About the author/s

Paul F Senior Paul D Waine. Date: 08/05/2018 Co-Author Paul Waine Is whom this factual true story is about, unbelievably considering his traumatic childhood won writing awards for his handwriting at school and had shown great promise in a number of sports including football, swimming, snooker table tennis. Unfortunately as you will discover when you read the book he did not have the opportunity to excel in any of these.

 

19390508_1536294156421266_472024325679583111_oCo-author Marie Kay. Date: 11/05/2018  has written stories and poetry since she was a child and once won a poetry competition and had her work published, many years ago. However has not perused publication until Little boy Wonder. She finds Mr Waine to be a truly inspirational character and a great hope for other victims of these horrendous crimes and the mental health consequences suffered as a direct result. She is a mum of 6 children and herself very creative and has a passion for arts and crafts. She has degrees in phycology and Mental health. and is already working on her next book. 

About Paul continued.

I was born in Nottingham 1963, my Father was a window cleaner and a rag and bone man, and my Mother worked as an usherette at the Adelphi cinema in Nottingham town centre. My earliest memories take me back to 1969 aged 6/7 years old, where we lived at number 1 Hyde terrace, Carlton Nottingham, and where my harrowing true story begins, my traumatising childhood unfolds.

ihydeterracenottsI remember this house well, I used play in puddles just to the side of the Mini clubman in the picture above, and it’s where I recall jubilation on discovering how to tie my shoe laces correctly for the first time, Yippee! I was chuffed with my self, it’s a petty Mother and my twat of a old Man didn’t see it that way also, they wasn’t amused at all.

Mother was always an emotional wreck crying all the time from what I recall during this period, and that warped, and narcissistic, heartless, evil man for a Father was all I needed, I often witnessed him bullying and hitting her, just like me, I was his little punch bag and joey.

Mother’s Dad also lived in the same terrace as us, just opposite on the other side. Granddad was a sound bloke, he cared and took me out many a time to the Nottingham castle, but there were something very wrong between him and the old man because they argued a lot and came to blows a few times, I recall 1 occasion Mother breaking them up from fighting, it scared the crap out of me.

This was a scary address to live in too, we often got eggs thrown at our windows and doors from angry people outside, and I witnessed lots of public abuse aimed at my old man for reasons I know of now, but then I was clueless. Any-way, Granddad took ill and came over to sleep on the settee so Mother could keep an eye on him, but sadly he passed away in late 1969, one of his dying wishes was for my Mother to leave that scum bag twat for a father. I was devastated, I felt like I’d lost the only person in my life who actually cared about me properly, I loved him so much for all the little things he did with and for me, bless his soul.

A while after the funeral we had moved out of 1 Hyde terrace to move up the road to a house with a café at the bottom called the Top Hat, it’s where he and Mother worked the café and It’s where the old man got a kicking in the street just outside the café by a gang of women, I was petrified and didn’t understand what was going off. I recall be given more freedom to roam the streets at this address, I got up to the usual mischief a 7/8 year olds get up to.

I used to hang about Carlton road park with some other boy my age, I recall one day going to the park together and as we reached the edge of the road to cross I suddenly just pushed him into the road to get run over, fortunately for me all he got was a little clip, something terribly wrong for me to do that. Father suddenly went off the scene just out the blue which gave Mother the perfect get-away and that’s exactly what we did. We packed up and moved to another address where he couldn’t find us.

Fast forward a wee bit to a relatively settled period living alone with Mother and baby brother in a new bedsit just off Mansfield road, number 40 Elm avenue. Mother took my granddads advice and left the old man when he suddenly went off the scene for reasons I had no idea of until today. This was a happy period for me, I was free of that twat of an excuse for a Father.

I Remember Racing out of school at home times to go and get my push along scooter and then bomb it down Huntingham street to the old Bingo house where Mother would be playing bingo, I used to race down there most days after school, I’d be 8/9 years old, it used to give me a right buzz.

Bingo hall just off Huntingham street , town centre at the back of Victoria Centre early 1970’s
Bingo hall

Things were reasonably ok for me while it was just me, baby brother and Mother, I had more freedom and I was free of the old mans violence and mental abuse, I was happy in my school I had friends that I remember playing out with after school. But I wasn’t completely out the woods thou. After two years or so I’d be 9/10 years old, up to this point I was settled in school, I had plenty of friends, we went to Skegness for an holiday and we didn’t have to put up with the old mans abuse, so I was happy as a child could be.

