The Story of Cancer and Greed
and the loss of a talent that took years to return
(The decades of Doctor Who work by Julian Vince can be viewed on his main website-
julianvince-daleks.weebly.com)
(The decades of Doctor Who work by Julian Vince can be viewed on his main website-
julianvince-daleks.weebly.com)
A Personal Message
"Loss, after loss, after loss... it takes a toll on your soul."
-Brooke Shields
"When your mum is alive, it's the best time of your life- and you don't even know it."
-Brigette Neilson
-Brooke Shields
"When your mum is alive, it's the best time of your life- and you don't even know it."
-Brigette Neilson
_________________________________________________
CAUSE AND CONSEQUENCE
In September, 2000, my mum died of bone cancer. I was her carer until the end.
Only 6 weeks earlier, in August 2000, I was deliberately cheated by a dealer's greed. He was fully aware of my terminally ill mum.
Now, in January 2014, as a direct result of those events, I will be losing my family home of 80 years. It will be taken by an ignorant and uncaring council.
So I would like the opportunity on this site to explain, to a wider audience, some of the things along the way which have led to this unjust and destructive conclusion, all created for me by the initial selfish actions of greed, over goodness.
There is a lot to read and take in, but I hope it all makes sense to the casual reader who knows nothing about any of this. Everything needs to be read, and all the photos looked at to give the fullest explanation (so far) of events that have all led to the current outcome.
In terms of the object I was cheated out of, it was relevant to me, but could have been another item had I a different interest. So, it could have been a signed football. A rare car. A valuable pair of shoes, etc. It is all about the principle of what has been done and the years of misery that have resulted.
Have you ever lost the ability to work? I would like to hear from other people who have also suffered with this condition. If anyone reading this can relate to it all then it would be good to hear that I'm not alone with what I've gone through. I have never experienced loss of ability to work. I've always loved the creative work that I'd done since I was a child, most of which was done easily, and naturally. But I cannot be the only person on the planet that this has happened to. Maybe it's very rare, but it is never the less responsible for the many things that have happened to me since. Had it not happened I would have been living the life that I was meant to, rather than this enforced recovery of nearly a decade...
CAUSE AND CONSEQUENCE
In September, 2000, my mum died of bone cancer. I was her carer until the end.
Only 6 weeks earlier, in August 2000, I was deliberately cheated by a dealer's greed. He was fully aware of my terminally ill mum.
Now, in January 2014, as a direct result of those events, I will be losing my family home of 80 years. It will be taken by an ignorant and uncaring council.
So I would like the opportunity on this site to explain, to a wider audience, some of the things along the way which have led to this unjust and destructive conclusion, all created for me by the initial selfish actions of greed, over goodness.
There is a lot to read and take in, but I hope it all makes sense to the casual reader who knows nothing about any of this. Everything needs to be read, and all the photos looked at to give the fullest explanation (so far) of events that have all led to the current outcome.
In terms of the object I was cheated out of, it was relevant to me, but could have been another item had I a different interest. So, it could have been a signed football. A rare car. A valuable pair of shoes, etc. It is all about the principle of what has been done and the years of misery that have resulted.
Have you ever lost the ability to work? I would like to hear from other people who have also suffered with this condition. If anyone reading this can relate to it all then it would be good to hear that I'm not alone with what I've gone through. I have never experienced loss of ability to work. I've always loved the creative work that I'd done since I was a child, most of which was done easily, and naturally. But I cannot be the only person on the planet that this has happened to. Maybe it's very rare, but it is never the less responsible for the many things that have happened to me since. Had it not happened I would have been living the life that I was meant to, rather than this enforced recovery of nearly a decade...
_________________________________________________
REVIEWING THE SITUATION
How do you convey things to those who haven't experienced them? It's difficult. Some things are common to all, and some things are very rare or specific. At times, to explain a situation, you can say it in just a few words, or a phrase. That's what makes songs so popular, they can say so much with a few well chosen lines.
But then there are the things that need more explaining, and more details to give it the perspective it requires, in the hope that others can understand it also. If others can't relate to it then it just isolates you further. You end up being the only one to tell the story of what has happened. You end up alone with dealing with it all, and in trying to seek a solution.
It seems having principals is all very well, if you can afford them. But in seeking the peaceful path all I've done is end up losing more things, including years of my life to extreme ill health. By withdrawing from the world and slowly recovering my abilities and talent in my own time and my own way, it has (the council have told me) taken much too long. My reward for my own self-healing is to now have my family home, of 80 years, taken from me.
I am about to pay the ultimate price for someone else's selfish greed and pleasure.
As so much of what has happened to me during the past 13 years has been hidden away, then, with what is unfairly about to be done to me now, there seems little point in not sharing many of the details.
REVIEWING THE SITUATION
How do you convey things to those who haven't experienced them? It's difficult. Some things are common to all, and some things are very rare or specific. At times, to explain a situation, you can say it in just a few words, or a phrase. That's what makes songs so popular, they can say so much with a few well chosen lines.
But then there are the things that need more explaining, and more details to give it the perspective it requires, in the hope that others can understand it also. If others can't relate to it then it just isolates you further. You end up being the only one to tell the story of what has happened. You end up alone with dealing with it all, and in trying to seek a solution.
It seems having principals is all very well, if you can afford them. But in seeking the peaceful path all I've done is end up losing more things, including years of my life to extreme ill health. By withdrawing from the world and slowly recovering my abilities and talent in my own time and my own way, it has (the council have told me) taken much too long. My reward for my own self-healing is to now have my family home, of 80 years, taken from me.
I am about to pay the ultimate price for someone else's selfish greed and pleasure.
As so much of what has happened to me during the past 13 years has been hidden away, then, with what is unfairly about to be done to me now, there seems little point in not sharing many of the details.
_________________________________________________
WHO...?
Who am I? I'm basically an artist, but have become mainly known as someone who makes models, props, and sets, specialising in the Doctor Who series, especially Daleks.
I've become rather 'typecast', as I can do other work, too, and welcome the opportunity, but my creations have tended to be 3-dimensional items, built from wood, metal, fibre glass, plastic, or sculpted from clay and made into rubber. I like artwork too and illustration to.
I was a co-winner of a Royal Society of Arts prize, back in the 1980s, and currently some of my old modelwork is on display at The National Media Museum, in Bradford. ( although my council refused to either look at or hear about my work, the Media Museum obviously appreciated its history...)
I have always enjoyed the things I've made, but following years of lack of ability to do the work, my years of recovery were about to bring me back to doing my best work yet. That will now not happen.
WHO...?
Who am I? I'm basically an artist, but have become mainly known as someone who makes models, props, and sets, specialising in the Doctor Who series, especially Daleks.
I've become rather 'typecast', as I can do other work, too, and welcome the opportunity, but my creations have tended to be 3-dimensional items, built from wood, metal, fibre glass, plastic, or sculpted from clay and made into rubber. I like artwork too and illustration to.
I was a co-winner of a Royal Society of Arts prize, back in the 1980s, and currently some of my old modelwork is on display at The National Media Museum, in Bradford. ( although my council refused to either look at or hear about my work, the Media Museum obviously appreciated its history...)
I have always enjoyed the things I've made, but following years of lack of ability to do the work, my years of recovery were about to bring me back to doing my best work yet. That will now not happen.
_________________________________________________
2000
I will now relate the two main events that took place in the year 2000, which changed my life onto the path that has resulted in me shortly losing my family home. The first event, in August, created the greatest devastation by far to me, by its cruelty, but I will start with the second event first, the loss of my mum to bone cancer. I will not say much about it, and am only doing this now as I have been forced into it by the consequences from that time.
2000
I will now relate the two main events that took place in the year 2000, which changed my life onto the path that has resulted in me shortly losing my family home. The first event, in August, created the greatest devastation by far to me, by its cruelty, but I will start with the second event first, the loss of my mum to bone cancer. I will not say much about it, and am only doing this now as I have been forced into it by the consequences from that time.
_________________________________________________
MY MOTHER'S FUNERAL
My mum died quiet quickly, months earlier than I was expecting (even the hospital nurse was shocked). One of the last things I remember her saying was, "Julian, they say I'm riddled with cancer..."
I got a phone call to go in and speak to them. They told me she only had a few weeks left at most, but within hours of my arrival at the hospital, she had died. Thankfully, I was by her side when it happened.
