Bronson Battersby: A case of unneighbourly indifference

You live in a neighbourhood

Think about where you live and the people who live in proximity to you whether in passing or in full acknowledgement you know who they are.

Beyond those you can interact with in terms of communication, they might have children that you have noticed but are too young for your typical conversation, they might also have pets, a cat or a dog, but how would you know if you are not observant and probably curious?

Then, what constitutes your neighbourhood that you notice is out-of-place, unusual, or unexpected? A stranger you have never seen before prowling your street, a usually occupied house that seems deserted or new people have just moved in. Strange happenings that elicit that double-take and enough of that innate inquisitiveness just to assure yourself that things are the way they should be.

Beware of indifferent neighbours

That constitutes a sense of neighbourliness, a general awareness of your surroundings that is both for your safety and convenience as much as it is for your neighbours, an unwritten code of coexistence of everyone inadvertently watching out for everyone else.

What you cannot afford to be is self-centred indifferent that the inclination to be the brother’s keeper or the Good Samaritan is lost to not being bothered or concerned even when some gut feeling suggests you should exercise yourself to the stimuli of events that are not commonplace.

This is what hurts me most about the case of Bronson Battersby, a two-year-old toddler who was found beside his dead father having died of dehydration and starvation within earshot of at least someone for whom I cannot yet find the words to describe as they would be unprintable and still be an understatement. [ITV: Bronson Battersby: Neighbour 'pretty sure' she heard toddler crying days before death]

It just beggars belief

However, that is not the only failing, Bronson was under the care of social services but a lethargic lackadaisical attitude to his plight meant he was not discovered for another 7 days when a little more persistence and concern might have possibly discovered the child barely alive but with the prospect of survival.

Yet, it is the neighbour that attracts the greater wrath, in my view. The news story suggests this neighbour was ‘pretty sure’ she heard a toddler crying. Whether the quotes belong with the phrase is beside the point. If you heard a toddler crying and no doubt one in distress because there was no care for it, it had to have been for a prolonged period, perhaps a day or two, and not just in the daytime but in the nighttime too.

This indifference is evil

Nothing, it seems persuaded this neighbour to investigate and determine the source of this crying. She could not be bothered, it would soon stop, she must have thought, and it did eventually stop at the point where Bronson was totally exhausted, dehydrated, starved, weak, and unable to do anything more, he lay down beside his father who apparently had suffered a massive heart attack days before, and died.

In my heart of hearts, I pray we never have so totally indifferent people as neighbours because they are evil and lacking in any humanity. I have always made it a point of duty to be acquainted with my neighbours and to have at least one neighbour with whom I can share much more in neighbourliness, a set of keys, the occasional visit for tea or a meal and someone to just have general life conversations with. They matter.

Cultivate neighbourliness for your own safety

Neighbourliness is more than just living next door; it is knowing who is there and caring enough to check on them and know that they are okay. Especially as I live alone, the issue of neighbourliness is more acute, my neighbour would knock on my door if she has not seen me for days. When I had chest pains, the ambulance crew met me at my neighbour’s and from there I was taken to hospital, my neighbour sitting with me through the night in A&E for over 10 hours.

Elsewhere, when I was gravely ill in hospital, my neighbours attended to all issues and on returning home, did my shopping, some cooking, my laundry and every other thing I had no strength to do. When I was going away for weeks, my neighbour ensured my place was secure and looked after.

I have a relationship with my neighbour, you are brought together by circumstances you usually would not have predetermined, but you see the humanity in each other to build trust enough to know that you have their back as much as they have yours.

He need not have died

Bronson Battersby need not have died if he had good neighbours, he was crying and he was most definitely heard, it was his only means of communication, his desperate call for help, but he was ignored. However, I say, cultivate good neighbourliness and know that the people who live around you matter for both your safety and security.

Rest in peace, dear Bronson Battersby, you deserved better, much, much better.

I’m a child of silent wonder

I’m a child of silent wonder

I’m a child of silent wonder,
In the things I quietly ponder,
When I thought I was under,
I learnt of love more funder,
I serve a God of wonder.

I daily see the miraculous,
Putting aside every loss,
Not in how I fought to win,
But in the grace of him,
Who came for the great cause,
My weary soul to win.

The times I felt dejected,
When I was often rejected,
So many things were affected,
As if nothing was protected,
Good left me neglected.

Yet in the soil of my wailing prayers,
Dead seeds planted of failing affairs,
I cried lakes of sailing tears,
Almost fell to availing fears,
But I saw his prevailing cares.

Wait, I have a testimony of praise,
Not just of a passing phase,
From every slump he will raise,
Set your crazy life ablaze,
To sing of his goodness always.

Coronavirus streets in Manchester - LXXII

What I thought I saw

For once, I thought I was watching a circus act, an elephant on a bicycle riding on the pavement against road traffic until I noticed he had no trunk, just a truck of a backside to task a tape measure at the tailors.

Manchester as I went out shopping is in a kind of festive mode, as 2024 ushers in the bicentennial of the University of Manchester and Manchester Metropolitan University that both trace their origins to the Mechanics’ Institute founded in 1824.

