects and how indicative of what our public services are reduced to, no longer being able for whatever reason to provide a decent service at the point of contact but being reduced to damage limitation exercises.

A little less cynicism, satisfaction guaranteed...

It can be very difficult sometimes not to be cynical particularly if you work in a stressful job where you can often see the worst that human kind can offer. It is easy to become hardened and immune to the sensitivities that mark us out as caring, to see and treat everyone with scepticism in a way that says ‘I’ve heard it all before’. This is particularly so for those in the so called caring professions such as in health care and social care but is equally pertinent for say police officers, civil and public servants and the like.

 I speak from experience. Cue boos and hisses again. My last 10 years in the Inland Revenue, which I left in 1996 were spent as an accounts investigator. It wasn’t a pleasant job and it could be incredibly stressful and confrontational. I tried to be as empathetic as I could during interview situations but after you’ve heard the same story of poverty and near destitution from someone sitting in front of you wearing expensive designer clothing and enough bling to light up Blackpool, a few times, you tend towards the disbelieving and that itch of cynicism becomes an all over body rash. When you realise that this is happening it’s cold shower and wake up time and an opportunity to remind yourself that every person you see is an individual with their own fears and worries and that they may be telling you the truth. When I couldn’t do that any longer and approached the office door each morning with a lead weight inside my stomach I knew I had to get out or I would betray myself, my conscience and my life. I have never regretted leaving because if I hadn’t I would have lost my humanity and my natural inclination towards believing in the best of people.

 Pass me that yoghurt to knit.

 In recent times I have been unfortunate in having had encounters with people who perhaps need that cold shower or worse have been doing their job for far too long and need out before they destroy some poor persons life, not deliberately I hasten to add but by default. Hence my capacity for complaining, it is an action not just for obtaining some sort of justice but also a tool that I would hope would cause pause for reflection. Sometimes it is necessary to step back and remember your own humanity and why you wanted to do that job or provide that service in the first place. It is also necessary to remember that although you may see on occasion the absolute worst in people, the majority of those people are decent and although you may not think that what they are presenting you with is important, it is important to them and that decisions you make and the service that you provide can have a devastating impact in terms of stress and worry or indeed the opposite and freedom from those things.

 Those people you deal with though, they always have the capacity to surprise you and cause a break in the monotony and cynicism build up. I once had to deal with an elderly gentleman who had retired at 65 and then set up his own company, traded successfully for 20 years, retired again and then decided he really must let the authorities know what he’d been up to and pay a little tax. He came in without an appointment to see me far more often than he needed to and I wanted him to, always filling my office with an overpowering smell of Old Spice along with his dapper dress and impressive manners. We got along on a professional basis very well and he made me laugh. We had one final meeting to negotiate his settlement offer and I was concerned to see that he hung a walking stick on the corner of my desk. The meeting went well and was cordial. Settlement was reached and he duly signed an offer. When business had finished he stood up, shook my hand and then reached for his walking stick and handed it to me. Perplexed I took it whilst he then proceeded to bend over my desk. ‘Ms Mason’, he said, ‘I’ve been a very naughty boy and I insist that you administer my punishment with the stick in your hand.’ I was mortified at the time and the gentleman was escorted off the premises. Five minutes later I was giggling away whilst relating the episode to my colleagues. It provided us all with a good laugh, a little steam was let go and with that some of that hard hearted cynicism.

 Formal complaints processes weren’t in vogue back then but neither were soul destroying unobtainable targets. Maybe those targets that apparently demonstrate how wonderful everyone is or how wonderful they would like us to think that they are, mean that working time excludes a little light relief time, which in turn leads to more cynicism and by default more destruction and complaints.

 Here endeth tonight’s ramblings of one old, tired and mad old baggage……

Fairy Tales, Farces and Pantomimes

In a land that time has since forgotten I started my first job at the tender age of 16 in what was then the Inland Revenue. Cue customary boos and hisses. I don't want to paint an over rosy view of those far flung days of the late 1970s but things were different. Once trained at whatever grade or level, you were given responsibility, an allocation of work, for a set of taxpayers as they were then known, rather than the so called customers of today. On a day to day basis you looked after those people, dealt with all correspondence or referred it upwards if that was necessary, took all telephone calls and if they came into what was quaintly called 'the counter' (now an enquiry point)you went to see them. Hopefully you answered their questions, resolved problems and disputes and although nobody has ever enjoyed paying tax, you provided a decent service to your public.