In the days leading up to her funeral, which I was in charge of, I fitted in a huge amount of preparation and work to ensure it was all as perfect as possible. Having been a family of animal lovers, it seemed only natural to have a horse-drawn carriage. I added a little toy cat and dog, to represent our past pets. I made velvet cushions for them as they sat 'on guard' either side of her coffin, on her last journey.
Being a photographer, and also, for the first time ever, the person who was conducting the funeral, I realised I would not see the event if I didn't capture it on film. I asked others to bring their cameras. A few did. I managed to get a good record of the entire proceedings. This helped to fill in a likely future regret of missing out on the memory of it. The person who's running an event is always the one to miss out on seeing it all.
I also came up with the idea of giving out tiny little teddy bears to each person who came to her funeral. They were just 3" tall, but gave people something to hold while they listened to the address and the music being played.
I was shocked at who didn't turn up for her. People we'd known for years and thought better of. They gave 'washing my hair' type excuses. I didn't challenge them as it spoke volumes about them. I simply have never spoken to them again, and would avoid them like the plague, forever more. They made their choice.
The whole funeral went perfectly, and was beautiful. Hiring the horses lifted the whole occasion to a greater level that absorbed a lot of the sadness. I would highly recommend it. She would have loved the whole event.
However, there was one upsetting moment (for me) that has stayed with me for years and years (yet another thing to overcome).
I played various music that my mum had liked, including Boyzone's "No Matter What". But the one piece I still struggle with when I hear it is Abba singing, "Chiquitita".
The days weather had been dry, but overcast, sad to reflect the mood. But, overwhelmingly, during that specific song the clouds broke, and the sun shone. It gently streamed through the chapel window onto my mum's coffin. If you know the words of that song well, you'll know why it's so incredibly appropriate. Seeing that, and hearing that songs lyrics, has been upsetting for me ever since...
When the funeral was over, and all of my work was done, I walked out of the chapel and was empty and lost. It's taken years to sort out and deal with so many things from those days, in 2000.
With all the troublesome things that have happened since then it wasn't until Mother's Day 2013, that I finally felt able to scatter some of her ashes around a blossom tree. They'd been waiting for 13 years.
These are a selection of photographs showing my mums funeral, in 2000.
MY MOTHER'S FUNERAL
My mum died quiet quickly, months earlier than I was expecting (even the hospital nurse was shocked). One of the last things I remember her saying was, "Julian, they say I'm riddled with cancer..."
I got a phone call to go in and speak to them. They told me she only had a few weeks left at most, but within hours of my arrival at the hospital, she had died. Thankfully, I was by her side when it happened.
In the days leading up to her funeral, which I was in charge of, I fitted in a huge amount of preparation and work to ensure it was all as perfect as possible. Having been a family of animal lovers, it seemed only natural to have a horse-drawn carriage. I added a little toy cat and dog, to represent our past pets. I made velvet cushions for them as they sat 'on guard' either side of her coffin, on her last journey.
Being a photographer, and also, for the first time ever, the person who was conducting the funeral, I realised I would not see the event if I didn't capture it on film. I asked others to bring their cameras. A few did. I managed to get a good record of the entire proceedings. This helped to fill in a likely future regret of missing out on the memory of it. The person who's running an event is always the one to miss out on seeing it all.
I also came up with the idea of giving out tiny little teddy bears to each person who came to her funeral. They were just 3" tall, but gave people something to hold while they listened to the address and the music being played.
I was shocked at who didn't turn up for her. People we'd known for years and thought better of. They gave 'washing my hair' type excuses. I didn't challenge them as it spoke volumes about them. I simply have never spoken to them again, and would avoid them like the plague, forever more. They made their choice.
The whole funeral went perfectly, and was beautiful. Hiring the horses lifted the whole occasion to a greater level that absorbed a lot of the sadness. I would highly recommend it. She would have loved the whole event.
However, there was one upsetting moment (for me) that has stayed with me for years and years (yet another thing to overcome).
I played various music that my mum had liked, including Boyzone's "No Matter What". But the one piece I still struggle with when I hear it is Abba singing, "Chiquitita".
The days weather had been dry, but overcast, sad to reflect the mood. But, overwhelmingly, during that specific song the clouds broke, and the sun shone. It gently streamed through the chapel window onto my mum's coffin. If you know the words of that song well, you'll know why it's so incredibly appropriate. Seeing that, and hearing that songs lyrics, has been upsetting for me ever since...
When the funeral was over, and all of my work was done, I walked out of the chapel and was empty and lost. It's taken years to sort out and deal with so many things from those days, in 2000.
With all the troublesome things that have happened since then it wasn't until Mother's Day 2013, that I finally felt able to scatter some of her ashes around a blossom tree. They'd been waiting for 13 years.
These are a selection of photographs showing my mums funeral, in 2000.
_________________________________________________
MY WORK
A million people in Britain work nights. Work that is not typical or part of the crowd, is what I do.
It is easy to talk about the work you do when a million others do it, but office, or factory work is not my thing. It's a bit more difficult to explain the complications of hand made, craft items as it is often done in isolation, and involves many varied disciplines. The entertainment world uses all sorts of things, so the more you can do the better.
I like working with lots of different materials, and making all kinds of weird and wonderful things. The ability to use everyday shop-bought items and make them into other things, like they did on Blue Peter, is always useful. A pantomime can have an extremely varied list of demands, often just to use to get a laugh for one joke. But all these things must be found, or made.
A Dalek is a very good example of all the different skills and knowledge that you need to make just one finished prop. A ton of materials are needed and the ability to know how to work them into the completed article, that people will love, takes years of learning. I started back in the 1970s, so know my stuff in certain areas. Long before lasers, and machines made some of the work easy, I was doing it all by hand and alone.
So when I had my ability to do my work taken from me, it took a very long time to get back to where I was.
MY WORK
A million people in Britain work nights. Work that is not typical or part of the crowd, is what I do.
It is easy to talk about the work you do when a million others do it, but office, or factory work is not my thing. It's a bit more difficult to explain the complications of hand made, craft items as it is often done in isolation, and involves many varied disciplines. The entertainment world uses all sorts of things, so the more you can do the better.
I like working with lots of different materials, and making all kinds of weird and wonderful things. The ability to use everyday shop-bought items and make them into other things, like they did on Blue Peter, is always useful. A pantomime can have an extremely varied list of demands, often just to use to get a laugh for one joke. But all these things must be found, or made.
A Dalek is a very good example of all the different skills and knowledge that you need to make just one finished prop. A ton of materials are needed and the ability to know how to work them into the completed article, that people will love, takes years of learning. I started back in the 1970s, so know my stuff in certain areas. Long before lasers, and machines made some of the work easy, I was doing it all by hand and alone.
So when I had my ability to do my work taken from me, it took a very long time to get back to where I was.
_________________________________________________
THE CARER AND THE COULDN'T CARE LESS
In 1999, my mum was diagnosed with terminal bone cancer.
She had survived breast cancer several years earlier, so this news came as a terrible shock when we were told.
If you have read about my life's work on my website, then you will understand that I was there in the early days of Doctor Who (1960s), and also of fandom (1970s). From 1972 onward, I have spent my life creating and perfecting models, props, sets, information, etc. Giving rather than taking. Making rather than destroying. That is what creative people do.
Yet despite all of my input into the world of Doctor Who, and of my being there, ahead of all of those Dalek makers and fans, who came afterwards, the one thing I've never owned is an original Dalek.
I've seen, examined, and even operated loads of original props over the years (18 plus...). Every version that was made in the 1960s, '70s, and '80s from TV, film, and stage plays, has passed in front of me for my eager inspection. In fact, I'd say that there's no one on the planet who knows as much about all of their intimate details, constructions, and changes as I do (I haven't given all of my information away). Such knowledge is how you become an expert in your field of study, and I certainly know my stuff on this subject! It's a shame I wasn't around to design a new Dalek.
So, when I was approached by someone with an original Dalek prop, that he was looking to sell, naturally I was interested. I'd become well established and known throughout the country for my Dalek work, at that time (over many years). People used to come to me for advice and information on making them.
THE CARER AND THE COULDN'T CARE LESS
In 1999, my mum was diagnosed with terminal bone cancer.
She had survived breast cancer several years earlier, so this news came as a terrible shock when we were told.
If you have read about my life's work on my website, then you will understand that I was there in the early days of Doctor Who (1960s), and also of fandom (1970s). From 1972 onward, I have spent my life creating and perfecting models, props, sets, information, etc. Giving rather than taking. Making rather than destroying. That is what creative people do.
Yet despite all of my input into the world of Doctor Who, and of my being there, ahead of all of those Dalek makers and fans, who came afterwards, the one thing I've never owned is an original Dalek.