But In a horrendous twist of fate my father is released from prison unbeknown to me, after serving 2 years out of a 3 year sentence for despicable crimes against young Children. He then goes to court to fight for sole custody of me, my Mother agrees to this and does not attend court in protest, huh; The Judge rules that my Father is to have sole custody of me under Nottingham city Council, now better known as Nottingham county council, social services supervision, if only that fucking judge had requested reports on my fathers past credentials and ability to care for a 10 year old child full time.

All I had suffered and witnessed already was nothing compared to what laid ahead of me as my story journeys through total devastation and trauma beyond belief of life living with my father and an absent Mother.

I was torn away from my Mother and baby brother by the Nottingham social Services, I kicked up a massive fight, I couldn’t understand why I had to go with them, more importantly how could any Mother let her little boy go and live with a man who’d just been released from Prison for despicable crimes against young children? She and Granddad obviously knew of his sordid past.

This was the last time I was to see my Mother and baby brother for a long time, years even. My new address was 16 Delta street, new Basford Nottingham. A two bedroomed terrace house just off Egypt road. My new school was off Egypt road called Northgate infants. This is where I met my best friend Tony, we often used to get up to mischief together, getting into all kinds of trouble, but to be fare to my friend he was the sensible one, as for me I was already a damaged child.

Things went from bad to worse for me, Father introduced me to crime which led me to the Police, playing truant from school, running away from home to avoid beatings off the old man, and his mate Roy Redwood. He was someone who Father claims he met at the job centre, I’ve later found out that he was in an opposite cell to Derek the old man in Lincoln Prison on the 43’s, what doe’s that tell you?

I now know that My father and his buddy Roy Redwood conspired together about what was about to happen to me. Please read Little boy wonder for the whole true story, the desperate pleas & Cry’s for help to the Police, Social Services including the NSPCC. I know now of all this truth behind my case due to intensive research, and gaining possession of my Social Service’s care files, Medical records, Police records and reports to the NSPCC from neighbours who’d reported my Father for beating me in public, so, Social services were fully aware.

Any-way life went on regardless, the Police always returning me back to the old man despite me telling them I was afraid to go back home, I told them I don’t want to go back at the very least three times because of how he was treating me, he was never at home after school times until gone midnight many of times, all I could do when dark came was hide in the outside toilet where I cried many tears for my Mother, hungry, cold and thirsty, poor malnutrition, all I could do some times was flush the toilet and catch the water in my hands and drink it, as far as food was concerned all I could do was beg in the streets and hang about the fish and chip shop for scraps.

My story takes a compelling twist of fate as my Father eventually loses custody of me as I am deemed an unruly child due to the running away and absence from school. The judge then rules that I’m taken into authority care at the age of 11 years until my 18th birthday. A policeman states to me “you’re going to be alright now son” What a Load of cods wallop, they sent me to a children’s home called Beechwood where astonishingly I were further subjected to sexual abuse, and brutality at the hands of the staff in the children’s home.
beechwood-childrens-home-in-mapperley-nottingham-2054131

Beechwood children’s home Woodborough road, Nottingham which incidentally has been demolished now by Nottingham County Council in 2014/15 I believe. This children’s home as become one of the largest criminal inquiries in British history including every other children’s home they slapped me in, into CSA whilst in care of the local authorities. The whole operation is called Operation day break which I was part of in relation to my own true accounts of being in this hell hole. Use this link below to read more. Independent inquiry

You can also view the Nottinghamshire Police Operation day break and Xeres operation day break Into historical abuse at all levels.

From here I was shipped out to Skegby hall children’s home in Skegby Sutton-in-Ashfield, I learnt an awful lot being here, but I didn’t escape the bullies and the hostile staff.


skegbyhall2
About the book – Little boy wonder

Unfortunately for myself and Marie, we were unable to fund a vanity publisher and due to being first time author’s unable to secure a traditional publishing contract to go ahead with having Little boy wonder published to give a first hand account and insight into the largest criminal inquiry in British history whilst providing hope and inspiration for other victims and survivors. However, where’s there’s a will, there’s a way. And we are pleased to inform you that the book is now available to purchase at the introductory price of £6.99 paperback and kindle eBook for £2.21 or FREE on kindle unlimited. 

We blame it on the STIGMA attached to the whole nature of this true story. In our society there’s been to much see no evil, hear no evil and speak no evil, especially as I was growing up. The Stigma NEEDS! To end. for the sake of future generations to come, It’s our children of tomorrow  that need protecting NOW! STIGMA Stinks! A prime example of this is us marketing the book and having difficulty due to the stigma and taboo in our society.