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A talk at Anglia Ruskin University, Cambridge - 29th June 2018



I must say, I had an absolutely fab day on 29th June at Anglia Ruskin university, Cambridge ,with my chat to social work students and lecturers alongside Angela Hunt and Alison Kindred-Bryne from To The Moon and Back foster care.

With only being my second event talk I was a little nervous to know I'd be sharing my story to 33 social work students and lecturers, but it turned out to be a rather lovely evening.
Although we had a few giggles during the hour and half long talk (followed by a Q&A) it was nice to hear some feedback from social work students and social workers that believed I had a valuable message to send out.



One social worker even came up to me and told me that I'd made her realise about decisions she had been involved with that perhaps she hadn't realised had made such an impact on the young persons life.

Big massive hats off to Alison and Angela for this, I'm so chuffed to have worked alongside them in an event which I presume must have taken a fair bit of tinkering away.
It's fantastic that a new foster care company has taken so much initiative to not only hold a close ear to the echos of care-leavers, but also work hard to enable that message to be passed on to the next generations of social workers.
I'm actually quite humbled.

You can find out more about To The Moon and Back Foster Care at the following link -

https://tothemoonandbackfostering.com/



Have a great day.
Ben Westwood ;)

Part 53 of 60 - Busted




BUSTED


It’s late at night and I’m on Piccadilly, and not many folk are around.
I lay down and rest my head, on my bag that’s on the ground.

Two lads step out of a black cab, look drunk like most this late.
I thought that it’s worth asking, “Spare any change please, mate?”

“We’ve got no money”, one lad said “But come join us for a drink.”
Their vibe seemed sound, and so I said “Okay, I will I think.”

As we walked down towards Hyde Park, I’d took with me my bag.
They said that they’re band was gonna be famous, I thought it was a blag.

Just drunken talk, was my first thought, because people do talk shit.
But when I got to their hotel, it seemed to click a bit.


Their guitars were in the room, in the Intercontinental,
At least I know they’re speaking truth, and not just simply mental.

We had a jam and drank some beer, and I slept on the bed,
Of one band member who was not there, but somewhere else instead.

In the morning they said to me, “Well you’ve tuned a guitar up before,
Here’s our number, give us a call, and come and join us on a tour.”

You’ll be our roadie, we’ll make sure you’re sorted, for now we have to go skoot.”
So I left the hotel, feeling all good and well, and they went for their video shoot.


A few days later I went to call, to speak with them again,
The piece of paper had gone soggy, because of the wet rain.

I tried to guess the numbers, was it a five or an eight or a three?
But didn’t get through to a number at all, perhaps it’s just not meant to be.

I’d almost forgotten about James and Matt, until one day I then see,
Two years later when visiting dad’s, in the room watching TV.

I laughed and I pointed right at the screen, as they then played out their show.
I said “I’ve met those lads, when I was down London, and they’re proper sound lads ya know.”



You can purchase Poems From a Runaway for under £15 on Amazon
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1981314350

You can also get signed colour higher-quality paperbacks from £25 at
http://benwestwooduk.blogspot.com/p/poems-from-runaway.html

Hardbacks available on written request.
benwestwooduk (at) gmail.com

A trip to Brussels to discuss the issue of runaway children (6th June)

So as some of you know, I went to Brussels the other day to take part in a conference about runaway children in Europe at European Parliament.
It was actually my first time ever abroad and I still hadn't got my first passport when I'd been invited to attend the conference by Missing Children Europe, so I'd like to say a massive massive thanks to everyone that's helped me get all this together in time.

(Especially to Vi Wood from Leslie's Care Packages for the homeless, Lee Brickley and Kay Davis, The Cannock Chase Green Party among others that have helped me not only get my passport but have helped with my accommodation and other costs that I had really needed help with.