I've seen, examined, and even operated loads of original props over the years (18 plus...). Every version that was made in the 1960s, '70s, and '80s from TV, film, and stage plays, has passed in front of me for my eager inspection. In fact, I'd say that there's no one on the planet who knows as much about all of their intimate details, constructions, and changes as I do (I haven't given all of my information away). Such knowledge is how you become an expert in your field of study, and I certainly know my stuff on this subject! It's a shame I wasn't around to design a new Dalek.
So, when I was approached by someone with an original Dalek prop, that he was looking to sell, naturally I was interested. I'd become well established and known throughout the country for my Dalek work, at that time (over many years). People used to come to me for advice and information on making them.
Eventually, we agreed a deal. The owner wanted me to make some highly detailed, top quality items for him in exchange for his, rather poor quality, but mostly original 1960s Dalek. So, in late 1998, I began the groundwork on his items, and started the actual work in early '99. As this Dalek owner lived up North, it meant contact was by letter or telephone, with instructions from him on what he wanted from me, I had a great amount to do to meet his demands as I had to create what he wanted from scratch. Things seemed fine.
But several months later, my mum received the devastating news that her cancer had returned. The diagnosis that she now had terminal cancer changed the shape of things dramatically. Understandably, she was now my priority.
As any decent person would, I naturally became her carer.
As her condition gradually worsened over the following months, I had a lot to do. I was extremely stretched, what with all the hospital visits, treatments, operations, and general day to day looking after, while also continuing the Dalek swap work for this man. But I felt I coped well. Anyone who has been a carer will know what I'm talking about, those who haven't will not know the pressures, or understand the experience. It's almost a secret, hidden and isolated world, where only like will understand like.
I carried on as best I could, and eventually in August 2000, I contacted the Dalek swap owner (who had been distant and not shown the greatest of concern for my situation during this whole period) to agree a time for him to come down to London to meet and swap, and finally complete the deal. I couldn't wait for it to be over, so I could then turn my full attention to looking after my mum, who by now was half her weight and bedridden.
But I was in for a major shock. As I soon discovered, instead of us meeting up in London, a letter arrived from the Dalek swap man, telling me that he had changed his mind about the Dalek and decided to keep the prop for himself rather than get rid of it, and he realised that I'd be "disappointed".
This seemed unbelievable, but the truth soon emerged. In fact, during the previous week while he had been on 'holiday', he had actually done a private deal behind my back, with a fellow dealer and good friend of his who lived near London. They had cheated me.
So, I lost the Dalek, that rightfully should have been mine, I had lost all of the money I'd paid out for the materials needed for the work I'd been doing for him, and I had wasted all of the energy, and hard work and skill that had been put into his commissioned items. I was left with nothing. But the greatest loss created, and the, worst thing they both did, was to steal from me the precious and irreplaceable time that had been wasted working for nothing when, had I known the outcome, I should have spent it being together with my mum in the last months of her life. Such theft is unforgivable.
On top of all of this, as I was so busy looking after my mum, I loaned a valuable item to another Doctor Who fan for his charity to make use of for fund raising. It was entrusted to him (I had loaned things out for charity use with no problems for many years), but according to him, it was "taken", and he was such a coward that he did not report it to me until I made the contact to find out what was going on. "I was too embarrassed to tell you...'' was all he could say. I've never seen the item again. There are some horrible people out there.
But the worst was still to come, and only a month after I had been cheated, my mum died. Thankfully, at least I was with her when it happened.
So, with all of this to deal with, my ability to work simply got up and left.
After all, what is the point of working so very hard for something, at such a major time in your life, if you don't even get that thing at the end. As a direct result of what those two men did to me I was left empty, drained of any ability to do any of my previous work. If you'd given me a million pounds, I could not have even hammered a nail into a piece of wood, let alone do any of the highly detailed work I'd been known for, (In fact, now, a million pounds would solve a lot of problems I've been left with).
Instead I got not so much as a penny or any other form of compensation for what has happened.
From 2000 onwards, the decade of zeros quickly became zero for me, as I went on to suffer many years of extreme ill health and lack of ability, in an attempt to get my "mojo" back. I used funds that should have solved other problems, to slowly, a bit at a time, get myself well again.
My life from 2000 onward, should have been very different from what it was actually made into for me, and I'm still left with the injustice of what caused it all in the first place. The two who did this to me have got away with it scot free.
The consequences of what they both did, like ripples from a stone thrown into water, have been far reaching, and shouldn't even exist for me in the first place. If the TARDIS were real, I would go back and put things right and make sure that I never even met either of them from day one.
Instead, I can only make up for some of the losses caused, myself. It's completely unfair, but what else can I do? I'm even considering looking for an original Dalek again so at least I might be able to get 'closure' on that issue, but it's not much compensation all the long years of ill health I've suffered.
So be warned, there are some horrible, ruthless, greedy dealers and people out there, whose only way to get what they want is by cheating. I didn't make these people the way they are, but I've certainly had to suffer them. It speaks volumes about them and how they think that they consider it acceptable to operate in that way. But then pathetic, greedy people do pathetic, greedy things, all for the sake of adding to their collections...
It's strange how all of the years of morality that Doctor Who teaches, is lost on some people.
We can think ourselves lucky that we are not them.
But several months later, my mum received the devastating news that her cancer had returned. The diagnosis that she now had terminal cancer changed the shape of things dramatically. Understandably, she was now my priority.
As any decent person would, I naturally became her carer.
As her condition gradually worsened over the following months, I had a lot to do. I was extremely stretched, what with all the hospital visits, treatments, operations, and general day to day looking after, while also continuing the Dalek swap work for this man. But I felt I coped well. Anyone who has been a carer will know what I'm talking about, those who haven't will not know the pressures, or understand the experience. It's almost a secret, hidden and isolated world, where only like will understand like.
I carried on as best I could, and eventually in August 2000, I contacted the Dalek swap owner (who had been distant and not shown the greatest of concern for my situation during this whole period) to agree a time for him to come down to London to meet and swap, and finally complete the deal. I couldn't wait for it to be over, so I could then turn my full attention to looking after my mum, who by now was half her weight and bedridden.
But I was in for a major shock. As I soon discovered, instead of us meeting up in London, a letter arrived from the Dalek swap man, telling me that he had changed his mind about the Dalek and decided to keep the prop for himself rather than get rid of it, and he realised that I'd be "disappointed".
This seemed unbelievable, but the truth soon emerged. In fact, during the previous week while he had been on 'holiday', he had actually done a private deal behind my back, with a fellow dealer and good friend of his who lived near London. They had cheated me.
So, I lost the Dalek, that rightfully should have been mine, I had lost all of the money I'd paid out for the materials needed for the work I'd been doing for him, and I had wasted all of the energy, and hard work and skill that had been put into his commissioned items. I was left with nothing. But the greatest loss created, and the, worst thing they both did, was to steal from me the precious and irreplaceable time that had been wasted working for nothing when, had I known the outcome, I should have spent it being together with my mum in the last months of her life. Such theft is unforgivable.
On top of all of this, as I was so busy looking after my mum, I loaned a valuable item to another Doctor Who fan for his charity to make use of for fund raising. It was entrusted to him (I had loaned things out for charity use with no problems for many years), but according to him, it was "taken", and he was such a coward that he did not report it to me until I made the contact to find out what was going on. "I was too embarrassed to tell you...'' was all he could say. I've never seen the item again. There are some horrible people out there.
But the worst was still to come, and only a month after I had been cheated, my mum died. Thankfully, at least I was with her when it happened.
So, with all of this to deal with, my ability to work simply got up and left.
After all, what is the point of working so very hard for something, at such a major time in your life, if you don't even get that thing at the end. As a direct result of what those two men did to me I was left empty, drained of any ability to do any of my previous work. If you'd given me a million pounds, I could not have even hammered a nail into a piece of wood, let alone do any of the highly detailed work I'd been known for, (In fact, now, a million pounds would solve a lot of problems I've been left with).
Instead I got not so much as a penny or any other form of compensation for what has happened.
From 2000 onwards, the decade of zeros quickly became zero for me, as I went on to suffer many years of extreme ill health and lack of ability, in an attempt to get my "mojo" back. I used funds that should have solved other problems, to slowly, a bit at a time, get myself well again.
My life from 2000 onward, should have been very different from what it was actually made into for me, and I'm still left with the injustice of what caused it all in the first place. The two who did this to me have got away with it scot free.
