Kintsukuroi

18.06.14 (Day 178)

08.42

Kintsukuroi. (n.) (v. Phr): To repair with gold. The art of repairing pottery with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken.

A lot to do today, especially given the events of yesterday and our visit from court-appointed bailiffs. Nice chaps as it happened, Mike and Tony. I was my usual amicable, slippery salesman, confidence trickster self and managed to charm the bailiffs as far as it’s possible to charm such people. I understand that they’re just doing a job and they were sympathetic to my cause. But they still had a job to do, which they did, as that’s what they were there to do: serve papers on me, including a Notice of Possession Hearing at County Court, Particulars of the claim for Possession and various other bits I’m going through. Ever the charmer, as the bailiffs were attaching notices to the outside of the property with hammer and nails (a legal requirement as protection from the elements), I went outside and asked them to keep the noise down as they may be disturbing the neighbours.

I have no problem with the property owner and sympathise with him, as he does me. My problem is as it’s always been: with the system. All I want is to be re-homed and preferably be able to provide ongoing help for the kids, especially my Courts, who came back to me last night.

For what it’s worth, I’m preparing a Defendant Statement for the court. Obviously I can’t go into too much detail but the grounds for repossession are identified in the paperwork as trespass and actual or threatened antisocial behaviour. I am the sole named defendant (along with “Persons Unknown” who will remain as such) on the claim forms, so it is me providing the defence, academic though that might be. It keeps me busy and at best may buy some time for the family and me.

Naturally I’ve sought legal advice and although I have neither the finances to pay the court attendance fee, nor the time to apply for legal aid, I believe I have the right to submit a written Defendant Statement, which should be given due consideration by the judge.

Regarding trespass, we entered a former commercial premises which was unsecured. Actual or threatened antisocial behaviour carries a burden of proof on the part of the Claimant. In my own defence, I reside at the rear of the building for the most part: the opposite end to that which the alleged offences have been committed.

And so it goes on but that’s between me and Them. They won this battle but the war with the system goes on.

Some people in my personal life have said that they can deal with this no longer: welcome to my world, where I have to deal with these things daily. Some of the same people disapprove of the blog: don’t read it then. I want people to know what’s going on. If the truth hurts, so be it.

15.42

I’ve arrived home to a toweriness (of kids): noisy as usual; all damaged goods. But some have benefitted from kintsukuroi and are more beautiful for being the broken kids that they are.

Although it’s me alone that fights for this place, I do so for myself and my kids: my friends and family.

19.42

I’ve spent most of the day picking apart the legal forms served upon us and am confident that I have discovered holes. I’m due legal advice tomorrow and the sole Defendant Statement is almost done.

Just the resident family (those who live here) are present as I write: myself, The Dog, my Courts, The Jackal and Mutley. We came into a modest sum of money today, so the plan is to have a family pizza on what could be one of our few remaining nights at home.

I needed to visit the other end of town today and went into a church other than my usual one as they had an open morning. Tea, coffee and snacks were on offer, as well as board games: Scrabble, draughts and chess. No poker table alas but I rinsed a couple of people at chess. There was also a clothes sale, where all items were available for the outrageous sum of 50p each. I bought a hoodie for The Courts because she’s worth it (50p).

I’m not too attached but I’m attached enough to my Courts. She’s broken, fragile but like fine pottery with the application of kintsukuroi. My little rebel after my own heart; a barely controllable live wire; my baby girl; my daughter. Her real dad would be proud. As am I.

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