Stephen Lawrence

It's wonderful news to hear that two men are to face trial for the 1993 murder of Black Teenager Stephen Lawrence. The death of Stephen Lawrence without a criminal case being brought by the State; has always been a blight on the justice system of the United Kingdom. It may be 18 years after the event, but the young man who was stabbed to death allegedly, simply because he was black, deserves the Justice of a trial for the accused.

I suspect that the trial will be a fair and equitable affair.

Everyone will have equal chance to convince those that sit in judgement that certain things did or did not happen and that certain people were either there or not. I suspect that all in all, the fairness of the process can be regarded as something that was not afforded to Stephen Lawrence when he was chosen to be killed. On that occasion it was the worse kind of cowardice, a gang of men. It is a pity that only two of them are being brought to trial and that the whole lot of them haven't been rounded up. Nevertheless, it is a significant step forward and everyone who has been involved in bringing the prosecution, should be justifiably proud.

No pre-judgement, no unfair trial, just a trial of the facts by a jury of your peers and if you did it then you done it, and it's as simple as that. And if you didn't do it, then you have nothing to worry about as an advocate will plead your innocence on your behalf and thereby convince those that sit in judgement to let you free.

Stephen Lawrence
Born 13 September 1974
Age when murdered 18
Status A Level Student
Date of Murder 22 April 1993
Method of MurderStabbed
Location of Murder Bus stop in Eltham, South East London

The following quote is cited as being attributed to the mother or Stephen Lawrence "...had he been given the chance to survive maybe he would have been the one to bridge the gap between black and white because he didn't distinguish between black or white. He saw people as people." Chapter 4, Stephen Lawrence Enquiry 4.7 Doreen Lawrence ended her statement with these words:-

Compilation

The Poetry is going well, the Swimming is going well, and a few other things are going well. So I'm sat tight waiting for the bubble to burst. Well its burst already, but when things go wrong they tend to keep on going that way. We been contacted regarding that thing that I'm not writing about, a strange sort of contact as three letters that the allege that they sent never arrived. But this one did, so very strange indeed. Hey ho, just more problems to deal with. Then there's the coincidence. Nothing to do with the thing that I don't write about, but a lot to do with something else from last year. Very strange indeed, and as a fatalist, I simply don't believe in coincidence. Everything happens for a purpose, so there's a few loose ends that need to be tied up so I know what is going on with this one.

Meanwhile, I am chugging along with the poetry. I am trying to construct one in recognition of a Double George Medal winner who also won an MBE for Gallantry. A brave chap indeed, so my effort has to match the magnitude of the task in hand.

As for 'Zulu Rising' a fantastic retelling of an important part of British history. The farming warrior class of the Zulu nation was no match for the industrialisation of the British. Now don't get me wrong, the Zulu's out fought, out 'generalled' and out everything else compared to the British. But spears and hide shields are no match for a Gatlin Gun, Canon, and an endless supply of troops with the best weapons. The logistics and stealth was extremely impressive as well. We can recall the Zulu victory at Isandlwana as a matter of vast numbers against a badly weakened force who's perimeter was stretched, but come on folks, 25,000 warriors without being detected moved that close to the British camp. And anyway, the General didn't have to half his force and leave unclear orders. Nope, if he was so intent on chasing around the country killing the natives for no good reason at all, then there would have been better structure to the situation. Then again, the British wouldn't have been there in the first place.

Now that's a bit like the thing that I don't write about. A little bit of forethought and consideration by the other side, and we wouldn't be where we are today. If I win, I shall of course write and awful lot about everything, and remember, it ain't libel or slander if you did it!

Meanwhile, verse 7 has to be compiled. Then when its all done, I have to read it out to a few people, and if they like the finished product, then it will be posted on the Blog.

The WInd

One of my daughters believes that poetry is an expression of creativity. The following attempt at creating a poem; consists of six verses each of four lines. The first and third line of each verse consists of only two words, whereas the second and fourth line of each verse consists of three words.

The sixth verse is made up of one line from the first, third, and fifth verses and finished with a finale.

The lines from the first, third, and fifth verse are the first relevant line i.e. the first ‘two word’ or the first ‘three word’ line as appropriate from each of the selected verses running in sequence.