And what a beautiful day it was on the day of the conference, absolutely gorgeous weather which was great for the publicity stunt in Place Du Luxembourg (Luxembourg Square) where I met up with Federica, Gail, Laurie, Liuska and others from Missing Children Europe  as well as photographer Kris Van De Sande whilst they were setting up the publicity stunt to promote the runaway helpline number - 116000

A lot of people won't know this, but if you are a runaway, a parent or have any concerns about relating issues, then you can call 116000 from anywhere in Europe and you will get through to the runaway helpline local to your country.
It's a really great initiative I reckon, and could have seen myself using it 'back in the day' if it had been around then.
(Continued below photographs)




 
(Photo by Kris Van de Sande)
The number runaways can call throughout Europe 
for help and advice. 116000

Julie Ward MEP was also at the conference
to discuss how we can help runaways.

(Photo by Kris Van de Sande)
Margaret Tuite the European Commission
coordinator for children's rights  was also
at the conference with the Missing Children Europe
team and myself. 


I'm really humbled to have been invited to the conference and read some of my poetry from the book. but also to be around an air of such caring people. 
It's fair to say that the issue of runaway children is often overlooked, despite most of us knowing a story or two about runaway children from people we know. 

Julie Ward welcomed us all to the conference before Liuska Sanna From Missing Children Europe educated us all on the current statistics of runaway children, and the fact that there's been an 11% decrease in the number of children found (compared to the year before) but worryingly also at the same time there's been a 44% increase in children running away three times or more.

I have to give a massive hats-off to Margaret Tuite for the stuff I was hearing her say during the conference. Her message really hit a chord or two with me.
Without me giving a word-by-word transcript of the event, in a nutshell she was making some very valid points of how runaway children can be seen as a problem for others to deal with, instead of us looking at the bigger picture to find out why exactly children are so often running away.
Hopefully my book 'Poems From a Runaway' too sheds a little light on that through the eyes of a child.

'It's the system that needs fixing. Not the children.'

It's quite a statement to be fair, and one that may take a few minutes of reflection to at least think about how decisions, relationships and environments created by adults can have such an impact on the mental wellbeing of a young person.

I also  talked about my childhood and read out my poem 'Great Haywood', which is about the first time I ran away overnight at around 10 years old and slept in a ditch in the village of Great Haywood, Staffordshire. 
(Continues below photographs) 

Julie Ward opens up the conference to explain
why we need to come together to help and 
understand runaway children.

Me reading my poem 'Great Haywood' 
to the attendees of the conference.

You can watch/listen to the poem read at the 
conference by clicking here


Also present was Emilio Puccio from the European Parliamentary Intergroup for Children's Rights Ruth Farrugia, the director general of The President's Foundation for the Wellbeing of Society based in Malta. Carlos Coelho the Portuguese MEP,  and Charlotte Verhofstadt from the office of German MEP Hilde Vautmans .
Other speakers included Maria João and Paula Paco from Instituto de Apoio à Criança in Portugal and Janina Dienaite from The Missing Persons' Families Support Centre in Lithuania.
Also a very hard-hitting and memorable speech by Maryana Lypovetska from Missing Children in Ukraine.


For those unaware or needing a reminder, there has been war in the Ukraine over the last few years which in turn leads to all sorts of manifestations in society. One of them being runaway children.
Since the start of the unrest in Ukraine there has been a rise in missing runaway children, in fact the number of missing children in the Ukraine has risen from at least 4573 in 2015 to at least 9125 in 2017.

It certainly made me think that as an English lad that's never had to live during or flee from war, how lucky indeed I really am, but also at the time realising that perhaps it's a good thing for other people around the world to know what young Ukrainians have been going through. 


Marina Lypovetska explaining the rise of 
Ukrainian missing children.


Carlos Coelho addressing some shocking facts
and explaining how we need to do our best
to help locate and help runaway children.


Overall, a fantastic experience meeting some really wonderful people and I'm honoured to have been invited there to share my story. 
A massive thanks to Julie Ward for giving me the tour of of the European Parliament and letting me sit in on one of her talks to a class of students. 

It's safe to say I've come back to the UK very inspired by everyone that I met that day.
I thought I'd be burnt out after it all but now I want to do my part to help runaways more than ever.
An absolutely cracking day and thanks to everyone for helping me along during my times of struggle, it's been a really positive experience.


