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Through Ten Eyes of a Storm
Through Ten Eyes of a Storm
Through Ten Eyes of a Storm
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Through Ten Eyes of a Storm

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At the age of 33, I was a single working parent with four small children. My wife had left and had no intention of returning to me or her children. Not one to shy away from my responsibilities I set out to do the best that I could in the circumstances. The journey was emotionally and psychologically challenging for all of us - at one point the boys' therapist suggested that their emotions would be more easily dealt with if their mother had died. Unable to cope I asked for the children to be taken into social services care - I got them ready and they played in a room totally oblivious to my plans for them. But, as fate would have it my request for them to be `placed' together was not granted. I gathered my children together and together we continued on our journey - into the storm.

I was raised to believe that a man provided for his family, however when one is suddenly a sole carer of four children this belief is shaken. Despite this my boys' and I struggled on. Life wasn't easy. There were many challenges - the biggest was being a parent. How could I provide a happy and stable home and how would I deal with their and my emotional well-being? If I am honest I didn't know then but believe that I am a lot clearer now. The system that threw me and my sons a lifeline is now so corrupted. I am a pensioner who owns a house which until very recently was let to a single mother and her children - I am now being forced to sell my property to pay in excess of 20,000 compensation plus 20,000 legal fees to this single mother, who ironically is in receipt of benefits!
LanguageEnglish
Release dateJul 12, 2011
ISBN9781456781255
Through Ten Eyes of a Storm

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    Book preview

    Through Ten Eyes of a Storm - Vincent Harrison

    Through Ten Eyes of a Storm

    Vincent Harrison

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    AuthorHouse™ UK Ltd.

    500 Avebury Boulevard

    Central Milton Keynes, MK9 2BE

    www.authorhouse.co.uk

    Phone: 08001974150

    © 2011 Vincent Harrison. All rights reserved.

    No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

    First published by AuthorHouse 7/8/2011

    ISBN: 978-1-4567-8123-1 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4567-8124-8 (dj)

    ISBN: 978-1-4567-8125-5 (e)

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

    and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    missing image file

    Acknowledgements

    Much appreciation is given to my family and friends who gave me feedback on my ideas and assisted with my research on difficult topics such as Farmworkers in America. Thanks to my partner, Pat with whom I have had several arguments and have had to endure numerous threats from her, to down tools, whilst writing my book. Thanks for being my human dictionary, my typist, for sharing many conversations and discussions about my experiences and the dissecting of my Caribbean culture.

    My sincere appreciation to my friends Keith and Johnny, my sister Isolene, my brother Joseph, my nephew Leroy, my neice Joyce and my sisters in law Jeanie and Josephine all of whom assisted in one way or another on this journey. A special thank you to my friend Mikey, who I cannot thank enough - we lived as brothers and he was ‘uncle Mikey’ to the children. A special thanks also to my ex-wife Emily who played a major role in our fight for survival.

    My gratitude to Christine Callender, for reading and correcting the manuscript. I could not have chosen a better editor – she has the academic knowledge required coupled with the necessary understanding of my Caribbean culture. Christine, you now have my permission to wet yourself with laughter.

    Finally, many thanks to my sons Ronald, Terence, Audley and Rodney who in their particular way, although sometimes not explicit, gave me the encouragement to tell our story.

    Contents

    Acknowledgements

    INTRODUCTION

    GUYS HILL

    MEETING MY GIRLFRIEND

    MARRIAGE TO BEATRICE

    MY FATHER

    MY MOTHER

    FARM WORKERS

    ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND

    DENZIL ROAD

    MENTAL HEALTH

    TWICKENHAM GARDENS

    BEATRICE LEAVES

    DEATH OF MY FATHER

    BANKRUPTCY & DIVORCE

    27 WILMERS COURT

    STRESS WITH THE BOYS

    BEATRICE ATTACKS!