The consequences of what they both did, like ripples from a stone thrown into water, have been far reaching, and shouldn't even exist for me in the first place. If the TARDIS were real, I would go back and put things right and make sure that I never even met either of them from day one.
Instead, I can only make up for some of the losses caused, myself. It's completely unfair, but what else can I do? I'm even considering looking for an original Dalek again so at least I might be able to get 'closure' on that issue, but it's not much compensation all the long years of ill health I've suffered.
So be warned, there are some horrible, ruthless, greedy dealers and people out there, whose only way to get what they want is by cheating. I didn't make these people the way they are, but I've certainly had to suffer them. It speaks volumes about them and how they think that they consider it acceptable to operate in that way. But then pathetic, greedy people do pathetic, greedy things, all for the sake of adding to their collections...
It's strange how all of the years of morality that Doctor Who teaches, is lost on some people.
We can think ourselves lucky that we are not them.
_________________________________________________
THE LETTER
The following description is of my receiving a letter, that changed my life forever. One piece of paper that was loaded with so much damage that I have only looked at it perhaps four times in 13 years. The beginning of my private hell.
With events turning out the way they have for me, there now seems little point in not showing it to everyone. It has taken me two weeks to get the strength together to write this particular chapter...
My birthday is the 9th of August. With my being a carer for my dying mum, I was not much interested in the month of August, in 2000. I was already very busy with the day to day things that are required when you are looking after someone who is ill and bedridden. I have no brothers or sisters, so I was on my own with the 24 hour care.
Regarding the original Dalek prop, I had, by this time, agreed to a change in the items that were to be exchanged with the man from Blackpool, in order to complete the whole deal. He had previously sent me letters about various aspects of the work I was doing for him, often telling me that he was always being made offers for his film Dalek, and putting more pressure on me to complete his work. His cold nature towards my situation with my mum, was reflected in his writing.
By the end of July 2000, he had informed me that he would be away for a while on holiday. It was the holiday season, so there was no reason to question that information, although it did seem a little odd that his 'rush, rush' attitude towards me had suddenly stopped just as we were about to complete the deal. I'd already informed him that I was looking to meet him in early August to finally do the swap of my work (that he had agreed to, and that I'd been doing since '99) for his original Dalek.
In fact by this time, my mum had actually said she'd give me money for my birthday which would buy the Dalek as a present from her. So finances were available which allowed the whole matter to be resolved, partly so I could be rid of him and his work, and then just concentrate on looking after my mum.
As he lived in Blackpool, and I was down in London, he was going to hire a van and bring the Dalek to me taking back the items that I had made for him, on his return journey. He had given a likely date of the Sunday, following his return from his summer holidays. Everything seemed fine and I couldn't wait to hear from him and get it all over with.
Now comes the hard bit...
Although his actions in cheating me were deliberate, it was just the worst possible coincidence that when the swap was to take place was around my birthday. He knew nothing of when my birthday was, or the fact that it was being given to me partly by my mum as a birthday present and as a thank you from her for my looking after her as she was ill. I had naturally already been looking after her out of love, as it is the only currency I value. It was my only incentive. Money is not my god.
It is very important to make the distinction between a carer and a parent. A parent is looking after and nurturing someone who is growing, and who has a big future ahead of them. A life is being built. A carer is usually looking after someone whose life has slowed, or is reaching its end. It may not be for months, or for years, but the view ahead is really about the approaching destination, the ending, not the flourishing and blooming of the coming decades.
So, as any carer will tell you, you get behind with the many things you need to do when looking after someone who cannot do those things for themselves any more. On the 9th of August, my birthday came and went. The year before, my mum was still able to get about, so had bought me a present and a card. But in 2000, she was now bedridden and only left the house for hospital visits and cancer treatment.
She had asked me to go and get a card and a cake for my birthday, on her behalf. She wanted to sign the card, as that was the simplest thing that she could do. My birthday present would eventually arrive by van from up north.
I can't remember exactly which day the letter arrived. As you can see written on it, he had dated it the 8th of August. The Lancashire postmark on the envelope it was sent in says the 10th of August. All I know is, for once in their lives the Royal Mail delivered a letter, over a great distance, very quickly. It either arrived on the 10th, or the 11th. I have spent years trying to blank the whole thing out. All I know is that it was sitting on the doormat waiting for me as I was about to go out.
When I left the house, my mum would be entirely on her own until I got back. If I had to do shopping, get medicine, or whatever it was, she would not be able to do a thing until I returned. So when I went anywhere, I did it as quickly as possible.
I had finally got to the point where I was able to go out and get the birthday card that my mum kept asking me not to forget, so that she could sign it. It sounds so trivial, but it was important to her that I got it.
This is the event that has haunted me for 13 years now.
It was August, it was sunny out, I went to the front door to go into Wimbledon (I was aiming for W.H.Smiths) to get my own birthday card on behalf of my mum. On the doormat was an envelope that I instantly recognised as being from the Blackpool man. I realised it would be the date he'd chosen for when he would come down to do the Dalek swap. I opened it expecting to see a short letter with a day, date, and time. Instead, it was a long letter. The one you see shown here.
THE LETTER
The following description is of my receiving a letter, that changed my life forever. One piece of paper that was loaded with so much damage that I have only looked at it perhaps four times in 13 years. The beginning of my private hell.
With events turning out the way they have for me, there now seems little point in not showing it to everyone. It has taken me two weeks to get the strength together to write this particular chapter...
My birthday is the 9th of August. With my being a carer for my dying mum, I was not much interested in the month of August, in 2000. I was already very busy with the day to day things that are required when you are looking after someone who is ill and bedridden. I have no brothers or sisters, so I was on my own with the 24 hour care.
Regarding the original Dalek prop, I had, by this time, agreed to a change in the items that were to be exchanged with the man from Blackpool, in order to complete the whole deal. He had previously sent me letters about various aspects of the work I was doing for him, often telling me that he was always being made offers for his film Dalek, and putting more pressure on me to complete his work. His cold nature towards my situation with my mum, was reflected in his writing.
By the end of July 2000, he had informed me that he would be away for a while on holiday. It was the holiday season, so there was no reason to question that information, although it did seem a little odd that his 'rush, rush' attitude towards me had suddenly stopped just as we were about to complete the deal. I'd already informed him that I was looking to meet him in early August to finally do the swap of my work (that he had agreed to, and that I'd been doing since '99) for his original Dalek.
In fact by this time, my mum had actually said she'd give me money for my birthday which would buy the Dalek as a present from her. So finances were available which allowed the whole matter to be resolved, partly so I could be rid of him and his work, and then just concentrate on looking after my mum.
As he lived in Blackpool, and I was down in London, he was going to hire a van and bring the Dalek to me taking back the items that I had made for him, on his return journey. He had given a likely date of the Sunday, following his return from his summer holidays. Everything seemed fine and I couldn't wait to hear from him and get it all over with.
Now comes the hard bit...
Although his actions in cheating me were deliberate, it was just the worst possible coincidence that when the swap was to take place was around my birthday. He knew nothing of when my birthday was, or the fact that it was being given to me partly by my mum as a birthday present and as a thank you from her for my looking after her as she was ill. I had naturally already been looking after her out of love, as it is the only currency I value. It was my only incentive. Money is not my god.
It is very important to make the distinction between a carer and a parent. A parent is looking after and nurturing someone who is growing, and who has a big future ahead of them. A life is being built. A carer is usually looking after someone whose life has slowed, or is reaching its end. It may not be for months, or for years, but the view ahead is really about the approaching destination, the ending, not the flourishing and blooming of the coming decades.
So, as any carer will tell you, you get behind with the many things you need to do when looking after someone who cannot do those things for themselves any more. On the 9th of August, my birthday came and went. The year before, my mum was still able to get about, so had bought me a present and a card. But in 2000, she was now bedridden and only left the house for hospital visits and cancer treatment.
She had asked me to go and get a card and a cake for my birthday, on her behalf. She wanted to sign the card, as that was the simplest thing that she could do. My birthday present would eventually arrive by van from up north.
I can't remember exactly which day the letter arrived. As you can see written on it, he had dated it the 8th of August. The Lancashire postmark on the envelope it was sent in says the 10th of August. All I know is, for once in their lives the Royal Mail delivered a letter, over a great distance, very quickly. It either arrived on the 10th, or the 11th. I have spent years trying to blank the whole thing out. All I know is that it was sitting on the doormat waiting for me as I was about to go out.