I may sound a little ditzy here but I hadn'r realised when the press conference was being filmed, even when I was doing my poem. 
I'll keep my mouth shut next time when a European member of parliament reads our the meetings closing statement intead of blurting out "respect" at the end. Sorry about that everyone, please forgive my inexperience!

Anyway thanks for reading and thanks to everyone involved in all ways.

Big Love.










Part 14 of 60 - Toby Sycamore





TOBY SYCAMORE

Again I’m in London, and I’m back on the run,
And because I was grassed up before,
I need to stay undetected, so that nobody finds me,
I’m going to have to try more.

No-one can know that my real is Ben, 
and that I’ve ran away from care,
Folk will be asking for me around Whitechapel,
 So it’s best they think I’ve not been there.

So I speak a fake accent, a pretend East End cockney, 
from the moment I wake up, until night.
For the whole next four months, with everyone that I meet, 
just so I know that I’m alright.

Or else they might find me, when Old Bill ask questions, 
someone might say, “I know him”.
So if everyone thinks that I’m from round here,
the chances I’m caught are quite slim.


One day plain-clothes police pulled me outside Victoria station, 
asking people outside for spare change.
They were gonna release me, but decided they couldn’t, 
as I was young and my story seemed strange.

The address that I gave, just didn’t exist, 
which I’d said in my fake cockney voice.
And two-and-half hours later, they still wouldn’t release me, 
I knew I did not have a choice.

“Hands up I’ve been caught, I’m not really from here”,
I said like I spoke when back home.
I thought they’d go mad, but in the end I was glad, that
it all ended in humourful tone.

“You did have us fooled, we thought you were local,
it was just the address that you gave,
Which had made us suspicious, or else we would have
 released you out onto your way.”


Well its more lessons learnt for the next time I guess,
 as I wait to be brought home by escort.
If you need to stop for the bog, they’ll walk you right to the door,
 but the lift home there’s time for some thought.

A few hours later I’m well on my way, 
and I know at least I’ll get a warm bed.
Once I get back to the kids home where I live,
I’ll wash all my clothes and get fed.

But everyone knows that I’ll soon be back, 
via hitchhiking or bunking the train.
And I’ll always choose a different way to get there,
 it’s unwise to pick the same.

From Winnersh Triangle, Watford Gap, Oxford, Milton Keynes,
I’m searching for my independence.
Nothing stops these dreams.

I know that I can make my way, back to find Joanne.
Just go the way they least expect, was usually my plan.
Often I would walk through town, through Pinner, St Johns Wood.
As long as no-one knows I’m Ben, I’ll reckon I’ll be good.


You can purchase Poems From a Runaway for under £15 on Amazon
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1981314350

You can also get signed colour higher-quality paperbacks from £25 at
http://benwestwooduk.blogspot.com/p/poems-from-runaway.html

Hardbacks available on written request.
benwestwooduk (at) gmail.com





Part 9 of 60 - Running Further (part 2)




RUNNING FURTHER PART 2

I dart out of the door and take a sharp left, and then sprint through the nearby alleyway.
I know there’s a train station across the road, and plenty of time in the day.

Hope that nobody sees me and grasses me up, and I don’t know what time these trains come.
And only once have I ever even been on a train, when I went to Walsall once with my mum.

I got to the station, in just a few seconds, and a train had pulled in straight away.
I see there’s a lady train guard standing there, so I make my way over and say,

“Where does this train go?”, and she then replied “Birmingham”, so I went onto the train.
Hope that I’ve not been spotted, and my heart is now racing, but at the same time I try to act plain.


The train then starts moving, and my hearts beating faster, a mix of excitement and fear.
I’m scared that the police might recognise me, and maybe they’ll come onto here.

I’ve heard that Birmingham is a big place, and that is all I really know.
And no-one will think to look for me there, so that is where I will go.

I then get a ticket from the other train guard, hoping no questions are asked.
I pull out a twenty, because now I have plenty, and I’m leaving this place in the past.