    SOCIAL WORKER REPORTS

    BEATRICE’S MEETING

    WITH THE BOYS

    MIXED BLESSINGS

    BOYS FROM 1ST MARRIAGE

    SON I NEVER MET

    THREE BOYS FROM 2ND MARRIAGE

    AUDLEY’S GOLD MEDAL

    LETTER TO FIDEL CASTRO

    ME

    GRENADA EXPERIENCE

    WHO AM I? (NO SAINT)

    PREPARING TO LEAVE ENGLAND

    INTRODUCTION

    Just after Valentine’s day 1976 I entered the house. That evening, my four children aged eight, five, four and two years had greeted me as usual, jumping on me and [1]skylarking. After reading a note on the kitchen worktop I found myself with a sense of bewilderment. The note was from my wife. It informed me that she had left me and our four children – she had jumped ship and would not be returning.

    As I was reading the note I heard the phone ringing. It was my wife confirming that she had left, and she went on to say that we would all die because of my lack of domestic skills. I was confused and dumbfounded. I knew that we were having some problems but I had no clue that she wanted to leave me and abandon her children. Many thoughts raced through my head as I listened to her explain that she had watched me enter the house after my return from work. Beatrice wanted to be sure that I had received the note and as she sat in her car, watching me from a distance further up the road she had rung me to deliver the devastating news.

    My inspiration to write this book came after my son won an Olympic Gold Medal for Britain – the boys were now men and somehow we had managed to survive. Audley, not the rest of us, decided that the family should try to forget the past and that it was time for reconciliation. I however, was unable to talk about my experience - it was too emotional. I did not say anything to the boys about how I felt.

    After Audley won the Gold Medal in 2000 I experienced a reversal of roles with my four eldest sons. It was difficult to talk about my experiences or my feelings to anybody let alone my sons – it was all too raw. I feared that if I opened up, everything would come out like water gushing from a burst pipe with great force. The boys however, had a different agenda – they needed to know and were deliberate, persistent yet skilful in the tactics used to get me to talk. Even now I feel emotional when I talk about this period in my life. I watched intently and observed the actions of my oldest sons and, found that something deep inside me gave me the strength to open up, exposing deeply hidden feelings that had been stored away for a long time. As the pipe burst I was confronted with feelings and an array of baggage – simply opening up and talking about things did not answer questions nor solve the problems. Instead it felt as if I was permanently carrying a heavy metal object placed in an elastic bag, that never reached a stable place. As I talked through the issues there was always more. I owed it to my sons to educate them about their upbringing and did not wish to be an obstacle in their way if they wanted to rekindle a relationship with their mother. I felt that it was very important that Audley, in particular, realised that an Olympic gold medal would not be a quick fix.

    It was Audley who introduced me to the world of ‘celebrity’. I looked at my life and surroundings at the time and thought – is this reality or fantasy? Around me I saw ‘reality’ yesterday and ‘vanity’ today. Yesterday’s reality was me raising my four sons, on my own, making them corn-meal porridge and dumplings when there was no other food in the house. Yet, today’s vanity was to my mind an excessively spoilt culture. I remember Audley and I attending a Film Premier in Leicester Square. As we arrived he told me that he was hungry. Even though he stood more than six foot tall I saw ‘my child’ in him and immediately took him to get him a sandwich. We stepped onto the red carpet, lights flashing, everyone was shouting his name, and asking for a photograph. Audley told them that the limelight should be on his dad because it was Father’s Day. This world of ‘celebrity’, ‘role models’, glitz and glamour was so alien and has provided further inspiration for me to write my memoirs.

    I want to tell the world that life was definitely not a bed of roses but, that I had loads of fun bringing up my four boys. The precariousness of my situation as a single father who depended on the welfare state was never far away. The uncertainty of when I was to receive the next wage kept me on my toes.

    As a single father I was blissfully unaware that I would be entitled to welfare benefits and this leads me on to another reason for writing my memoirs. Although seemingly unrelated my single parent status at the time has brought into sharp focus how reliance on state benefits has metamorphosised from support to the most needy into a culture of dependence and abuse. Recently I was ordered by Watford County Court to pay £20,000 plus costs to a single mother to whom I rented my house. Like many landlords across the country I experienced first-hand how the benefits system is used and abused. As I was going through this case I reflected on my lone-parent status and my reluctance to use the benefits system except as a last resort. It is ironic that as a result of not abusing the benefits system and having worked hard all my life, I am now in the position where I have a home which I have to sell to pay ‘compensation’ to a single mother in receipt of state

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