Oxford Road is the artery that links these two universities bustling with crowds of students and all the services that cater to their needs. The banners are up and soon the bands and parties will set up to play.

Pandemic to pandemonium

The number of people still donning face masks would suggest the pandemic still rages, invisible as it might seem, I was chatting to someone on Sunday who had just recovered from a bout of COVID-19, we still need to be cautious and careful.

St Peter’s House used to be the chaplaincy to the broader university community that included the Royal Northern College of Music, though the food bank services remain in the building, the sadly poorly run organisation seems to have closed.

I was an observer of an employment dispute last year that to me showed that there were too many conflicting interests in the running of the place, the trustees were derelict in their scrutinising responsibilities, and it became evident that new engagements that sought to change how things were run met with both resistance and opposition.

It is a sad development and though a Catholic chaplaincy exists further up the road, I would hope this institution is revived with better hands and those with a heart to serve the community for which they exist.

The look and warmth of love

The Whitworth festooned within Whitworth Park is a place I last visited in January last year at the launching of an exhibition that was to run for the full year, I did think I would return to see the exhibition proper, but I never did.

Meanwhile, even in the freezing cold of winter, a few benches were occupied by couples at different stages of the expression of affection, the warmth of love cannot be assailed by the weather. You are left thinking of when you might find the beauty of that expression for yourself.

I rarely allow myself to just watch the heaving beautiful life of Manchester, even with the effects of the pandemic barely out of memory, we have a city that is thriving, lively, and changing at a rate that is, well, astounding.

Kola, before leaving the Golden Jubilee Boulevard

Stretching the material

It wasn’t that long ago that he drove his chariot unto the Golden Jubilee Boulevard and now he is about to leave to join the Diamond Jubilee Card holders club, the processing takes a year, so, we’ll start with filling in the forms along with documenting essential narratives.

I usually say to people there is exactly three weeks between our birthdays, mine is in December and his in January and we are the same age for that duration, though I have the benefit of asking of his experience that probably prepares me for admission into the year class.

It was sometime early in 1984 that I first met Kola, so, we are talking 40 years, for a while I would notice him, I remember vividly one afternoon that he was walking in front of me as we probably were leaving the campus canteen, he seemed to have a penchant for stretch jeans you could not unsee.

Amen or thereabouts

As I scour the recesses of my memory, it is quite likely after I had Christianly spiritual experience that I came into a group of young devotees of which Kola was a fervent and unassuming adherent. It has become an enduring friendship.

How do you write about a friend that sticks closer than a brother, a confidante with whom barely a secret exists, someone who knows you in demeanour, character, and temperament that what he doesn’t know about you, you probably do not know about yourself as well. Yet, his support of you is unstinting, constant, honest, frank, and unflinching.

It is one of love and affection that only an intimate partner might excel, then of a different kind too, that is borne of the tendency to overlook your failings, faults, frailties, and foul-ups. A friend that bat for you regardless of the brickbats, almost as if you can do no wrong, as we have the mutual respect of each other not to abuse the quality of amity and brotherhood we share.

We’re leaning opposites

However, I want to celebrate Kola, forthright in views and we frequently disagree on issues whilst giving each other the opportunity air our viewpoints. He would consider me quite conservative with liberal trimmings, I guess he is the opposite in interesting ways.

This world-travelled wiseman as he can be technologically naïve is nobody’s fool, anyone who misconstrues his silence for acquiescence or weakness would be in for a shock, he will make a stand and doggedly follow through on his principles, taking the hits if necessary and winning the goals eventually.

God bless you

And so, in the year before he leaves for the Golden Jubilee cohort, I and in fact, we, Brian and I wish him the very best of birthday, much joy, love, happiness, and success. That blessings come like a tsunami and overwhelm him in every way. That his dreams become the reality he could never have imagined, tremendously astounding with the kind of amazement and wonder of the miraculous.

A friend of 40 years is to be cherished, lauded, acknowledged, and esteemed. There are not enough words to express thankfulness and gratitude for sharing time, space, resource, conversation, kindness, hearts, minds, and fellowship.

Kola, you are one of a kind, I love you. Happy Birthday!

Related Blogs

Blog - Happy Birthday, Kola (January 2015)

Blog - A birthday greeting to a friend like no other (January 2011)

Little quirks for smirks

Smirking for coffee

I just spooned some demerara sugar into a highball glass which is essentially a typical drinking glass with a thick base, straight-up sides, and probably about 2.5 inches or about 8 centimetres tall. I smirked and sniggered at the quirky things I have done, as the sugar was meant for a coffee mug.

The kettle was just switched on, the routine of making instant coffee rather than tea that used to be my comfort beverage for the morning. As soon as I noticed, I took my big mug out of the sink, poured out the water, and tipped the sugar out of the glass into the mug before adding a teaspoonful of instant coffee. I stick to NESCAFÉ® Original Instant Coffee, whatever the cost.