I thought of the concept for the poem ‘The Wind’ on a fine evening walking along the prom with no wind present. The poem took approximately ten to fifteen minutes to write, and had two word changes after the first draft, and an ‘s’ added to two other words. The hardest part of the poem was constructing the fourth verse. I knew that something was needed in that part in order to move the then fourth verse to become the fifth and thereby fit the end verse grabbing of elements from the first, third and fifth verses.

I’m not sure if the beer helped, but I wrote four poems that evening, of which this the second of the four. One of my daughters refers to it as ‘haunting’ and asked me if “...they are really coming to you on the spot?” Well, the honest answer to that is ‘yes’. The second of my efforts on the 11 May 2011 is the most superior (if that’s the correct terminology to use) of the four. Although I do like my first attempt that evening as well. Maybe I shall Blog that one on another occasion along with ‘The Girl with the Blue Dragon Eyes’ that was written back in April. Another of my poems appears in the Blog near to Valentine’s Day 2011.

When reciting ‘The Wind’ my intention would be to speak smoothly and slowly. If standing, then with an upright poise but with the head slightly bent forward and downwards as if to imitate the struggle. I would say the first line of verse one, and then pause for effect, before continuing with the poem. There would be a ‘knowing nod’ during the third and fourth lines of verse one. For verse two I would look at the audience for the first two lines to engage them into agreeing with what is being said, before looking downwards for the third and fourth lines of the second verse. I would look up again at the audience from the third line of the third verse. ‘Death’ is the order of the day, and the audience need to be fully engaged for this point. The intention and the need for ‘rest’ in the fourth verse would mean looking upwards while reciting the whole of the fourth verse. The fourth verse is also about securing help to maintain the effort, the upward look being somehow a cry for help and intervention.

The struggle of the fifth verse would be relayed by the forward downward positioning of the head. I would maintain the same positioning for the last verse, other than the second line where I would look at and engage with the audience. I would read the first line of the last verse exactly, like reading the first line of the first verse as explained earlier. But then again what do I know? I have probably overplayed the card, and your anticipation of the poem could hurry on a period of deflation when you have read it, and then wonder what all the fuss was about. Oh, just in case this or any other poem that I have written are any good, then please note that;

“The right of Roger Bennett to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988...”

The Wind

It bit,
Its grip tightening,
The howl,
Was extremely frightening

Not cool,
But very cold,
My skin,
Felt extremely old

Its harshness,
Took my breath,
This wind,
Could cause death

To sleep,
Would be wonderful,
To dream,
Could be colourful

I moved,
Two steps forwards,
One back,
But still onwards

It bit,
Took my breath,
I moved,
And avoided death


Roger Bennett
May 2011

The Apprentice

There’s one thing that you have to say about each and every one of those that commit to BBC and Lord Sugar show ‘The Apprentice’ (BBC weekdays); they all have belief in themselves. I mean who in their right would during a time of recession give up paid employment to take a chance? It may be the ‘pessimistic me’ but if Lord Sugar called me up and asked me to give up work and appear in the Final of the Apprentice with only one other opponent, then my extremely smart answer would have to be a resounding ‘no’.

It’s not because I retired young and don’t have to work, it’s all about the fact that the other person will win. 'Yes' I do want a job, and I mean forget that I understand planning, strategy, entrepreneurism and the like. It’s just a case that everyone including Lord Sugar will like the other finalist and find a way to let me know that I didn’t get the job. Not because I am unlikeable, it's just how these things go. Now if I am bright enough to recognise that two people isn’t a 50-50 chance, then what are the odds when there are eleven others and a huge number of tasks and board meetings to get through. And if that wasn’t bad enough, you have to shine while nearly everyone else throws a knife or tries to hoist you up onto a meat hook. Well I'm used to that part, in fact I am a seasoned campaigner at dodging knifes thrown by those who ain't that good.

Now I’m also pretty good at identify the patsy at the start of each series. That is the first person to go, every time a new group assembles. Once I picked the correct person simply from the pictures in the 'Radio Times'. Well ‘pretty good’ probably underplays my knack. You see, it’s 100% since the programme began.

