Today we reached another milestone in our house. The last mandatory health visitor visit. Yes, my 3.5 year old, who started school 2 months ago, has just had his pre-school check. Ah, joined up thinking at its best.
 
There were the standard topics to be addressed around whether he was eating/sleeping/pooping OK. Is his speech on track? Does he have the cognitive skills they would expect to see? All important stuff so no qualms there.
 
A few of the tick boxes on the paperwork even related to me and my health and wellbeing. It always throws me when someone asks if I’m OK. I feel as though I have to stop and consider my current status for a moment. Then I panic that I’ve taken too long which will arouse suspicion!
 
Anyway… the health visitor moved on to a set of questions she prefaced with some kind of general intro like, “we have to ask everyone these ones”. The questions were:
 
Is your partner supportive?
Does he make you feel looked after/ well-treated?
Do you ever feel in danger because of your partner?
Have you ever been in a relationship where you were subjected to violence?
 
There were others but I can’t remember them all and those above have been paraphrased.
 
I pointed out that I was a little surprised to be at my umpteenth appointment, spanning three children and 14 years, and had never been asked anything remotely close. She advised she could only ask them as I was alone so perhaps my partner was present on previous occasions. Hmm. Guess that makes sense.
 
This evening I gave my husband the run-down. As expected, he’s fine. She knew when she met him 18 months ago that he had already hit his cognitive markers and could talk the hind legs off a donkey. I then asked him about the ‘abuse’ questions, continuing with examples when I found myself staring in to a blank expression.
 
Nope. The health visitor didn’t ask him. He was most certainly on his own. It was the same health visitor. But it would seem that it is not deemed necessary to ascertain if a man is in an abusive, violent, or dangerous relationship. It is not even considered relevant to ask if the mother is supportive.
 
I am afraid it does not take a PhD to see why, where, and how this is a very poor protocol.
 
Why can’t we – humankind – get this stuff right?

If you have ever been affected, please seek support  www.victimsupport.org.uk/help-and-support/get-help 
 
#healthvisitor #humanity #domesticabuse #men #women #equality
I would just like to point out that the health visitor was perfectly pleasant and professional. I would go so far as to say that, of all the health visitors I have invariably met once and then avoided, she is actually the kind of health professional I'd always hoped for. In no way am I criticising her, neither personally nor professionally.

You wouldn’t need to be in my company for very long to learn of my love for Paris. The City of Light. Her wonderful treasures. That sense of being somewhere special… But during my last visit in August, I got angry. Repeatedly. So much so that I was able to form a list of grievances.
 
1. People. Everywhere.
There are just so many people fannying about all over the place. They clutter the streets. They make the most beautiful spots look messy. The dawdle and faff. Trying to photograph anything of note is practically impossible unless you are happy to either have a billion messy humans in shot or don’t mind some ‘arty’ framing that cuts the buggers out!
 
2. Hilarious Photos
Not content to merely clog up Paris’ finest beauty spots, oh no, there’s more. Those people who, having ruined your photos by congregating in their throngs, choose to pose for that picture. The ones that make them look like, at best, like a total twat. You know the sort I mean… Holding Sacré Coeur on the palm of a hand. Dangling the Eiffel Tower by its tip. Twats. The lot of them. Take a picture of the thing you came to see. Take one of each other standing with the thing you came to see if you must meddle. But stop acting like 4 year olds. It’s like improving the Mona Lisa with a packet of fucking crayons!
 
3. Selfie sticks
It would seem that these are still a ‘thing’. There I was happily going about my daily life, safe in the knowledge that the selfie stick had had its day. Confined to the annals of history, along with loom bands and, shortly, fidget spinners (we hope!) But, no. Apparently they still have their domain – tourists. The worst kind of People (see 1.) Not only do they use them which makes them twats (see 2.) But they also lose any and all sense of spatial awareness or social etiquette. Just negotiating the steps at Montmartre involved a kind of Ministry of Silly Walks meets Limbo series of manoeuvres and two attempts at losing an eyeball. Stop. It.

4. Theft
Because that is what it is when you wander through Place du Tertre with your camera out, taking photographs of an artist’s work you utter cockwombles! How do folk not get this?! There are a few displaying signs requesting no photos be taken which you would hope was entirely unnecessary. Like a sign telling you not to stroke the lions. Nope. More people than I could count happily snapping away. You like it? Great. You wish you could feast your eyes upon it anytime you like? Great. So buy it. That’s kinda the deal. What you are doing is wandering around with a photocopier in a book store. A video camera in the cinema. It is theft. And it boils my blood.
 
5. Love without Locks
It is nigh on impossible to exaggerate the beauty that is Paris. Its buildings and their histories are awe-inspiring. The way the Seine eases its way through the diverse arrondissements. The 37 bridges which criss-cross the river with their own style and span. So what do tourists do? Fix padlocks to them all. Everywhere. Every single one. With no regard whatsoever for the eyesore they are creating, less the structural damage they are inflicting upon structures that have survived for centuries. To make matters worse, they aren’t even using pretty padlocks shaped like hearts and stars in pretty colours (to match the whole ethos that the lock will assure a long a pretty lovelife*). Oh no, they are buying any old industrial, run-of-the-mill, entirely utilitarian lock and whacking it on Pont Neuf’s carved stone street lights. FFS. #lovewithoutlocks Seriously people.
 
Paris, please just remember: It’s not you, it’s THEM.
 
*bollocks.
 
I’m off to recover from reliving the above nightmares by listening to a bit of Parisienne Walkways by Gary Moore. Feel free to join me…  Click here for YouTube link
 #paris #lovewithoutlocks #padlocks #selfiesticks #tourists #eiffeltower #pontneuf