Dredging up the sex crimes of the past: A personal tale.

While I have zero respect for the way in which Dr Ford has handled the situation regarding Brett Kavanaugh, there have been comments made about her ‘memory’ of the incident and the issue that she could not recall ‘all the facts’.

Clearly there would be no appearance at the hearing, no ‘civic duty performed’ in the very unlikely event that President Hillary Clinton decided to appoint Mr Kavanaugh.  The whole situation stinks of petty, party, politics.

But that is not the point of this post.

Here is a story that, until now has only been known to five or possibly seven people.

I was very young, still riding a tricycle, at the time. For the purposes of this story let’s assume I was five.  I got my Gold Card a year or two back so this incident happened over 60 years ago.

An older boy, the local headmaster’s son, lived ‘across the road’. (This is out in the country so ‘across the road’ is a little more widely defined.)  His family moved away from the district when I was seven.

As a near neighbour I am sure that there were plenty of interactions between him and me.  I cannot recall his name but remember his surname well. Let’s call him Alf. For obvious reasons his surname will not be printed here.

One day, while out with Alf, he took me into a well established Macrocarpa windbreak.  There was plenty of space under the trees to play and hide.  I could, to this day, quite easily take you back to the spot.

Whilst under the trees Alf wanted me to remove my trousers.  I have no idea why. Maybe he knew my parents were religious and assumed that I had been circumcised whereas he had not, and was curious?  I have absolutely no idea what was in his mind and I would not want to attribute thoughts or intents to him.

However, even as a five(?) year-old, I knew that this was not right so I bolted, got back on my trike and peddled furiously for home.

Now, my parents could corroborate this story – except that they are long gone.  I have no idea whether or not my parents spoke to Alf’s parents at the time.  If they did they would be persons six and seven that knew about the incident.  The others are: Alf, me, Mum, Dad and my wife.

The incident is one of the few vivid memories from my childhood. I do not know the day, time or even the year. But I do know it happened; although nothing of any consequence actually happened.

Does that make it any less real?  No.

Would I have blighted Alf’s life if he had, later, been a prominent figure? No, he was a kid.

Was it sexual assault? Then, probably not; now, definitely especially if I were female.

Am I scarred for life? I don’t believe so. Maybe a few sessions with a counsellor will reveal that, actually, I am?

I will leave you all to draw your own parallels with Dr Ford.

I think that the debate is important. I am not saying Dr Ford is right or wrong, just suggesting that we need to be careful making judgements in situations such as these.


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In solidarity with the those in the world’s most despised demographic, WH has decided to ‘come out’ as an old white male. WH enjoys exercising the white-male privilege that Whaleoil provides for him by writing the occasional post challenging climate change consensus; looking at random tech issues that tweak his interest, as a bit of a tech nerd; or generally poking the borax at anyone in public life who goes on record revealing their stupidity. WH never excelled on the sports field because his coaches never allowed him to play in his preferred position on the right-wing. WH also enjoys his MG.

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