Now that looks good on paper, but if we contextualise the statement, then maybe we recognise that when the programme airs, I don’t even know if the ‘boys’ or the ‘girls’ win the first task. I pick the loser within minutes of the programme starting. But during the opening moments of this series, I wavered. I chose two people, no not a boy and a girl, but the eventual victim and his ‘orange’ partner. "Is it an Orange?" response, "Mmmm, I’m not sure". You will have to excuse the paraphrasing, as that’s sort of what I thought that they said when they were together. The most important thing is that those of you who watched the opening episode, will know the two chaps that I mean. Mind you, I selected these two, long before their trip to the market.

My money is on the inventor or the oriental lass. She seems very switched on, he also. He comes across as a bit of an oxymoron in many ways, an inventor who talks sense. ‘Soup Man’ must also be a favourite along with someone who I think is called Gavin. Those of you who follow the Blog know that I am a Briggs Meyer ENTP and not particularly good with names. That’s why I like ‘Sir Alan’, and ‘Lord Sugar’, they are easy to remember and sort of roll off the tongue. I clearly remember ‘Amstrad’ as it stands for ‘Alan Michael Sugar Trading’, and that is something that I can remember and associate with the name.

But for the world of me I simply cannot recall the name of the first episode loser from last night. I know that he used to be an accountant, and I know that he sort of maintained my 100% record, Fred, Frank and Fickle come to mind, but I’m confident that it’s none of those. I also know that he is short as I think that he told us so during the programme, but I am not sure if everyone else heard that passing comment. Now then Lord Sugar, give us a call, I ‘Double Dog Dare You’. And anyone from South Wales knows that you got to do a double dog dare. Can you imagine it; Lord Sugar, the lady on the left, the chap on the right (both of whom come across as being lovely by the way) and me! The problem being of course, after watching every episode and every series, I still don’t know their names. Now ‘Margaret’ that rings a bell, but I don’t think the football club owner is called Margaret, and I don’t think that she bakes either. Tee he hee, me sat in the anti-room; “Lord Sugar will see you now”, “I said, (pausing for emphasis and increasing the volume) Lord Sugar will SEE YOU NOW”. Yeah, as if.

Two Blogs

I'm working on two Blogs at the moment. This one on line, and the Second in WORD. I have mentioned previously the importance of oral history being placed in written form so that our descendants know a bit more about us and what we were up to and why.

The same position applies to the Internet. What we write on an electronic Blog is as vulnerable as oral history. The demise of a provider or its server and what was written is lost. It's continuity is no different than oral history in that the stories rely upon the memory of others and their desire or willingness to communicate those stories. I have therefore copied and pasted the whole of this Blog from 2008 until April 2011 into a WORD document.

The 300 pages have been given a title page, and an introduction. I have begun the next phase whereby I try and explain why I wrote what I did. This is being achieved by writing a link between entries or to explain a group of entries. The links are in a different font than the original Blog so it is clear what has been added. The original photographs have also been embedded into WORD. All in all it's an attempt to contextualise the writing and help our descendants to understand what it was all about.

The finished work is being bound in a leather dissertation binder. The idea being that it sits alongside my ongoing Family History work when that is complete. Two books that will inform others about us.

Roll of Honour

Is the compilation of a Roll of Honour in the Public Domain with ready access getting any closer? The Secretary to the President of Ghana has copied me in on a letter to the Hon. Minister, Ministry of Defence, Accra asking the Minister to action providing details or access to a Roll of Honour for those Ghanaians that have perished during United Nations Peacekeeping activities.

I shall update the Blog with names and dates as soon as they become available. Meanwhile, a big thank you to the secretary to the President for giving the matter serious consideration and tasking others to assist in what I consider to be an essential element of the civilizing process from Colonialism to Statehood.

Japan

Greetings to the surfer from Shinjuku in Japan that recently visited the Blog. I hope that you and your countrymen are slowly overcoming the dreadful natural disaster that affected your country.

Season 7

I know that I am supposed to be writing about Isandlwana and its aftermath, but I have been a tad busy of late with that thing that doesn’t get mentioned here. Don’t worry, there’s no Super-Injunction in place on me, and I’m not a rich personality, although my personality may sometimes be a bit rich. No, it’s more of a case that while things could be resolved I see no reason to dig a ditch. Dialogue and negotiation reduces tensions and deescalates the rhetoric from both sides. Talking is good and can solve many problems. I suppose that sometimes it also causes a few problems as well. People have to be talking from the same storyboard, and repetition has to be accurate. The African tradition of oral history relies upon the accurately recalling of the stories and trying to ensure that events are not lost in time.