When I left the house, my mum would be entirely on her own until I got back. If I had to do shopping, get medicine, or whatever it was, she would not be able to do a thing until I returned. So when I went anywhere, I did it as quickly as possible.
I had finally got to the point where I was able to go out and get the birthday card that my mum kept asking me not to forget, so that she could sign it. It sounds so trivial, but it was important to her that I got it.
This is the event that has haunted me for 13 years now.
It was August, it was sunny out, I went to the front door to go into Wimbledon (I was aiming for W.H.Smiths) to get my own birthday card on behalf of my mum. On the doormat was an envelope that I instantly recognised as being from the Blackpool man. I realised it would be the date he'd chosen for when he would come down to do the Dalek swap. I opened it expecting to see a short letter with a day, date, and time. Instead, it was a long letter. The one you see shown here.
I could not believe what I read. It said that he had changed his mind, and was keeping the Dalek after all. It made no sense. All he'd kept on and on about for over a year, was how he was going to sell it if I didn't give him the work I was doing for him. The last thing he wanted to do was to keep it...
Instead of going out to the shops, I turned around and went back upstairs. I never stepped foot outside, never even put my hand on the door lock. I took it to show my mum, reading what it said, in disbelief. I was in shock. A year and a half's work for nothing? I went and lay on my bed. I was totally drained. I stayed there for at least an hour.
I heard my mum call out. As I was silent, she'd thought I'd gone out, but I couldn't be bothered. I heard her slowly walking along the landing. She was half her weight by now and had to walk with two sticks. She called out to me.
"Julian, will you please get the birthday card so I can sign it. Please, Julian..." But I didn't want to know. Like Christmas songs after Christmas, the moment had passed, my birthday was gone and finished and I didn't want to think about it any more. It seemed pointless, now.
And that is when my life changed. An ill timed letter from a cheat, who has cheated me out of a lot more than just an old film prop. I suddenly didn't need to worry about doing his work any more. It was over, finished. And so was I, for years, and years.
My birthday has become a non-day, much like Christmas has, too. I could easily have gone and got a card at some point in the week after, but just couldn't see the point. I've had to live with the bitter regret of not listening to my mum and getting her my card, ever since. One of many things I would put right if I could, and if I knew of all the misery I was in for in the years ahead of me.
The final insult was when I found out that he had lied to me and sold the Dalek after all. It was already with a friend of his. This is where it ended up.
Instead of going out to the shops, I turned around and went back upstairs. I never stepped foot outside, never even put my hand on the door lock. I took it to show my mum, reading what it said, in disbelief. I was in shock. A year and a half's work for nothing? I went and lay on my bed. I was totally drained. I stayed there for at least an hour.
I heard my mum call out. As I was silent, she'd thought I'd gone out, but I couldn't be bothered. I heard her slowly walking along the landing. She was half her weight by now and had to walk with two sticks. She called out to me.
"Julian, will you please get the birthday card so I can sign it. Please, Julian..." But I didn't want to know. Like Christmas songs after Christmas, the moment had passed, my birthday was gone and finished and I didn't want to think about it any more. It seemed pointless, now.
And that is when my life changed. An ill timed letter from a cheat, who has cheated me out of a lot more than just an old film prop. I suddenly didn't need to worry about doing his work any more. It was over, finished. And so was I, for years, and years.
My birthday has become a non-day, much like Christmas has, too. I could easily have gone and got a card at some point in the week after, but just couldn't see the point. I've had to live with the bitter regret of not listening to my mum and getting her my card, ever since. One of many things I would put right if I could, and if I knew of all the misery I was in for in the years ahead of me.
The final insult was when I found out that he had lied to me and sold the Dalek after all. It was already with a friend of his. This is where it ended up.
(Additional information) I have recently found a card sent to me in August 2000, from the family of stuntman, Eddie Powell. It was to inform me of his death on the 11th August.
I had previously met Eddie, while filming a documentary, and at a dinner where I sat opposite him, and chatted about his work on the Dalek movie. He must have listed me in his address book.
Eddie was the original Alien, in the 1979 film. Stunt double for Christopher Lee, as Dracula, in the Hammer Horror films. And was part of the action in fight sequences in the Dalek Invasion Earth 2150 AD film.
The date on the envelope is postmarked 16th August, so must have arrived the following week. The writing on the card was minimal, so was initially confusing, until I realised who it was about.
I'd previously also met beloved actor Peter Cushing, at an event back in the 1980s. He had a great sense of humour, and (along with Eddie Powell) was also a true gentleman.
Peter Cushing died 11th August, 1994. Eddie Powell died 11th August, 2000.
If the letter that ruined my life arrived on the 11th, then that makes 3 unbelievable connections to the same date...
Peter Cushing played the Doctor, who defeated the Daleks. Eddie Powell, played a man who was exterminated by the Daleks. And I was destroyed after being cheated out of a Dalek. All three connected to the same 1966 film.
I had previously met Eddie, while filming a documentary, and at a dinner where I sat opposite him, and chatted about his work on the Dalek movie. He must have listed me in his address book.
Eddie was the original Alien, in the 1979 film. Stunt double for Christopher Lee, as Dracula, in the Hammer Horror films. And was part of the action in fight sequences in the Dalek Invasion Earth 2150 AD film.
The date on the envelope is postmarked 16th August, so must have arrived the following week. The writing on the card was minimal, so was initially confusing, until I realised who it was about.
I'd previously also met beloved actor Peter Cushing, at an event back in the 1980s. He had a great sense of humour, and (along with Eddie Powell) was also a true gentleman.
Peter Cushing died 11th August, 1994. Eddie Powell died 11th August, 2000.
If the letter that ruined my life arrived on the 11th, then that makes 3 unbelievable connections to the same date...
Peter Cushing played the Doctor, who defeated the Daleks. Eddie Powell, played a man who was exterminated by the Daleks. And I was destroyed after being cheated out of a Dalek. All three connected to the same 1966 film.
_________________________________________________
A PREVIOUS LETTER
A PREVIOUS LETTER
_________________________________________________
ORIGINAL DALEK
ORIGINAL DALEK
_________________________________________________
MY FAMILY & OTHERS
When people are gone all you have left are their things, their 'footprints', the proof that they existed and lived.
They are not meaningless. They can mean everything to some of us.
And my loving family members are now represented by the house I must have taken from me.
I will now tell you something of them and their existence, and of a few others who were also in my life...
MY FAMILY & OTHERS
When people are gone all you have left are their things, their 'footprints', the proof that they existed and lived.
They are not meaningless. They can mean everything to some of us.
And my loving family members are now represented by the house I must have taken from me.
I will now tell you something of them and their existence, and of a few others who were also in my life...
_________________________________________________
MY MUM
My mum was in my life for longer than any other person I've known. I don't want to say too much about her as I don't want to contaminate her life and memory any further into the misery I've suffered since she died, in 2000.
She didn't deserve the ending that she got, what with me ultimately wasting time on a load of work for a crook who took me away from her when she needed me most. I could have spent so much more precious time with her while she was dying. No amount of money can ever compensate me for those deliberate selfish, uncaring actions. You can't buy back wasted time that's taken from you. There's a lot of things that money doesn't solve...
My mum worked very hard all her life. She was kind, thoughtful to others, and very caring. Thinking of others feelings and concerns was partly born out of her dad dying when she was just 6 years old.
30 years later, the love of her life, my dad, also died. I was just 3 years old, and she had all of the trauma of looking after both her husband, who was ill with a brain tumour, and caring for me, a very young only child. Being so young, I don't have any real memories of this time (or if I do, I've blanked them out). So after my dad died in the 1960s, my mum had to be both mother and substitute father to me (in as much as any woman can be).
I learnt from her to be thoughtful and caring towards others, even though that's not something I've been around much in the past decade, or so.
After her mum died in the 1990s, and then her sister just a few years later, she soon discovered she had developed breast cancer. Following years of apparently surviving it all, she was diagnosed with secondary bone cancer, in 1999.
She never even made it to retirement, or even her 70th birthday. Her reward for a lifetimes hard work and worry was cancer. The world needed more people like her to make it a better place.
All of her years of work and care are about to be for nothing thanks to a callous council's decision.
MY MUM
My mum was in my life for longer than any other person I've known. I don't want to say too much about her as I don't want to contaminate her life and memory any further into the misery I've suffered since she died, in 2000.
She didn't deserve the ending that she got, what with me ultimately wasting time on a load of work for a crook who took me away from her when she needed me most. I could have spent so much more precious time with her while she was dying. No amount of money can ever compensate me for those deliberate selfish, uncaring actions. You can't buy back wasted time that's taken from you. There's a lot of things that money doesn't solve...
