I did not know what this meant, until recent months. i never thought of this saying as I did not know it to exist. However when I discovered it, without doubt it spoke to me in a place that I was not sure existed. This expression somehow expresses to me an idea, a light to be shone in the world, of what civilisation is, how it looks, what it means and more importantly that it is worth fighting for.

There is much oppression in the world, genocide and breaches of human rights. Yet this expression speaks of a freedom. Not the freedom to destroy and oppress, but the freedom from oppression. This for me means, living in a democracy, with equity and equality. When i first read this it was when looking for an inscription for my father and mother in laws gravestone. Because simply he stood for this without perhaps even realising the importance and bravery of his service to the country and the Jewish race during a genocide that is the largest in history. He may have been a ‘reluctant hero’ but those are the men and women throughout history that are to be honoured and remembered.

At this time it is clear that in the country in which I was born and raised, there are very real issues with men and women who maybe have forgotten what happened. Who assume that Fascism is always somewhere else. Yet no country is immune. It can happen anywhere. Democracy is fragile. It requires robustness in pursuit of the ideals and delvery to communities.

It is a true reality that it has a greater requirement for men to deliver this. When males have dominance as they do in the majority of countries, the equity and democracy is in their hands. This motto is for them to truely understand. It is fragile when the atrocities of war and slaughter seem to not apply to them. When they believe that is for some other land , not theirs. When cruelty, prejudice and violence go unchecked, where infomation and public service are replaced with propaganda and inequality. This environment can breed hatred and that is just a step away from fascism itself.

This is not the motto I have chosen for my hero’s stone. Yet it is one that sums up what his life meant, what he was brave enough to stand for and deliver. Now I know this motto, it is the one that stays with me.

One day at about eleven years of age I was bathing at home, my Mum was at her friends house nearby, my brother out with his friends. It was a sunny day, before the return to school, having just got back from visiting my Dad in Canada for the summer. Lazing in the bath the sunshine pouring in the window, I eventually got out of the bath reluctantly and wrapped myself in one of the huge oversize towels. My very long straw coloured hair dripping onto the towel and the floor. I padded to my bedroom and then i hear a knock at the front door. I huff as I am alone in the house. I wonder to the top of the staircase and see the front door has been left wide open by my brother. A man I do not know is stood in the porch by the open door. He is wearing a crisp white cotton shirt and smart trousers. His shock of wavy dark hair and equally dark neat beard, he looks about the same age as my Mum was at the time, thirties. He looked at me with huge brown eyes and I wondered if he was somebody important from the council or perhaps lost. I stood at the top of the stairs in my towel feeling a bit awkward. He said ‘ Is your mum home ?’ I replied she was at her friends. Before I could ask him why he was looking for my mum he said ‘Who on earth are you ?’ I say simply “ I’m Lisa, her daughter” he stares at me, he looks a bit shocked. He tells a me his name is Dave ( he doesn’t look like a Dave, he looks as though he should have an exotic international name ) I apologise for not being dressed and tell him he is welcome to wait in the lounge, whilst I get dressed and assure him I shall go find my Mum. I remember him smiling and taking a seat on the chesterfield.

This meeting with a stranger changed my families life. The stories of his treatment of my Mum, as a princess. Vicariously bringing a whole world that I did not know existed to life. I learnt how to use cutlery at exquisite tables, to eat Chinese food with chopsticks. I saw my Mum being treated so well, travelling the world and staying in money cannot buy places. This stranger, showed me what men are and can be. He did not speak very much. He was self assured and so respectful. He is to me the definition of what real men are. That meeting changed my life. Even when I reached the age of eighteen years, my mum had to marry as our home had to be sold. This man would call her regularly to see she was ok. This meeting with a stranger changed my life.