We were chatting about family history last night, and some of the things that we told one of our daughters she had never heard. Some of course, for various reasons, simply cannot be published, but quite a few of the stories brought about a few laughs. So maybe it’s (life) not that bad after all. I thought that this would be a good time to post a trio of family stories and try to link them in some way to create a bit of interest. So here goes, I was thinking along the lines of a few common denominators; wheels, reduced numbers, and my bro.

Four wheels

The 2011 grass cutting is Season 7 for my petrol driven lawnmower. It’s a lovely thing that I found in the skip when I was visiting my brothers quite a few years back. I asked if I could have the lawnmower and although the answer was ‘yes’, there was at the time two significant downsides. (1) It wasn’t working, and (2) my lovely new Volvo with its light coloured leather upholstery was stuffed full of Daughters University stuff from England being brought back home to Wales by yours truly. So we tipped out any residue oil and petrol, covered the backseat leather with blankets and somehow managed to manoeuvre the lawnmower into the S40. About a week later and only £20 lighter, the missing 4th wheel was welded back onto the axle, and a new fan belt meant that the lawnmower worked. Here we are in Season 7 and as the lawnmower fires up first time at the start of each Season, I am extremely grateful to my bro. It’s not that I couldn’t afford to go out and buy my own, no it’s not that at all. The gratitude is all about salvaging someone else’s junk, and making good use of it for many years to come. Indeed, there’s a fair chance that the lawnmower may get a spray job this winter ready for next Season. Maybe red with sharks teeth or some WWII air art.

Three wheels

The second of my trio of family blasts from the past is about my father driving a road roller. These lumbering beasts of a machine have a solid turning rolling wheel at the front and two large fixed wheels either side of the main body towards the rear. Three wheels and no rubber, the driver sits high up in an almost open cab and if they are lucky have a sprung seat. Yes folks we are talking ‘big’ road rollers here, and not the diminutive ones often seen these days. Now don’t ask me what my brother was doing in the cab with dad, it doesn’t make any sense as the cabs only have a single seat. But nevertheless bro was with dad in Swansea trundling down a very long hill. Except that the trundling became a sort of freefall as the brakes on the road roller failed. Now I’m reasonably intelligent and understand physics and the like, but what I cannot explain, is what possessed my father and brother to determine in an instant that bro should jump? It doesn’t make any sense at all.

Massive road roller with massive front wheel is sort of going to demolish anything that it hits. I suppose the only vehicle that would create a similar impact would be a Centurion tank. Bro jumped and broke a bone or two and was lucky not to be crushed by one of the rear wheels. “And the road roller?” you ask, well come on folks do I really have to explain? Gravity ensured that it rolled onwards to the bottom of the hill, and its mass meant that it demolished a wall. For my part I am grateful that bro or dad did not come to an early demise.

Two wheels

Family stories should be about our oral history becoming embedded into written form so that future generations know a bit more about their ancestors. I giggle when I recall the lawnmower and road roller stories as they say a bit about fortune and misfortune and interpretation of events at that moment in time.

Who would have thought that the lawnmower in the skip would have been repaired so cheaply and go on to give excellent service for many years to come. And a bit like putting the thing in the skip, why on earth did bro jump?

I suppose on both accounts, decisions were made at each moment in time based on the information and assessment of that information by those that were in a position to make a decision.

We had a family member who died in a bike crash, and I remember as a young man, I wanted to have a motorbike. Well nothing strange there then, because girls and motorbikes were the order of the day. Given that I wasn’t able to get and keep the one, trying to get the other seemed at the time to be a good idea. When selecting a two wheeled story linked to my bro, I could of course have written about my butchers bike from my Saturday job, or bro standing the terms so that I could buy a Carlton 5 speed racing bike while I paid him back from my Saturday job, of which I am also extremely grateful.

But the thing is I found a guarantor for that motorbike purchase and I am extremely grateful that bro changed their mind and stopped the bike idea stone dead. Because if he hadn’t: then it might have been me travelling downhill without brakes and ending up in a skip.