My mum worked very hard all her life. She was kind, thoughtful to others, and very caring. Thinking of others feelings and concerns was partly born out of her dad dying when she was just 6 years old.
30 years later, the love of her life, my dad, also died. I was just 3 years old, and she had all of the trauma of looking after both her husband, who was ill with a brain tumour, and caring for me, a very young only child. Being so young, I don't have any real memories of this time (or if I do, I've blanked them out). So after my dad died in the 1960s, my mum had to be both mother and substitute father to me (in as much as any woman can be).
I learnt from her to be thoughtful and caring towards others, even though that's not something I've been around much in the past decade, or so.
After her mum died in the 1990s, and then her sister just a few years later, she soon discovered she had developed breast cancer. Following years of apparently surviving it all, she was diagnosed with secondary bone cancer, in 1999.
She never even made it to retirement, or even her 70th birthday. Her reward for a lifetimes hard work and worry was cancer. The world needed more people like her to make it a better place.
All of her years of work and care are about to be for nothing thanks to a callous council's decision.
_________________________________________________
MY DAD
Most of my family upbringing was care of women, so I don't know what a dad is, or does. I've not had one since I was 3 years old.
He died aged just 48, and I've now outlived him, so I'm in uncharted territory. The year he died, 1966, has always had a special meaning for me as it is when he stopped, and I carried on. Like someone getting off at a station that you can never go back to. You can only ever look backwards to that time, and there is a comfort in that in the form of things that were also around then, such as my family home.
(It was one of the main reasons that the Dalek was of special interest to me, as it was 'born' in that year.)
I still have an old tape recording that was made of his voice, but in all these decades, I've never dared listen to it (will it even still play?). I am frightened of what I will hear. What will he say? Will I even like the sound of his voice? He will sound alive when he's been dead for nearly 50 years.
It is the 'genie' I have yet to let out of the bottle. He is 50% of me, but he is also a stranger to me...
When he died, my planet was pushed out of orbit forever, and it's been on an alternative course ever since.
MY DAD
Most of my family upbringing was care of women, so I don't know what a dad is, or does. I've not had one since I was 3 years old.
He died aged just 48, and I've now outlived him, so I'm in uncharted territory. The year he died, 1966, has always had a special meaning for me as it is when he stopped, and I carried on. Like someone getting off at a station that you can never go back to. You can only ever look backwards to that time, and there is a comfort in that in the form of things that were also around then, such as my family home.
(It was one of the main reasons that the Dalek was of special interest to me, as it was 'born' in that year.)
I still have an old tape recording that was made of his voice, but in all these decades, I've never dared listen to it (will it even still play?). I am frightened of what I will hear. What will he say? Will I even like the sound of his voice? He will sound alive when he's been dead for nearly 50 years.
It is the 'genie' I have yet to let out of the bottle. He is 50% of me, but he is also a stranger to me...
When he died, my planet was pushed out of orbit forever, and it's been on an alternative course ever since.
_________________________________________________
MY GRANDMOTHER
Together with my mum and her sister, the 3rd person I'd known for the longest part of my life was my grandmother.
She loved the music hall, and, with her sister, would often dress up and entertain at parties and on stage. She was a good seamstress, and made her own colourful costumes. She encouraged the artistic side of peoples natures, teaching my mum to sing and perform "Burlington Bertie", at the age of 5.
Her other daughter, though, had many problems to deal with, so her art never got very far. The public have never seen it.
My grandmothers husband died at the age of 36, while in Russia, and that became a time of long remembered problems.
She was always a helpful woman, and worked as a Red Cross nurse during the war, and after she'd died, (in the 1990s) my mum kept that photo of her, in her smart uniform, by her bedside.
Just two years before, we had both become her carers (my first time) as she was getting too weary to look after herself. In 2013, the old hospital where she had died, was demolished, leaving the family home as the only remaining place that she once was connected to.
MY GRANDMOTHER
Together with my mum and her sister, the 3rd person I'd known for the longest part of my life was my grandmother.
She loved the music hall, and, with her sister, would often dress up and entertain at parties and on stage. She was a good seamstress, and made her own colourful costumes. She encouraged the artistic side of peoples natures, teaching my mum to sing and perform "Burlington Bertie", at the age of 5.
Her other daughter, though, had many problems to deal with, so her art never got very far. The public have never seen it.
My grandmothers husband died at the age of 36, while in Russia, and that became a time of long remembered problems.
She was always a helpful woman, and worked as a Red Cross nurse during the war, and after she'd died, (in the 1990s) my mum kept that photo of her, in her smart uniform, by her bedside.
Just two years before, we had both become her carers (my first time) as she was getting too weary to look after herself. In 2013, the old hospital where she had died, was demolished, leaving the family home as the only remaining place that she once was connected to.
_________________________________________________
MY AUNT
My beloved aunt was a delicate and artistic soul. Troubled by ill health throughout her life, she had a great talent that came to nothing. Seeing that waste has been one of the reasons that I've pursued my own talents to give them a purpose, a goal, and to get my work seen in public, rather than just hidden away.
An example of her beautiful work is seen here.
I loved her, and she loved me. Her life and her history in our family house is about to be obliterated forever. Unforgivable.
MY AUNT
My beloved aunt was a delicate and artistic soul. Troubled by ill health throughout her life, she had a great talent that came to nothing. Seeing that waste has been one of the reasons that I've pursued my own talents to give them a purpose, a goal, and to get my work seen in public, rather than just hidden away.
An example of her beautiful work is seen here.
I loved her, and she loved me. Her life and her history in our family house is about to be obliterated forever. Unforgivable.
_________________________________________________
ROSALIE FREEMAN
My longest surviving family friend, was Rosalie Freeman. She knew all of my family members, including my dad. Whenever I see actress, Liz Smith (Royle Family) it very much reminds me of her.
When younger, Rosalie had to deal with an abusive husband who she eventually broke free from, but it caused her problems later in life, and she remained an independent person.
She was also a carer for her good friend Mable (they'd met as typists), who'd developed and suffered from Alzheimers, for many years. Rosalie was a very loyal and kind soul.
But in 2006, she went out to the shops and was involved in a tragic accident, that left her having to have both of her legs amputated. She was a young looking 80 year old, and it was all an unbelievable shock that something so terrible could happen to her. She only lived for two weeks afterwards, and I still can't quite believe that her life ended like that. It's proof that bad things happen to good people.
I say "hello" to her every time I go past her beloved home. A home that meant so much to her, and that she was parted from without even getting to say goodbye to it.
She was at my mum's funeral and can be seen walking out of the chapel.
I'd often go round to her for tea, and really miss being able to visit and chat to her.
ROSALIE FREEMAN
My longest surviving family friend, was Rosalie Freeman. She knew all of my family members, including my dad. Whenever I see actress, Liz Smith (Royle Family) it very much reminds me of her.
When younger, Rosalie had to deal with an abusive husband who she eventually broke free from, but it caused her problems later in life, and she remained an independent person.
She was also a carer for her good friend Mable (they'd met as typists), who'd developed and suffered from Alzheimers, for many years. Rosalie was a very loyal and kind soul.
But in 2006, she went out to the shops and was involved in a tragic accident, that left her having to have both of her legs amputated. She was a young looking 80 year old, and it was all an unbelievable shock that something so terrible could happen to her. She only lived for two weeks afterwards, and I still can't quite believe that her life ended like that. It's proof that bad things happen to good people.
I say "hello" to her every time I go past her beloved home. A home that meant so much to her, and that she was parted from without even getting to say goodbye to it.
She was at my mum's funeral and can be seen walking out of the chapel.
I'd often go round to her for tea, and really miss being able to visit and chat to her.
_________________________________________________
THE ALCOHOLIC
I recently heard comedian Ken Dodd, say "the best way to beat depression, is to make someone else happy". He was talking about the first Christmas time he'd spent alone after losing his family. It may account for what I did in the early days of loss...
A few years after my mum had died, having spent Christmas alone, I met a girl who I ended up taking on, as she was obviously desperate for help. She was, amongst other things, an alcoholic, and suffered with manic-depression (bi-polar 2, rapid cycling). It became a sharp learning curve for me.
She was getting nowhere in her life and was held back by many things, including years of guilt over a close friend who had committed suicide a long time ago. She had blamed herself for not doing more, and many years later, it had taken its toll on her and those she came into contact with. She brought a great deal of chaos to peoples lives with her actions.