The decision to write, possibly the most significant decision I have made in my life. I suppose quite simply it is because it is mine, only mine. My voice. The words cannot be taken away, there is freedom that I have lacked for so long in my life. The first time I realised that I felt trapped in England, was when I left for the first time in over a decade. I was so nervous, I packed for months and stressed a lot about the trip. Yet although it was to visit family, the moment I stepped off of the flight, I had this desire to make it through passport control to freedom as quickly as possible. It sounds odd, but It was like a plug that had been pulled out and I was running so fast I left me friend standing, who was likely very confused. Yet I had felt like I was drowning in a suffocating swamp. My husband tried to keep our spirits up, yet we both dreamt of life away from England and the traumas and difficulties. The attacks the targeting, even whilst he was dying, the rapist rather than taking a step away from our famillies grief, turned up at the hospice and hospital. It was awful. He could not have known what would follow his death. He spoke of me meeting somebody for my safety and to not be afraid to do so. But in that horrific search, I was targeted relentlessly by friend or assosciates of the rapist. I did not appreciate the full extent to which the country would sink to keep me silenced. Gagging orders, threats of detainment and drugging, having to leave our home, then subsequently move twice, eventually taking the massive step to try and leave the country. The attacks the beating the harassment, the reasons no doubt he had wanted me to meet somebody for my safety. The fear the restriction on my life, all fell apart when i finally left England the first time. It was like being able to breathe. Then after more attacks, the decision to write, the decision to blog and study. This was a turning point, a dream, that gave me freedom to speak in a way I had not been able to for so long I can barely remember. It has been a turning point. As I proof read my first book, I realise that the decision is the biggest I have taken in my life. It is me, just me, not one else. Writing is a safe space of me and a keyboard, a blank page and truest freedom to speak… I have grown as a result, found my voice on the page. It is a gift that give me comfort in all the loss and traumas of the past…..

I often have something to eat away from home whilst in England. But my favourite place in England is without the Ivy. It is perfection. The tabel linen the great menus, the sevice, the elegant and slightly avantgarde decor is all perfect. It is place to pass time admiring the pictures on the wall, noticing something each visit that you missed on the last It is splendid. However it has the be ‘The Ivy’ in London tucked away in theatreland.

I had been in an intimate realationship almost every moment of my adult life. Then my husband passed away unexpectedly. He told me that it was ok to move forward. I was insistent at the time it was not going to be easy. I have been alone now for several years. Alone in the sense of no intimate partnership. This has meant that I have had to be self reliant and independant. It also left me unprotected from attack. Yet despite the intimidation and attacks, facing them alone and with a sense of purpose and in many ways bravery ( I say that with self deprecation ) I have in his precious memory stood up and given evidence that was exactly what he and my late fil would have wanted me to do. By having the time alone, I was able to really dig deep, find strength in their memory and fight (metaphorically) for what is right. I have learnt so many practical skills and gained in confidence. The techniques my husband taught me, passed on from his father ( special forces )have really stood me in good stead. Fixing leaks, changing tyres, evidence gathering and self care. I feel that these past few years they would both be intensly proud of me. I was recently followed and cut up by a vehicle. My defensive driving and then following the vehicle to identify the location it came from, was possibly the moment where I really felt particularly my fil giving me a gentle pat on the back! The vehicle was from the miltary base he had trained at, where my husband had also trained. The non miltary staff on the gate lied about who was driving the vehicle. I channelled my inner strength (thanks to both men ) and told them that real military men are not cowards that go about terrorising .women!! The look on the guards face was prcieless. You see, my husband, from his father had a very clear set of values about women. We can work on the same team, to our strengths, but on the same side, not ever targeting women. Thats for cowards!! Both quiet and unassuming men. Very practical, skilled to a high level in martial arts and my fil a diver and served in WW2 and Crimea. Not brash and arrogant, quietly confident. I never met my fil, however we share something in common. He after the war suffered from trauma. Not diagnosed, but obvious to those that knew him well. Needless to say, after the car incident, there were no more instances of cowardly military trying to frighten me to not given evidence. However, on the day I did so, it was those two men who were with me. My fil survived the war. I know that neither he nor my husband would approve of the use of torture and sexual violence by the state towards it citizens. My fil had men who died during the war, they did not do so in living memory, for the country to undertake actions that have no place in a democracy. I smile quietly often now. He saved many lives of POW. He was ordered to shot them ( a breach of the Geneva convention ) He refused to do so. When the ranking officer (from a different country )told him to do so, he again refused. The officer asked him under what authority was he not following an order. He removed his hand gun and pointed it at the officer. This saved the lives of POWs, having also saved the lives of many Jewish men women and children. Yet he had to be dishonourably discharged with many medals. Simply for using hs weapon in a way that was deemed unacceptable. However many times in life the right decision has great hardship. Bravery is doing the right thing regardless. In the times I was detained, interviewed, accused of crimes I had not committed to discredit my evidence about a number of males who have offended against women and children. When I was beaten by a member of the armed services to silence me. When I was refused medical assistance to place my life in peril. I thought of him. What he stood for, like the many brave men and women who stand for what is good and right. I do not think my husband wants me to be alone forever, but those years since he passed away, I know without a doubt that both brave men have been with me. It was a priviledge to be his wife and part of my fils family. The actions of the police and ex military personnel is a matter of shame to England. Those who defend such actions, defend serious breaches of international law, the Geneva convention and the principles that were fought for against the Fascism of the far left ( which is unmistakeable from the right !) When the time is right for me to meet somebody (that I can be sure that both would approve of ! ) then having this time alone has been a matter of strength for me…It was perhaps not a change I made. However the mindset required was. The attacks have left the scars. But a legal system that has stood up for what is right is a very important part of democracy. Lest I ever forget that it is worth fighting for !!!!…