Of course there were slackers, show me any work place back then that didn't carry dead weight but they were a minority. The vast majority of the civil servants I worked with and for, were hard working people who took a pride in providing a good public service. The fact that you had your own allocation of work gave you ownership and responsibility. I'm not sure what the set up for allocating work is now but what I do know is that you cannot any longer speak to the actual officer responsible for your taxation affairs. I suspect that this is because there is not actually any ownership at all. If you telephone it is to a helpline, where to actually speak to a person it is necessary to endure several minutes of 'look at our website' propaganda, followed by 'we're extremely busy, why not call back later...if you insist' and then Muzak. Eventually you speak to a person who is not responsible for the letter that you received, who cannot put you through to the person who wrote that letter but who merely makes a note of your call to 'pass it on'. If you visit one of the few remaining local tax offices, you will be encouraged to use the free telephone to the helpline.

Those big bad Unions warned of all this and how public services would be affected many years ago when Thatcher first started slashing at the numbers of civil and public servants. They continued to emphasise the downward spiral of services that would be available and the service given when New Labour talked of efficiencies in back room jobs, whatever they were and they tried again when 'call me Dave' Cameron began his scorched earth policy of decimating what was left of not just the civil service but of all our public services; ambulance, fire, police, local authority workers, nurses, doctors, carers, amongst some of the services that have now been affected.

Now you may think 'so what', you're not a civil or public servant, you work hard, you pay your taxes and you try to get by. You're not going to shed crocodile tears for what you may think are under worked, over paid public servants. Well you might not until you have to use one of the services that have been slashed and burned. The lack of nursing staff say, might grab the headlines. What doesn't grab the headlines is the sheer lack of quality in services that can be given now by those services we most expect it from.

I have no doubt that the vast majority of public servants loathe the fact that they no longer have the time and resources to provide the service that they would like to. This is the reality of cuts to services, you don't actually get a service and nobody wants to take ownership of your problem, serve you well and see your experience through to a decent conclusion because to do so would put them in the firing line, perhaps even illicit a complaint.

Complaints...they have unfortunately become a sad fact of life for me since Aiden's accident on 1 March and I hate it. I hate the fact that the only way you get any service at all or to obtain answers as to why something has happened be it good or bad, is to complain or perhaps to ask for details in the proscribed and official manner because nobody will speak 'off the cuff' for fear of repercussions. Even when you do complain there are still ways that can be utilised to wriggle and squirm and fail to provide a service and the mantra appears to be certainly do not provide anything in writing because it may be kept and then used as evidence against you. The reality of service in the public sector has sadly descended to this level.

We paid out money, took our choice and voted and look what we have.

If you suffer a road traffic accident the police will not attend, well not in the West Midlands anyway. Policy is such that only the most serious accidents as decided by Control, will be attended. Now I can understand this to a certain extent because you do not want valuable police time and resources utilised on a grazed knee and a slightly bent bumper. As Aiden pointed out on his blog however, woe betide you if you suffer an accident and the 999 call is treated with contempt because Ambulance Control decide it is not serious, inform the Police accordingly and you could be lying on a major route out of Birmingham, blocking two lanes of traffic, experiencing more pain than you could believe possible due to life changing injuries and then to add insult to injury, you then are unable to get the Police to mount an investigation without the involvement of a very senior officer and you cannot obtain information pertinent to events immediately following your accident because the Ambulance Service falsely hide behind third party protection mantra, totally contradictory to the advice they are given by the Information Commissioners Office.

Further insult is added when a belated investigation then finally commences a whole month or more after the accident has taken place but the results of that investigation cannot be relayed to you because a particular officer happens to be on nights and apparently an email isn't an option. Or perhaps the Ambulance service try to forget you exist and the hospital that left you breathless with their incompetency, lack of care and ignorance finally acknowledge a complaint some four weeks after it was made by letting you know it's going to be another month before they fully respond and can you tell us if you're happy with that?

This is the reality of our public services these days, this is the reality of cutting services to the bone and then cutting again. Individuals that work for the services that we all use in one form or another would like, I'm sure, to be able to provide a good and decent service and there are many examples of those individuals going the extra mile to do so but on the whole, you cannot serve the people if you're not given the resources to do so in the first place.

Of course you can use social media to put a PR gloss on how wonderful you would like the public to think you are and aren't we wonderful for embracing the brave new world in this manner but at the end of the day it doesn't matter how hard you buff away, you cannot polish a turd.

A Change of Plans

My last bike ride was 8 days ago. It seems like a lifetime ago but in may ways it was because of Aiden’s life changing accident. I shall still continue to cycle for I adore this new activity with a passion but alas the charity rides will have to go by the wayside for now. This saddens me immensely.