At that time as I wasn't capable of working, had my own money to live on, and had nothing to do all day, I began what turned out to be an intense 2 years of help and healing for her. She started out 'Amy Winehouse thin', as most of her intake was alcohol. It was her god, and she worshipped it everyday. She stole a great deal from me, most of which paid for her 'drug' intake. I'm still searching for personal items that I hope I still have somewhere, and that she didn't just take to sell and buy drink.
Within six months of my help and encouragement, she had started to put on weight ( she'd been so thin that if you just lightly touched her skin it would instantly bruise). With much input and talking things through with me, she eventually blossomed and grew, and, despite lots of set backs, gradually began to change her destructive behaviour.
After two years, she seemed to be well enough to move on, so I parted company with her. She found someone soon after and got married. But whether, like hypnotism, the help I gave was soon to wear off, I don't know. Years later, I can only assume that she is still well, still married, and drink-free. If everything that we went through was made into a film it would be a very, very long movie...
But my help to her took it's toll on me, and accounted for a further 2 years to recover from the abuse that goes with being the 'carer' of a drunk.
THE ALCOHOLIC
I recently heard comedian Ken Dodd, say "the best way to beat depression, is to make someone else happy". He was talking about the first Christmas time he'd spent alone after losing his family. It may account for what I did in the early days of loss...
A few years after my mum had died, having spent Christmas alone, I met a girl who I ended up taking on, as she was obviously desperate for help. She was, amongst other things, an alcoholic, and suffered with manic-depression (bi-polar 2, rapid cycling). It became a sharp learning curve for me.
She was getting nowhere in her life and was held back by many things, including years of guilt over a close friend who had committed suicide a long time ago. She had blamed herself for not doing more, and many years later, it had taken its toll on her and those she came into contact with. She brought a great deal of chaos to peoples lives with her actions.
At that time as I wasn't capable of working, had my own money to live on, and had nothing to do all day, I began what turned out to be an intense 2 years of help and healing for her. She started out 'Amy Winehouse thin', as most of her intake was alcohol. It was her god, and she worshipped it everyday. She stole a great deal from me, most of which paid for her 'drug' intake. I'm still searching for personal items that I hope I still have somewhere, and that she didn't just take to sell and buy drink.
Within six months of my help and encouragement, she had started to put on weight ( she'd been so thin that if you just lightly touched her skin it would instantly bruise). With much input and talking things through with me, she eventually blossomed and grew, and, despite lots of set backs, gradually began to change her destructive behaviour.
After two years, she seemed to be well enough to move on, so I parted company with her. She found someone soon after and got married. But whether, like hypnotism, the help I gave was soon to wear off, I don't know. Years later, I can only assume that she is still well, still married, and drink-free. If everything that we went through was made into a film it would be a very, very long movie...
But my help to her took it's toll on me, and accounted for a further 2 years to recover from the abuse that goes with being the 'carer' of a drunk.
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THE FAMILY HOME
This photo shows my grandmother and her sister (in the wedding dress) in the back garden of our family home, in London. The fact that my mum is not in the picture means it must be 1930, or before. My mum and her sister, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother, all lived in the house. Four generations, over 80 years. It should now be my turn, but thanks to events in 2000, it has been decided to take away from me.
THE FAMILY HOME
This photo shows my grandmother and her sister (in the wedding dress) in the back garden of our family home, in London. The fact that my mum is not in the picture means it must be 1930, or before. My mum and her sister, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother, all lived in the house. Four generations, over 80 years. It should now be my turn, but thanks to events in 2000, it has been decided to take away from me.
What is a house? What is a home? Are the two identical?
Who decides what your life should be?
Should someone who doesn't know you, doesn't care about you, has no interest in your life or work dictate what you should do and think?
Should someone be allowed to take your future from you?
Who decides what your life should be?
Should someone who doesn't know you, doesn't care about you, has no interest in your life or work dictate what you should do and think?
Should someone be allowed to take your future from you?
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WHO VALUES THE PAST?
Does the past matter? Shouldn't it all just be wiped away? What is its value in the present and the future?
If it is wrong to be attached to the past, and to your long lost family members, then what else is wrong?
Antiques shouldn't exist for a start. Everyone who has ever watched the Antiques Roadshow must be wrong. So why bother with art galleries, or museums, or stately homes, or castles, or even palaces. Aren't they all just living in the past?
What about films, television, music and books? The Wizard of Oz, Star Wars, The Sound of Music, Dad's Army, Fawlty Towers, Morecambe and Wise, The Two Ronnies, Abba, Elvis, The Beatles, Pride and Prejudice, Romeo and Juliet, Oliver Twist. All old hat, surely? What has Dickens contributed to the world recently? It's in the past, get over it.
Or could it be that all of these things and more, are beyond measure in our daily lives? Would we miss them if they were wiped away to order? What do you think...? They are in our lives because we love them. They give us strength on our journey forwards.
The past is all we ever really have. It is our foundation, our DNA, our stepping stones that guide us into the future. Without it we don't exist now. The past made us.
Can you live without any of your past things? Will it greatly improve your life and future if you jettison everything that your family lived and worked hard for, to provide you with a life?
Maybe the past matters more than a balance sheet. The council, though, have decided that my past has no value. They have chosen to wipe away my entire connection to my family home, going back 80 years, and 4 generations.
They have sided with the crooks who made me ill for years, and not with me. So, are they right to do this...?
WHO VALUES THE PAST?
Does the past matter? Shouldn't it all just be wiped away? What is its value in the present and the future?
If it is wrong to be attached to the past, and to your long lost family members, then what else is wrong?
Antiques shouldn't exist for a start. Everyone who has ever watched the Antiques Roadshow must be wrong. So why bother with art galleries, or museums, or stately homes, or castles, or even palaces. Aren't they all just living in the past?
What about films, television, music and books? The Wizard of Oz, Star Wars, The Sound of Music, Dad's Army, Fawlty Towers, Morecambe and Wise, The Two Ronnies, Abba, Elvis, The Beatles, Pride and Prejudice, Romeo and Juliet, Oliver Twist. All old hat, surely? What has Dickens contributed to the world recently? It's in the past, get over it.
Or could it be that all of these things and more, are beyond measure in our daily lives? Would we miss them if they were wiped away to order? What do you think...? They are in our lives because we love them. They give us strength on our journey forwards.
The past is all we ever really have. It is our foundation, our DNA, our stepping stones that guide us into the future. Without it we don't exist now. The past made us.
Can you live without any of your past things? Will it greatly improve your life and future if you jettison everything that your family lived and worked hard for, to provide you with a life?
Maybe the past matters more than a balance sheet. The council, though, have decided that my past has no value. They have chosen to wipe away my entire connection to my family home, going back 80 years, and 4 generations.
They have sided with the crooks who made me ill for years, and not with me. So, are they right to do this...?
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TIME IS RELATIVE
The clock stops, but the world carries on...
How long is long enough? That depends entirely on the person and the situation involved.
There is a fish and chip shop in Wimbledon, or rather, there was. It is now in darkness.
In the window of Broadway Place, in Hartfield Road, is a photo of the father of the family run business. He died, and the lights went out, the tables were pushed back, and the always busy and always crowded restaurant is now a memorial to him.
For a long time, a candle illuminated his picture, day and night. It was a beautiful tribute to him, and not something I can recall ever seeing before, in a shop. When loss happens, you do what feels right in your heart. It is not for someone else to tell you what to do, or to tell you how to feel. That emotion is only felt and understood by those affected by the event that has taken place.
TIME IS RELATIVE
The clock stops, but the world carries on...
How long is long enough? That depends entirely on the person and the situation involved.
There is a fish and chip shop in Wimbledon, or rather, there was. It is now in darkness.
In the window of Broadway Place, in Hartfield Road, is a photo of the father of the family run business. He died, and the lights went out, the tables were pushed back, and the always busy and always crowded restaurant is now a memorial to him.
For a long time, a candle illuminated his picture, day and night. It was a beautiful tribute to him, and not something I can recall ever seeing before, in a shop. When loss happens, you do what feels right in your heart. It is not for someone else to tell you what to do, or to tell you how to feel. That emotion is only felt and understood by those affected by the event that has taken place.
It is also not for anyone else to tell you, or command you, how long you have to get over it, or to rush you, like there's a kind of finishing post for loss or grief. It is not a game, or a race. It will take as long as it takes. It is no one else's business. It is entirely a private and personal matter. It does not run to a timetable that suits others' plans.