“Child ticket?” he asks, and with “yes” I reply, and he gives me my ticket and change.
And I’m glad that the train’s driving so far away, as it now starts to get out of range.

A few stations later, the train then stops at Bloxwich, and on my carriage get on two police.
I hope they don’t see me, because it’s inside school hours, but I’m wearing my tracksuit and fleece.


I’m crapping it now, will they recognise me? Am I about to get caught by a cop?
But luckily, they both got off at Walsall, which thankfully was the next stop.

Past Bescot Stadium and Tamebridge Parkway, past Villa Park right into Brum.
I wonder by now if the police know that I’m missing, and reported by my foster mum.

‘Oh what a big tunnel, I’ve never done this’, I thought as the train pulled into New Street.
Tried my best to keep normal, and stay inconspicuous, as I got up from my seat.

The doors opened, I got off the train, and then felt an adrenaline stream.
First time in a city, whilst on my own tod, and the furthest alone that I’d been.

I walked behind the commuters, they all seemed in a rush, and then the main hall was where I got to.
Every time that I saw a police officer’s clothes, I tried my best to stay right out of view.


Convinced that they’d seen me, I’d quickly walk on, and then turn my head over my shoulder.
Did not hang about, as I felt I stood out, because everyone around was much older.

Walked outside of the station, and past some more police, but I didn’t spend that much time on the street.
I then turned around, to go back to the shop, to buy myself something to eat.

And then I saw, the departure boards, and on the list I then saw Coventry.
And I’d been fascinated by the designing of stadiums, when I’d see the football on the TV.

So that’s where I’ll go, to Coventry’s stadium, just have a quick peek from outside.
So I find my way to the ticket office, and go on to pay for my ride.

Back through the manned gates, and down to the train, on the way to Coventry I now go.
It’s been a good couple of hours since I had left, surely by now they must know.


No police on this train, I’m now much more relaxed, as I observe life around from this chair.
There are all sorts of people, going all sorts of places, and it’s not long until I get there.

I get off the train and then walk out of the station, to try and find where Coventry play.
But there weren’t many people, around to ask for directions, and I had no clue of the way.

I walked back in to the station, didn’t know what to do, still hoping I’d not yet been seen.
And then I saw, in bright orange letters, “London Euston” on the timetable screen.

‘London Euston?’ I thought, I wonder if that, is the capital city or not.
And if it is, then that sounds exciting, I’d like to go there a lot.

Or is it a village, in the middle of nowhere, that just happens to share the same name?
I don’t want to be, stuck out in the sticks, like I was in Great Haywood again.


So I asked a man, waiting inside the station, “Excuse me mate could you help me?
Does that writing there, that says ‘London Euston’, mean ‘London’ as in the city?”

The man in his twenties then chuckled and said, “Yes mate that’s the same place,
The train comes in five minutes, and arrives on this platform”, in which I then replied to him “ace.”

And when the train came, with excitement jumped on, the inside seemed well kept and plush.
As the train left, I once again, felt that same big intense rush.

The ticket inspector came up, I got out my cash, and said “A child single to London mate, please.”
As I gave him my money, he then printed my ticket, and looked at me with slight unease.

“Where are you going, when you get to London?” the ticket inspector then suddenly said.
Then I had to think, of the quickest thing, which had come to me from inside my head.


“I’m meeting a pen-pal” I replied, “Where does he live?” the ticket man says.
“I can’t quite remember”, was what I’d thought to say, “but I’m staying there for a few days.”

“Is anyone meeting you at the other end? Have you got a number for them you can call?”
In which I reply “his dad’s meeting me there, and I don’t have a number at all.”

“So where are your bags?” he continues to ask, “Surely you have packed up some clothes?”
“His dad’s lending me some”, was the answer I thought, and I start to wonder if he now knows.

“OK” he then said and he gave me a ticket, and then walked off once I’d said “thank you”.
A big sigh of relief, I can once again breathe, as I sit and I think to myself ‘phew’.