These two activities could not be more different. Yoga, the exercise that I love to do alone. Its meditative qualities and stretchs that elongate the body and have really been the driving force in my maintaining a twelve stone weight loss some years ago. As I move between yoga poses, I am not sure that I am thinking at the time it is fun, yet after a session of yoga, I feel refreshed and happy. When I manage a particularly difficult pose, or push just a little harder for the stretch, I feel an achievement that is fun. Now sex ( its been a while more yoga has been done !) Is the activity and exercise that without a doubt burns more calories and encourages great hormonal balance and happiness. It should be fun ! Aside from a few awful car crash moments. Sex with the right person is the most fun and satisfying exercise. Until the man comes along, its yoga for me!

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man of fortune must be in want of a wife !… Is there another opening of a book that completely sums up patriarchal society and the ironic female lense through which Jane Austin wrote ? … I consider this the best book ever written, by a man or woman. The French Revolution was raging, yet unmentioned in her work. Perhaps because there was real fear the unrest might spread to the unchanged constitutional monarchy system of governance in England. More so that the carefully constructed system of landowners, marriage for wealth and dynasty was explored, along with the impact that this system had on women.

It was in direct contrast to the Brontes exploration of the gothic style of fantastical writing. Jane instead wrote Simply of a system that was unlikely to have had the outcome she chose for her heroine ! Yet there is something soothing and reassuring in about her writing. The comical wit, that is at times relentlessly judgemental of the situation of women in England. Perhaps there is no real empathy for her female characters. the depictions are in many ways harsh. Lady Catherine De Burgh, with her cruel and judgemental visit. The women in the household who deride and try to humiliate Elizabeth for her family background. All of these scenes, show us that Elizabeth very much saw the problem of England as both a female and male construct. That the female characters either acquiesced to the inequality or were active in maintaining it. Needless to say can we really see any difference now in society ? The people who live in poverty were still marginalised and blamed. Charity is still the mechanism that keeps them in the same situation.

Jane gives us this story that really explores the reasons as to why women lived with such real constraints. Where respectability, or the appearance of it, were deemed so very important. Yet she offers something of hope to her readers. This being that if men are able to overcome their pride and focus of money and prestige and tradition, whilst women overcome their prejudice towards men who demonstrate the propensity to change, then there is real hope for those relationships. That perhaps marriage that enables women to grow, both in intellect and status is positive. As opposed to the oft stated views in the book.

Stories offer us a real window to different times in history, unless they are entirely fantasy based, science fiction as such. Pride and Prejudice is the book that has always been my terms of reference for how society is doing for women. Is society clinging to the ideals of patriarchy ? Inequality ? Or is there real opportunity for change ? So this is obviously a fictional work, written by a female who was of a middle class background, with connections to the Church of England. So radical ? Yes in a way it is. The idea that a woman writes with a critical and amusing manner, charicaturing people in power, then finally showing how she views the change that can occur, that being men who stop interfering in friends choices, women who stop interfering in mens choices. In fact that men and women have autonomy and make decisions based on love. Or really is this the truth of her story ? I think her rather ironic writing really suggests that a woman is faced by the pursuit of a man with wealth is likely to feel love. I mean who wouldn’t ! This story reminds me of my favourite saying by the Rabbi we love those to whom we give. This story shows this very clearly. The main male character gives to Elizabeth and as he does so he grows to love her. Maybe this is a romanticised view of the world. But I do not think so. It is possible for this to happen. I have seen it in England. I think in a way that possibly did not happen in Janes time, happens in modern England.