I have no doubt that I could do the Mac-Ride without too many problems. The Aberdovey Ride organised by Officers of West Midlands Police was always going to be the tougher proposition but both were to be undertaken with Aiden, my inspiration and my mentor as well as my soul mate and partner. There is no way that I could do either without him at my side. This may seem a little unlike me to those who know me well and know how independent I have been throughout my life. I’ve never been daunted by doing something on my own but going on a holiday alone or walking alone are completely different propositions to cycling 100 miles twice on my own. This is particularly so as although I would be surrounded by many others, I would be alone in the crowd and that is a daunting prospect for this elderly woman.

The plan was that we did these rides together and the sad fact is I cannot do either of them without him.

Many lovely and beautiful people have already sponsored me and for that I thank every single person from the bottom of my heart. I cannot unfortunately refund you from Just Giving but what I hope to do is persuade MacMillan to allocate what has already been given to another shorter ride later this year that I can do on my own and want to do on my own. To contact them is on my to do list but as you can imagine at present that list is a mile long but I will get around to it.

I still aim to cycle regularly and I hope that one day Aiden will feel able to get back on his bike, if that is indeed physically possible because it is not a given and once again we can enjoy cycling together.

Tomorrow I shall be leaving Aiden in the safe care of my daughter (and son!) whilst I whisk off for a couple of hours because I noticed yesterday that in the week I hadn’t been cycling spring has arrived. There are trees in blossom and daffodils in bloom and I need to get out there, smell the air, sniff the spring and enjoy the beauty of nature that is free to all to appreciate. I shall even dismount and sniff the flowers and give thanks for the blessings I have. To be honest I need a little time on my own allowing my mind to wander and be free. Many lovely people have told me that at this stressful time I must find time for myself and so I shall take their advice in the morning, ignore the growing mountain of paperwork, ironing and housework, oh and real work too, get on my bike and feel the wind on my cheeks and for a little while shelve the hell of the last week and recoup my zen.

The Child Within

I should be in bed having been up since 5 am this morning but my brain is so wired I thought that maybe getting a few thoughts down on screen might help me try and put my mind into some sort of order. Having said that there are many who have known me for more years than they will ever care to admit to, that would say that if my mind was ever ordered then the world would have ended. I'll just ramble like I normally do then.

Just under 6 years ago I blogged about the fact that nothing prepares you for the sight of your own Mother on life support in ICT. She had gone into hospital for a routine hernia operation and someone fouled up whilst intubating her causing a massive and uncontrolled haemorrhage in her throat. 5 years after that event I still wasn't prepared to see her in ICT once again, especially as later that evening she died. Take these events and my own numerous hospital adventures and I was still unprepared for what hit me this evening.

My dear man went down to surgery at 1.50 this afternoon. By 4.30 we had to leave to travel over to West Bromwich for visiting and I was told by the Sister over the phone that they expected him back within the half hour. You can therefore imagine my utter devastation when 2 hours later I approached his bay and found it totally empty. Seems that no matter how many times life throws an unpleasant medical type surprise at me I'm left reeling and it wasn't just because of the close proximity to the Hawthorns either, although I had ten minutes earlier felt a bar coded shadow fall over me.

There had been complications hence the length of time in the theatre. Now there's a funny thing to call it, a theatre. I suppose it was because when surgery was in its infancy there were viewing galleries but that was a long time ago. I associate theatre with a good night out not a place where your life or that of someone you love is firmly in the hands of someone you don't know but inherently trust to do a damn good job. About 20 minutes later he was brought back and after he was settled we were allowed to see him. My poor daughter; I said to her I wish that she hadn't come with me because to bear witness to someone in so much pain is rather too much for a 12 year old to handle but bless her heart, she replied that although it had been traumatic she had needed and wanted to see this beloved man who means so much to us.

A little over a week ago Aiden blogged about how difficult it had been to witness my pain when I had a wisdom tooth extracted. I must admit that an hour having your jaw clamped open and constant pressure applied for extraction is rather painful. Now I know exactly how he felt because it was heart and gut wrenching this evening to see him suffer so very badly and to be impotent.

I consider myself extremely fortunate to have found a relationship with an utterly wonderful man when I am so long in the tooth....or even long in the toothless if these pesky abscesses keep plaguing me but it doesn't matter how old you are or how much life experience you have, when presented with something you can do nothing about, the child within resurfaces.

There is much about recent events that I wish to return to not least my opinion that West Midlands Police need to review on a very serious level their policy on attending accidents when a cyclist is involved. It stands to reason that if a car and a cycle have a collision, the cyclist is not going to be the winner. I am happy that West Midlands Police are now investigating the accident that was not attended and thank Brownhills Bob for what he has called interference and I call a blessing because without him ACC Marcus Beale would not have got involved and I thank him too. So I will be returning to that subject.

It gives me great pleasure also to report that the Staff on Lyndon 3 at Sandwell General Hospital are a a breath of fresh air; caring, compassionate and efficient. What a difference that makes.