Landlords + tenants = Trouble!

It took a week to get my son back from the foster carers.

When I finally got released from the police cell (they cut my taped interview short, because by this time I was incapable of stringing a sentence together) I'd already spoken to my brief (god -I sound like a common criminal - and seeing as I had just belted a police office, I spose I WAS one?!), and she had reassured me that they had no case - I will always remember her - she was a funky looking woman, silver rings all on one hand and gold rings all on the other, dressed like a hippy, and sharp as a tack. I remember that one of the statements said that "all there was in the fridge was some cheese, 6 yoghurts and 4 pints milk" This was supposed to ADD to the child abuse case that they were trying to build against me at the time, coz obviously assualting a police officer wasnt enough........and my brief cracked up when she read this......"I wish I had this much food in my fridge", she commented, and the police didnt pursue it beyond this, thank heavens. They were trying to make out that my son was left on his own all the time (simply NOT TRU) and that when I did leave him (y'know for all those exotic holidays etc.....) all I left him was some milk, cheese and yoghurt??!!! CRAZY - no wonder that shut up and left it all well alone after this....

So, a kind CID officer drove copper and I home (you cannot imagine the atmosphere in that car at the time) and we walked in the front door........

The first thing I did was call the foster parents-we had been home, literally 30 seconds (it was about 18.00 hours and I wasnt allowed to speak to my son - "he's gone to bed" which pardon my language, was bullshit - who sends a 7yr old to bed at 6pm?!!

So I had a shower and went for a curry................which sounds totally heartless and bitchy and awful.......but I simply didnt know what else to do.............I couldnt stay at home, the police had wrecked my house with their search warrant (which means they can remove anything they like as evidence, and turn drawers inside out, but you dont have to put it back again - fair enough I guess...)

Copper asked if I was hungry and i was - hadnt eaten for 36+ hours at this point, so we went out...you COULD NOT have paid me to stay in the house anyway.....

Life over the next week = cant describe, picture copper stressful as he had been suspended, me in pieces because i couldnt get my son back (I was told where he was, but advised by social workers not to get him, because "it wouldnt look good for me") So case from the police had been dropped in this week - first offence, abused girlfriend, etc etc........and I still couldnt get my son back........

Obviously, I did at the end of the week and I cherish that first time I got to cuddle him, to tuck him into bed - for hours, I sat outside his room at nighttime, just listening to him breathe deeply when he was asleep - it meant the world to me......

Time moved on, it didnt heal .............copper and I reached the conclusion (DOH!!) that we would be better off apart............so he moved into a gorgeous flat in Faversham........we wanted to stay together (I still loved him, so so much, you see - despite everything) and of course, things got worse..........

Not with Copper, I must stress that - he actually seemed to have sorted himself out in his new flat - drinking less, working hard and doing well.......and I was doing better too..

Until the heating died at home.........7 yr old son, no heating, no water, 2 weeks before Christmas.........I told our Landlords (it was clearly in the lease that it was THEIR responsibilty to fix) and they were having none of it....copper emailed them..no good. They were having none of it......i went to the Citizens Advice Bureau, who told me that my landlords (Mr and Mrs Wilson, actually) were known for this sort of behaviour - in fact, they had hundreds of complaints against them, but the CAB were unable to do anything. At this point, I was having a nervous breakdown, there was mould growing on the walls and I had to boil the kettle to have a wash. I went to my GP - who told me - and these are his exact words........."you cant fight the Wilsons, they have too much money"

RED RAG = BULL! By this time - and I remember this clear as day - it was xmas eve - and who was on the telly, but the rogue Landlords, the Wilsons, bragging about how they were about to become "Kents first Billionaire Landlords" I was fucking wild (scuse my french) they were about to become BILLIONAIRES, yet they wouldnt fix my heating and they were sending me vile emails (if you cant afford to fix the heating, maybe you shouldnt be in one of our houses - you arent the sort of tenant we want and you would be better of renting a cheaper house - maybe a terraced one, nearer town.....) Im not joking - they were SICK, just SICK.

So after Christmas, I emailed BBC Watchdog, in desperation...........and lo and behold, Aunty Beeb - she came thru for me..............!!

How to get arrested....smack a copper!

I hit him - its quite simple and I HIGHLY recommend it if you want to get arrested REALLY QUICKLY!!