The part of relational interaction that she did not explore, unlike other women, may have been outside of her sphere of knowledge. That being violence within the family. Particularly violence towards women. However aside from this reference and perhaps because of her view of relationships without violence, I fell in love with her writing and stories. This one, Pride and Prejudice my favourite book of all time.

For me a woman born and raised in Hampshire, the character I would most like to be from a book or film is the Elizabeth Bennet. A sharp wit, observational intelligence, well read and aware of society and the constraints it places upon women. But mostly because she shows the propensity to review her views of difference. The natural pre judgement of men and realisation that some can be trusted. They may be quiet, they may seem pompous, yet they sometimes are hiding a strong character and good values. This ability to change ones view, pragmatism is for me a quality that I admire.

She was called Fluff. She was the cat who lived at my Nans house when I was a small child. She was independent, outdoor cat. There was no litter tray required. She padded into the house as I sat at the breakfast table in my Jim’s jams, supping rice pops and milk, with a cup of warm milky tea. The kitchen was always warm. My nana always at the sink. She often. Made a cup of tea, had digestive biscuits in the tin. Fluff always wondered in, her long white haired coat with brown and black sledges, was soft to the touch. She would wonder under the table. Rub her long tail across my legs. Then pad quietly across the kitchen.

I would then be asking if I could feed fluff? The answer was invariably yes. It was a great routine. Pull the chair over to the sink, collecting the bowls and mats on the way. Running the hot water and using the cleaning brush set aside for fluff. Scrub the bowls and then rinse.

Once the cleaning was complete, then it was the opening of the tin. This required some supervision. Mainly was the tin lid was rather sharp. We had plastic lids that fitted over the tin once opened, as even fluff could not eat a whole tin at once. We had a special fork for putting the food in the bowl and mashing it to an easy to eat mush. Fluff would make a figure of eight between my legs as I prepared the food. Placed by the back door on her special feeding mat. With a saucer of milk. I then washed my hands and returned to my breakfast. It was always great fun!

Fluff was not the most sociable, however in the evenings, laid on the sofa, she would curl up on my lap as I scuffled her long hair. Her purring me watching Top of the Pops. You see she was the perfect pet. Very clean and tidy. Easy to feed and care for. Great company, totally safe around children. Quite simply cats rule!! …

A Job, the mutual exchange of labour for reward. Many years in England I worked tirelessly, wanting to achieve for myself and family, my organisation and in many respects communities. This contract although with my employers, was also part of a wider contract with the country. The provision of healthcare and education funded by my labours

. Then the sale of the country happened. Its listing as a company on companies house, made for a very real question. Sudddenly citizenship is being employed by the government. So in fact every aspect of life in England can be considered a fiscal arrangement. Therefore, this changed my view on what job I might do for free in the country.

This blog, a project for Uni was initially unpaid. The first time someone spoke to me about it, sharing their own realisation of past abuse, then others. Suddenly writing was not just a vanity project, it is a way of connecting and sharing about risks men present to society and women and children particularly. To save a life is a privilege beyond any other. To share and that help others to recover or identify trauma is also a huge privilege. One that is not about a financial reward.

Over the past three years preparing a file for the attacks and abuse I faced was unpaid, it felt like work. It was most certainly unpaid. When I made the journey to London a few weeks ago to present the file and give evidence for the first time in almost twenty years, I was not paid, it was not a job. However presenting evidence that clearly showed police officers who were prepared to go to extraordinary lengths to cover for the rapist felt like a duty. The more that evidence is heard and confirmed, the more likely change happens. The greatest change comes from inside.

In short, it was a duty. I have never been afraid to do my duty to my community, local national or world. Any financial compensation for the loss of my ability to work in England after the attacks, is not the primary purpose. It is however part of the recognition for the torture that I sustained. Some may say there is a fine line between a Job and a Duty. For me they are one and the same. Ordinarily there is pay, yet if there is any aspect that can save a life, make positive changes for safety in a community, that is something that there was into a requirement for me to be paid. Saving a life that is something I would do for free.