But it’s not over yet, could have he called the police? Will there be some at the other end?
Or did he believe, my quick made up story that I was off to see my friend?

(continues below ad and music) 





(continued)

The train pulls into Euston station, I can’t believe that I’ve made it here.
I get that same rush, that I’ve been getting all day, the mix of excitement and fear.

Don’t let the police see me, I try and act straight, in the middle of the crowds I will stay.
But my chances of getting caught now feel a lot slimmer, because I’m feeling so far away.

And then I walk into the main hall, still early and got loads of time.
Make my way through the station, and then I see, a big London underground sign.

I’d only once seen that red and blue symbol, on my mum’s computer game.
With some tunnels you’d walk through, with no tracks at all, I didn’t think that there’d be a train.

So for a few moments, in my mind I had thought, they were just tunnels to walk underground.
Until I’d seen, all the ticket machines, and then down below I heard a train sound.


I looked at the map, and I couldn’t believe, the number of stations I saw.
I know that I now, can get away, like I’ve not got to before.

This time it’s different, I’ve got money to travel, another ticket I can afford.
I read names of some places that I’d vaguely heard of, mainly from the Monopoly board.

Piccadilly Circus, Waterloo, King’s Cross and Leicester Square.
Leicester Square looks quite easy to get to from here, so I think that I will go there.

I buy a ticket and get down to the train, everything feels so busy to me.
Its hustle and bustle, and people look different, I feel that there’s so much to see.

I didn’t realise that the stations were close, I was surprised how quick I’d got there.
The train felt so fast, as it had passed, through the tunnels and then to Leicester Square.


The train soon pulls in, and I leave the tube station, and I take a short wander around.
The first time I’d seen buskers and human statues, and homeless folk there on the ground.

Portrait artists and tourists with maps, all different nationalities.
I heard Foreign-spoken languages all around me, and there seemed to be lots of Chinese.

Not too long after whilst still walking around, it had then started to lightly rain.
And I wasn’t sure, if it would star to pour, so I went back to get on the train.

I look at the map and I then see Piccadilly Circus is just one stop away.
And I’ve never been, to once see a circus, so there for a while I will stay.

Unknown to me then, it was only a few yards walk through Coventry Street.
I’d brought one more ticket, got back on the train, but had walked more than I’d sat in my seat.


I saw the bright lights that you’d see on the postcards, it felt like I was at the fair.
See yet more buskers, and tourists would get henna tattoos whilst sat on a chair.

I wandered around, and absorbed it all in, still with no plan or no purpose.
I then asked a man in a group out on the town, “Excuse me mate where is this circus?”

“This is it mate” he then replied, “There’s no circus?” I had then asked.
“It’s not that kind of circus, it’s because of the road”, he said as so many folk passed.

Not too long after, I made my way back, back on to the underground.
And once again looked at the tube map, to see what places could be found.

‘Angel’ sounded an interesting place, felt like something would be there.
But I soon got bored, with not much to do, so I decided that I’d go elsewhere.


I walked back to the tube, and then looked at the map, and saw ‘Arsenal’ next to a blue line.
I supported that team, and to go to Highbury, was a newfound childhood dream of mine.

After asking the staff inside the tube station, if that was where Arsenal play.
I then once again got on a train, sat down this time and made my way.

And to my surprise, the station was busy, plenty of folk were walking in.
And outside of the tube was a bloke selling scarfs, and flags from inside of a bin.

A game had been on, there at Highbury, so I made my way up to the ground.
The gates were still open and people were leaving, so I went inside to look around.

Up a few stairs and through the long hall, to the top corner of the end stand.
I imagine they’re playing, and Ian Wright’s scoring, and then in front of my face waves a hand.


“I’m sorry mate, but you’ve got to leave, we’re emptying the stadium now”,
“No worries” I said, because I was just glad, that I’d caught a good look somehow.

Out of the stadium, and back to the tube, I don’t really know where to go.
So I rode the tube back to Piccadilly Circus, where buskers would put on a show.