Sometimes, I make filter coffee and for that, I would set up my milk frothing machine as it is never really right with ordinary milk or evaporated milk which is a holdover from my time in the Netherlands where they use coffee milk, a creamier full-fat milk for coffee.

Interestingly, some consider coffee a drug, I have heard a preacher boast about never tasting alcohol or coffee, maybe it is an abomination to others, but I do like the taste of coffee even as my mother has tried to prevail upon me to ditch both coffee and sugar. It doesn’t work for her; it works for me.

And this is funny

I have put it all down to quirks, nothing to concern myself too much about since I might have done many of these things before, and this is not a result of aging. Forgetting I already have my glasses on, I attempt to put on the spare only to realise I could not. Wearing an undervest back-to-front and that slight constriction at the neck is an alert to it.

The other day, I had a jumper on, then a jacket, but before donning my overcoat for the cold outdoors, I reached for another jacket and my arm went down a sleeve, it felt too tight. Very funny, I surmised inwardly. You do not need another jacket on.

I might say my name, but I do not call myself names for doing silly things. I guess what matters is being aware of things rather than forgetting and being observed by someone else like Brian who still ribs me no end about when I did the glasses skit. Living with your quirks is just one way of being able to make fun of yourself.

Anno Domini nostri Jesu Christi 2023-24

A course not corrected

I find it interesting that my blogging process has still not changed 20 years and a month since I started a blog. The last blog I wrote started on a different premise, I was thinking of writing about how the last year ended and the new began.

Then I guess rather than adopt a course correction based on original intent, I usually allow the organic flow to whatever reach and extent that blog veers to as I write. If this were a professional rather than a personal blog, I might need a bit more discipline by keeping my writing within the confines of the topic of my intent, yet the freeform has its uses.

It is like where would the mind take you to where imagination and imagery is given free rein, untrammelled by style, use, or expression? That is where Brian would suggest that some blogs I have written have sprung from just one word said in passing, the seed from which paragraphs and blogs become a harvest to publish.

Christmas and anniversaries

The highlight of Christmas Day was in the Sung Eucharist at Manchester Cathedral, which was televised and broadcast live, my seat inadvertently secured by the chief steward eventually gave me a bit of prominence at the gospel reading and at other times. To that, I can only say that since I have begun volunteering as a church steward, I have been more blessed in serving than I could have imagined. [BBC iPlayer: Christmas Morning Service from Manchester Cathedral]

It was quiet and reflective though made memorable by the insistence of my neighbours who persuaded me to join them for a late evening of festivities. Brian and I marked the 5^th anniversary of my relationship in the same week as I began to think of what I needed to do to usher in the New Year.

However, there was another Sunday to face where I was scheduled to give the first reading at church, the Sunday falling on New Year’s Eve. I was given a reading from the Book of Isaiah to review only to find out as I checked the lectern before the service that the reading had been changed to a New Testament reading from Paul’s Epistle to the Galatians. The passage was familiar enough, I only had to deal with the dread of hearing my voice amplified. Apparently, the cadence and my voice were good.

An elderly fellowship into 2024

Having received a text message from a charismatic church I attended in the summer; usually an evening service rather than the main one, they were having a New Year’s Eve service to see in the New Year and without priced tickets too.

I must have been the only guest in the congregation as everyone else seemed to know each other. I was welcomed by many and held in conversation with some who took more than a cursory interest. I was also acknowledged as an elder, I guess I have not helped my youthful cause by the use of a walking cane, though my facial features might belie some passage of time.

We had a diverse buffet before the praise, worship, and prayer session ushering in the year 2024. It was a blessing to find such a company of saints to fellowship with. 2024 has begun in earnest and before us is the opportunity to write new stories.

Thought Picnic: Believing better

Thoughts afloat

There are so many things that percolate in my mind about what I want to do ranging from fleeting thoughts, through surprising inspiration, earnest desire, daydreaming, and determination.

I have to content myself with the fact that the factory of the mind which actively conceptualises is not a production line of equivalent tangibles. Much is processed and necessarily delivered. You do wonder if the best use of mental energy is deployed at most times.

Hearing well

Listening is an activity I have devoted myself to more trenchantly, I listen more than I read, it is also easier to listen to something repeatedly because the use of language and the interpretation of context and intent is better reinforced when a turn of phrase pricks up your ears.

Then, maybe it is more than listening and it is hearing, just as observing is a lot more than seeing, as there is a perception within the senses that confers knowing and knowledge, and there is a deeper communication beyond the physical and mental to the spiritual that transcends the limitations of the senses.

Learning anew

It seems harder than it appears to be just as you are recognising that it is easier than you ever thought it was. It is the unlearning and programming that has become like muscle memory that is being challenged. To detach from the old and appreciate the magnanimous grace of the new, the insight that suggests what you always thought things were by way of traditions and practice are in truth what should have been jettisoned, if you knew better.

We all did not know better, we just continued with the tried and tested ways, thus missing out on the kind of revelation that upsets the orthodoxy to which every form and function is tied. I find myself questioning and assessing, wondering and wandering, seeking and searching, understanding and comprehending, that what I once believed is under review to believe better than to believe amiss.