Basically what happened was this............I went out shopping the next day (yes, I know I had taken a sicky, but the only cure for what I was going thru was chocolate.......and shoes......maybe some perfume........) So, I kinda made my peace with the copper, we agreed to have a grown up chat when things had calmed down and off I went shopping. In the meantime, my colleagues at work had called the police, stressing their concerns over his behaviour - they were well aware that he didnt let me out and that he was often drunk and violent - they had seen the bruises on my legs and arms (he liked to pinch me under the arms - apparently they teach you that in Police School "Its a pressure point" NICE!) Anyway, because he was a copper, this raised alarm bells with them and they called round......which we probably could have dealt with, but while I was out, my son had come home from school and instead of staying with him, copper had promptly pissed off over the Barn (our local) and left him at home. A 7 year old child, at home, on his own - mother out shopping, "step" father in the local boozer, following a night of rows in front of my work colleagues..............I can see how this looked dysfunctional.........

Of course, my son had opened the door to the police (as of course he should), and told them mum was out and "dad" was over the pub. I walked round the corner 5 minutes later to find 2 police cars on the drive (yes, my house was so posh, I had a drive, OK?). One lovely police officer was playing on the playstation with son and the love of my life, my hero, was sitting on the sofa crying (he did that a LOT) and explaining that he was having a nervous breakdown because of stress from work.........

Somehow, dont know how, the situation got dealt with and everything was sorted, we were told to expect a visit from a Social worker the next morning (which I was, at this point, grateful for - coz gawd knows we needed all the help we could get). And also some sort of family police liason officer... then the police left.

Then copper started laying into me.......about how I was a rubbish mother, how I "only worked in a factory (whatevver - I was proud of my little job), about how I wasnt supportive enough to him (true enough, im afraid) and most of all how it was all my fault he was an alcoholic and I couldnt blame him for not letting me see people from work - and I quote "because they are all whores and slappers".

He was gunning for me - really yelling - and I lost it - and im not proud to admit this because violence DOES NOT solve anything and I shouldnt have done it. BUT all those nights laying awake in bed whilst he was getting drunk and passing out downstairs, all the CD's in the PC hard drive with Porn on, all the frustration I felt over his controlling behaviour- being told what to eat, what to drink, who I could have as friends (basically, no-one) all the bruises I had and the scar on the top of my head where he smashed a beer glass and the bloodstains that still showed on the wall in the kitched coz I couldnt wash them off, the time I had an asthma attack and was kneeling on the lounge floor and he was laughing and accusing me of making it up (he soon changed his mind over that one when the ambulance crew (who my son rang for, by the way) had to inject me with adrenaline and I ended up being admitted to Intensive Care). All those things.......and many more.......just enraged me.............and when he was standing in front of me screaming, with my son in the next room and he was half pissed and stank of beer and I lost it - before I knew what had happened, I had smacked him - HARD - right across the face and with my fist closed..............I got him good.........

And who knows what might have happened - if the police hadnt left yet = if they hadnt of been waiting outside (which is SOP is domestic violence cases, by the way - in case a row kicks off......) Anyway, they hadnt left - they were still there and milliseconds after I walloped him - he looked at me and I will never forget it - he looked TRIUMPHANT, like he had won the world cup and found a million quid..........and he went over the the front door and announced to the officer standing there........ "look what she's done to me" and it was game over........they arrested me there and then for assault and took me away.

My mind is hazy for the rest of it......I remember a very kindly WPC taking my DNA swab and my fingerprints and asking if I wanted a hot chocolate........I remember shaking, not even able to cry and them taking my bra off me...I remember that the blanket in the cell was scratchy and I held even that for comfort............and most of all, worse of all, almost, I remember asking a male police officer for some loo roll and he handed me ONE SQUARE........because, of course they were less than impressed with this woman who had decked a fellow office who was just having a hard time of it............

Anyway, I got taken to a room and they took a statement and I told them EVERYTHING...........which has ruined my life.........because when they saw the bruises I had, after they had photographed them, they went back to the house (it was about 10pm by this time) and arrested copper. The first I knew of it was when I got taken to yet another interview room to sign a piece of paper to say that I was aware my son had been taken into care - into foster care............and I will never EVER EVER forget feeling that way...............Iwill not forget what my son went through (as if he hadnt been thru enough) and I will never forgive myself.......im sorry baby, so sorry.......

I'll tell you how I got my baby back and how I ended up on BBC watchdog tomorrow!!