The sound of loud bongos, and folk having fun, when I got there it had now turned to night.
And it ain’t gone dead quiet, like where I am from, and the vibe at the time felt alright.

I walked down the street, where I saw a souvenir shop, so I buy myself a wallet from there.
And then soon I see, that I have quickly, wandered back to Leicester Square.

I walk past the buskers, and the Pizzerias, and the tube station that I now know.
But time’s ticking on, and I still haven’t found, any kind of shelter to go.


Back to the tube map, now where do I go, somewhere safe this time of night?
And then I saw, Whitechapel station, and thought that it sounded alright.

Surely I’m safe, near some big white chapel, it doesn’t sound a busy place.
No-one will be around there at night surely, which means that few will see my face.

I buy yet one more ticket, still plenty of money, and I feel like a millionaire.
Through the barriers, and down the escalators, a Rasta busker plays Bob Marley there.

I change at Kings Cross, learn to read the tube map, get on the Hammersmith and City line.
I’m sure it will be quite a beautiful place, and this big white chapel will be fine.



Ben Westwood is revealing a full poem a day of his sixty chapter true-story novel in poetry between April 20th - June 20th 2018.
If you'd rather not wait until June to read the full version then you can also order a copy of Poems From a Runaway on amazon for immediately delivery at 


Part 3 of 60 - Great Haywood

(You can pre-order 2nd edition signed colour paperbacks and hardbacks until 14th August @ 
https://www.crowdfunder.co.uk/a-runaways-story-of-living-on-the-streets)


If you'd rather not wait until June to read the full version then you can also order a copy of Poems From a Runaway on amazon for immediately delivery at 
(non colour/signed paperbacks)




GREAT HAYWOOD

Another bad letter from school today,
And my mum has already got stress.
I just feel now that I’m a burden on people,
And this is just gonna make mess.

Don’t wanna hear anger, don’t wanna hear shouting,
And I don’t wanna make my mum swear.
I just feel it’s better for everyone here,
If I made my own way elsewhere.

I don’t really know where I’m going,
But the road down to Stafford ain’t far.
I just really hope, that I don’t get caught,
By someone that spots me from a car.

So I make my way, a mile and half down the road,
Until there’s a turning to take.
There’s a sign that says ‘Stone’ and the name sounds quite cool,
So that is the way that I make.


Never heard of this place, but I think with that name, 
that there’s surely something to see.
So I head on my way, and I think by now,
That my mum could be looking for me.

I walk through the village of Little Haywood,
Still trying to head towards Stone.
Across the road were two girls, and one recognised me,
And I told them I’d ran off from home.

They offered to help me get somewhere to sleep,
“We’ll sneak you some food too”, they said.
I met them both later, and at first the plan,
Was for one of them to sneak me into their shed.

“I can’t get you in, because my dad is at home,
But here’s a blanket you can keep.
I know just the place, there’s a ditch down the road,
It’s sheltered and you’ll get some sleep”

So we made our way and walked up the road,
Through the village and then to the top end.
We then get to a junction, where there’s a main road,
 The way to Stone just round the bend.


One girl pointed over to across the road,
And said “Look there’s that ditch you can stay.
It’s covered in trees, look we got to go back,
Because there’s not much light left in the day.”

They’d gave me a pillow and I made a bed,
With a blanket and a bag that I’d lent.
They gave me some fruit and said “We’ve got to scoot,
We’ll see you tomorrow” then went.

I wondered around for a short while,
But soon did come the dark night.
And every few minutes came fast cars and headlights, 
And I just hoped that I’d stayed out of sight.

By now I know, that I’ve crossed the line,
And I’ve actually now ran away.
But I’m under the moon and now look at the stars,
And haven’t thought once about the next day.

When morning came, I then wandered around,
But there’s nothing at all here I can do.
So I waited around, to meet up with the girls,
When I’ll see them next I’ve not got a clue.


In the afternoon I then bumped into them,
When they had got back home from their school.
“The police have been asking everyone about you”
She said, but I just kept my cool.