In my case, the greatest abuse I have suffered with for years, is the still (for me) unbelievable thought that the last days of my wonderful mum's life on this planet were deliberately scarred by me being cheated. It is the one thing that has still gone without any atom of justice, and it has now led to this final insult of taking my family home, by blaming me for his actions that wiped out many aspects of my life, in 2000, and thereafter. If that single event in August, hadn't happened, my life would now be very different. I would not have gone through much of what I have revealed here. Yet I am still being blamed for taking so long to get myself back in the world that I was pushed out of 13 years ago...
Can you remember what you did 3 days ago? Or 3 weeks? Or 3 years? Most of our lives are regularly wiped from our minds, like chalk from a blackboard, as it's just mundane day to day stuff.
But then there are those events, minor or major, that become part of our life, and life-story. Benchmarks, milestones, or crises, that drastically alter not just that day, but the life of those it involves. And when it is unresolved and very wrong to have ever happened in the first place, to ultimately end up suffering even greater losses for someone else's pleasure, is not something that is wiped from the mind in five minutes. It may take years, decades, or quite possibly a lifetime.
If it could have been done in months, or even a few years, then it would have been achieved by now. Such ignorance in those who have not understood that, only reflects on those people and their lack of knowledge of the entire situation.
In my case, the greatest abuse I have suffered with for years, is the still (for me) unbelievable thought that the last days of my wonderful mum's life on this planet were deliberately scarred by me being cheated. It is the one thing that has still gone without any atom of justice, and it has now led to this final insult of taking my family home, by blaming me for his actions that wiped out many aspects of my life, in 2000, and thereafter. If that single event in August, hadn't happened, my life would now be very different. I would not have gone through much of what I have revealed here. Yet I am still being blamed for taking so long to get myself back in the world that I was pushed out of 13 years ago...
Can you remember what you did 3 days ago? Or 3 weeks? Or 3 years? Most of our lives are regularly wiped from our minds, like chalk from a blackboard, as it's just mundane day to day stuff.
But then there are those events, minor or major, that become part of our life, and life-story. Benchmarks, milestones, or crises, that drastically alter not just that day, but the life of those it involves. And when it is unresolved and very wrong to have ever happened in the first place, to ultimately end up suffering even greater losses for someone else's pleasure, is not something that is wiped from the mind in five minutes. It may take years, decades, or quite possibly a lifetime.
If it could have been done in months, or even a few years, then it would have been achieved by now. Such ignorance in those who have not understood that, only reflects on those people and their lack of knowledge of the entire situation.
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CIRCUMSTANCES ALTER CASES
The council have never properly listened to me, and certainly not understood what I've been through since, 2000. They have suffered with selective deafness.
At one meeting I went to with them, they refused to even look at some of my life's work. Twice I asked and offered it to them in person to look at, and twice they refused.
I'd taken along an item I'd made, and a book of my photos of my work, spanning 20 years. But they remained in the bag, untouched. I didn't have a website then, so no presence in the world, and even the one I have now has barely been born. It is only 10 months old. Had I still been part of the world, after my mum died, the website would probably be 10 years old by now, and well known, in those circles.
Instead, they didn't know my past work, and doubted my future ability to do and make things, so I was not listened to, just attacked for my slowness to do anything. And when people stop listening, you stop talking.
If you remember The Magic Roundabout, I used to be Dougal the dog, full of movement and enthusiasm. But I've now become Brian the snail. Behind. Sometimes I'm in my shell, and tired with it all, but otherwise my moving ahead is at a greatly reduced rate of progress. After all, the more the weight of the baggage the slower the movement forwards. It's how I cope with all that's happened. But slow isn't motionless, just greatly decreased. If anyone wants to swap places and see how they'd do, you're welcome to try.
Add on to the 'deaf ears' that I've faced from various people, the fact that I was also harassed by a man regarding my family home, and it's yet another weight to carry. This utterly insincere man (Glen) harassed and harassed me, with letter after letter claiming to want to 'help' me. He sent me stories, poems, and gently disguised threats of where I was heading without his intervention. At least 12 letters, and drawings were posted to me, telling me he was in touch with the council asking them things, and being given information by them. He even followed me around on his bicycle trying to engage me in talking to him and trying to befriend me, but for his own ends. Being constantly ignored by me did nothing to stop him, he just kept on and on.
It seems my not being listened to is a common thread, over the past 13 years. All these incidents add to the weight you're forced to carry around that you didn't create in the first place.
Had the council properly listened then they wouldn't have sided with the greedy crooks, and against me. Those who already have a lot always seem to end up with even more.
CIRCUMSTANCES ALTER CASES
The council have never properly listened to me, and certainly not understood what I've been through since, 2000. They have suffered with selective deafness.
At one meeting I went to with them, they refused to even look at some of my life's work. Twice I asked and offered it to them in person to look at, and twice they refused.
I'd taken along an item I'd made, and a book of my photos of my work, spanning 20 years. But they remained in the bag, untouched. I didn't have a website then, so no presence in the world, and even the one I have now has barely been born. It is only 10 months old. Had I still been part of the world, after my mum died, the website would probably be 10 years old by now, and well known, in those circles.
Instead, they didn't know my past work, and doubted my future ability to do and make things, so I was not listened to, just attacked for my slowness to do anything. And when people stop listening, you stop talking.
If you remember The Magic Roundabout, I used to be Dougal the dog, full of movement and enthusiasm. But I've now become Brian the snail. Behind. Sometimes I'm in my shell, and tired with it all, but otherwise my moving ahead is at a greatly reduced rate of progress. After all, the more the weight of the baggage the slower the movement forwards. It's how I cope with all that's happened. But slow isn't motionless, just greatly decreased. If anyone wants to swap places and see how they'd do, you're welcome to try.
Add on to the 'deaf ears' that I've faced from various people, the fact that I was also harassed by a man regarding my family home, and it's yet another weight to carry. This utterly insincere man (Glen) harassed and harassed me, with letter after letter claiming to want to 'help' me. He sent me stories, poems, and gently disguised threats of where I was heading without his intervention. At least 12 letters, and drawings were posted to me, telling me he was in touch with the council asking them things, and being given information by them. He even followed me around on his bicycle trying to engage me in talking to him and trying to befriend me, but for his own ends. Being constantly ignored by me did nothing to stop him, he just kept on and on.
It seems my not being listened to is a common thread, over the past 13 years. All these incidents add to the weight you're forced to carry around that you didn't create in the first place.
Had the council properly listened then they wouldn't have sided with the greedy crooks, and against me. Those who already have a lot always seem to end up with even more.
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FROM EXTERMINATE TO EXTERMINATED
So, what's happened since 2000? In your world probably quite a lot. In mine a great many detours, false directions, and a huge amount of ill health.
It was not until 2011, that I was well enough to do my first bit of sculpting again. I can draw again, and make models, and enjoy working out measurements of long destroyed Doctor Who monsters ( the ones it seems people still haven't made). But at what cost has all this happened?
I've lost my mum, my family, my health, and very shortly my home and its entire 80 year history. I don't have the Dalek I worked so very hard for, at the worst possible time of my life (for 13 years I should have owned it), and I will soon be heading for another period of mourning that should never have existed in the first place. I can't see my health heading anyway good, so all those years of slow self healing will be for nothing.
The lesson to be learned from all this? I've absolutely no idea.
After 13 years of events, I'm exhausted by the sheer utter unfairness of it all. I'll leave you all to supply me with the answer, please....
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FROM EXTERMINATE TO EXTERMINATED
So, what's happened since 2000? In your world probably quite a lot. In mine a great many detours, false directions, and a huge amount of ill health.
It was not until 2011, that I was well enough to do my first bit of sculpting again. I can draw again, and make models, and enjoy working out measurements of long destroyed Doctor Who monsters ( the ones it seems people still haven't made). But at what cost has all this happened?
I've lost my mum, my family, my health, and very shortly my home and its entire 80 year history. I don't have the Dalek I worked so very hard for, at the worst possible time of my life (for 13 years I should have owned it), and I will soon be heading for another period of mourning that should never have existed in the first place. I can't see my health heading anyway good, so all those years of slow self healing will be for nothing.
The lesson to be learned from all this? I've absolutely no idea.
After 13 years of events, I'm exhausted by the sheer utter unfairness of it all. I'll leave you all to supply me with the answer, please....
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The Human Pincushion
"It doesn't have to be the end of the world, to be the end of your world."
-Ricky Gervais
Your support and comments are welcome.
-Ricky Gervais
Your support and comments are welcome.