“We’ll pop up by later, and drop you some food”,
One of the girls had then said to me.
“I’ll sneak out my pudding, and come and bring it out, 
to you once I’ve finished my tea”.

I met them both later and one girl had said,
“Maybe it’s time that you went back home.”
I said “I’ll be alright, I’ll just stay one more night,
Then make my way over to Stone.”

And then around midnight I must have been tired,
As I stared at the branch of a tree.
For over five minutes, I’d contemplated,
If there was a big spider in front of me.

I’d got really scared and then so made a leap,
Right out of the bush quick like a stag.
Now what do I do? Because in there’s my blanket,
My food, my coat and my bag.


So I make my way just a few yards down the road,
To a house with some lights I could see.
I knocked on the door, a middle-aged man had then answered,
I said “Please mate, could you help me?”

“I think there’s a spider in the bush I’ve been sleeping,
And I just need to get back my stuff.”
“How old are you mate?” he then asked me,
“And why are you out there sleeping rough?”

“Seventeen” I replied, and I’ve been kicked out,
Is there anything at all you can do?”
“I’ll just get my torch” he then said in reply,
“Then I will come there to help you.”

We walked to the bush and then he shone his torch,
And said “Mate, there’s nothing to fear,
Your stuff is alright, and there is no sight,
Of a spider that would bite you here.”

So then I said “Thanks”, and then off the man went,
And I felt like a fool for my scare.
And then I could see around four miles away,
A helicopter up in the air.

“What if that helicopter was looking for me?
“It’s probably not” in my head I had said.
Before closing my eyes, to try to get some sleep,
But I still have those thoughts in my head.

I’d got no more than around one hour of sleep,
And I’d woken up covered in sticks.
I went to find warmth, but there was nowhere at all,
By now it was sometime around six.

Two hours go by, oh now what should I do?
I shouldn’t stay here one day again.
But most of my morning I simply spent trying,
To get myself out of the rain.

I did all that I could, to try and find shelter,
But there’s nowhere, this village is small.
And then on my way back, again to the ditch,
It seemed that I’d hit a brick wall.

I don’t know how I’m gonna survive,
No money, no food and I’m wet.
There’s nowhere to go, except for back home,
And then I found myself upset.


The only thing, I could think of to do,
Was to flag down a car that came by.
And tell them that I, have ran away,
Maybe they’ll get me home into the dry.

So I see some cars, and I wave and I shout,
But the first five cars ignore.
And then a nice lady stops whilst I am crying,
I tell her I can’t run anymore.

“Get in” she says, “I’ll help you get back,
I’m a nurse” then she showed me ID.
I said I was scared that I’d let them all down,
But she said they’d be glad to see me.

We got to her house and she gave me a towel,
And then she rang the police from her phone,
She walked back in the room, and said “they’re on their way, your mum just wants you there back home.”

A policeman came by, and picked me up,
I was scared that my mum would be mad.
“Don’t worry” he said, “You just need your bed,
You’re alright and everyone’s glad.”

“If you’d not been found within the next half an hour,
We were gonna put you on the TV.”
And he then told me, last night they’d got a chopper,
Out all night looking for me.


Watch/ listen at


(You can pre-order 2nd edition signed colour paperbacks and hardbacks until 14th August @ 
https://www.crowdfunder.co.uk/a-runaways-story-of-living-on-the-streets)


If you'd rather not wait until June to read the full version then you can also order a copy of Poems From a Runaway on amazon for immediately delivery at 
(non colour/signed paperbacks)



Poems From a Runaway - Introduction




I dedicate this book to Sylvie, the first to shine a light on a great love that only a parent could understand. To Mum, for the crap I put her through, and giving up her youth to bring me into this world. To Dad and Kirsty for their great support and encouragement, especially throughout this project.

To all my friends and family, past foster parents, social workers and children’s home staff that made a positive impact on my life. To all the young people in care, care leavers and those working with them.
To the Connection at St Martins, for being my saving grace both as a runaway and immediately afterwards as a young homeless adult. And to the whole world. Pick up the phone and call that person no-one has a clue what is doing.

Let go of your grudges. There is strength in forgiveness. There is treasure in love.


Introduction

Plenty of people I’ve met that have heard snippets of my life story often comment about how hard it must have been.
The truth is, during most of this adventure, it wasn’t. Not consciously anyway. As you’ll find out, things certainly could have turned out much worse for me. A lot of the people I’d met on the streets had stories a lot more heartbreaking than mine.

And fortunately for me, some of the folk in this book were an important part in changing my outlook on life.
I sometimes wonder - who or what I could have become without these kinds of moments. For those that don’t know me (and those that perhaps think they do!), I don’t do the streets anymore.

Sure I’ve had my times being homeless as an adult, and perhaps with stories like this comes other hurdles, but being the sort of young person I was, it often felt easy.
I guess that I’ve softened up a bit now in my adult life.


But it wasn’t until the age of thirty-two - whilst writing this book - that I’ve ever really reflected on my teenage years as a whole. It’s been somewhat strengthening.
A lot of the people that I’ve written about in this book are now in a completely different time and space. Some for better and some for worse, but for most part – they’ve learned their wisdom along the way.

Perhaps this book will help refresh people’s memories into some of the abstract choices that can be made by a child’s mind?
Or perhaps give one or two social workers a better understanding of bamboozling work cases such as I was?
Welcome to my teenage world of runaways, drug-addicts, predators, alcoholics, prostitutes, down-and-outs, bag ladies, angelic acquaintances and beautiful souls.
Just one more thing…
Donations and money can only do so much for people. If you really want to help the soul of a homeless person, share with them a setting that you yourself would enjoy too.
Share dinner with them, get to know them, invite them to a party, play a game with them, invite them to football or do something creative… 

Just connect. The real deal. Some may have no idea of its importance.
So without further ado, I present to you, my childhood.


(More coming tomorrow!) 

Ben Westwood is revealing a full poem a day of his sixty chapter true-story novel in poetry between April 20th - June 20th 2018.
If you'd rather not wait until June to read the full version then you can also order a copy of Poems From a Runaway on amazon for immediately delivery at 

A great Resource for Social workers, foster parents and homeless support workers?


**WARNING - SPOILER ALERT!**

Obviously I was well chuffed when I saw this on Twitter, I and a few others have also thought it too.
If you don't already know, it's the memoirs of a runaway from the age of nine going through the care system and living on the streets of London at 13.

If work in the following related fields or are passionate about the subjects, you may find Poems From a Runaway a valuable resource in helping families, vulnerable young people and those in care.


Families and relationships, runaways. missing people, family and child psychology, social work, foster care, children's homes, life living on the streets as a teenager, homeless day centers and support services, rough sleeping, mental health, depression, youth workers, youth offending, hostels, support workers, children's rights, advocacy, care leavers, adoption, trauma, therapy, emotional wellbeing, safeguarding, bullying, counselling, domestic abuse. 

My book also sheds a light on:

The positive impacts of music and sport throughout my journey, including whilst sleeping rough.

Predatory behavior., manipulation, exploitation, and the attempts of child grooming made on me.

The world of drug addiction, crime and prostitution that I had been surrounded by.

The certain characters and living angels that made positive impacts in various ways during my experiences. 



As an independent self-published and first-time author it would be fantastic if you could help me spread the word about this book to social workers, support workers, foster parents and the like, by sharing this blog post to let them know about Poems From a Runaway.

You can read 14 of the 60 poems by clicking THIS LINK (opens in new tab)

Find out more about Poems From a Runaway HERE

You can order the full 334 page version from Amazon at the following link.



Perhaps it's important to note that despite some general readers, social workers and support workers giving some great feedback that they've enjoyed the book, I always wanted to write a book that more people would find easy to read and engage with. 
Having put this to the test, I believe this really could be a book that also helps those that perhaps haven't read for a while get back into reading again. 


I'm also selling colour signed copies via the paypal link below ;) 
Thanks for all your support and I hope my book helps people to understand the world of confused kids in care, runaways and missing people.



Quantity
signed? to? how many?