Molly Paris

Click here to load reader

  • date post

  • Category


  • view

  • download


Embed Size (px)

Transcript of Molly Paris

  1. 1. 8 Star, Wednesday, November 28, 2012 FEATURES Two lines hdy two lines hdy TIME and time again, following a trag- edy we hear of the failings of the social services or other agencies who could have prevented it - if only they had com- municated effectively. Sadly, we are witnessing the same again over the failure to properly iden- tify Hannah Bonser as a risk and who went on to kill an innocent teenager, Casey Kearney.. A report published into Bonser once again identies systemic failings - so bad that the killer became almost invisible to the council and health services that should have been helping her to cope with her mental state. Bonser, herself, is a victim - let down by the system as a child - and the inde- pendent review identies a number of missed opportunities to safeguard her from neglect. That failing is important because it would have had a material bearing on her mental wellbeing - a condition that led to her stabbing to death young Casey. And those failings, though uncon- nected, continued into her adult life. Bonser told many agencies many times that she might harm someone - yet she was not identied as a high risk. She was well known to the agenices and was seen by 16 different psychia- trists and more than 20 community workers. Surely someone overseeing her case would have been aware that this was wrong. But there was no-one who acted as a lead professional to oversee her care and treatment. Once again we are being told that as a result organisations need to conduct better monitoring, record keeping and training. Sadly, that is too late for Bonser, but more importantly, it is too late for poor Casey. Manors panto is a crowd pleaser ITS a city institution, as Shefeld as Hendersons Relish and just as much- loved. The Manor Operatic panto at the City Hall has entertained hundreds of thousands of Shefelders and is an established favourite in many a family diary. This years performances mark the companys 25th year, a remarkable feat by anyones standards. The group reckons every year more than 25,000 of us turn out to see them, a testament to their dedication and talent. So never mind whether the economy is agging, the Manor panto never fails to perform. Thats because it makes us feel good and thats why it continues to live on, OPINION Follow the Editor on @TheStarEditor OurMollytriesspeed-datingincityoflove Find love in Paris? Are you in Seine! OurMollytriesspeed-datingincityofloveOurMollytriesspeed-datingincityofloveOurMollytriesspeed-datingincityofloveOurMollytriesspeed-datingincityofloveOurMollytriesspeed-datingincityofloveOurMollytriesspeed-datingincityofloveOurMollytriesspeed-datingincityoflove Find love in Paris?Find love in Paris?Find love in Paris?Find love in Paris?Find love in Paris?Find love in Paris?Find love in Paris? Are you in Seine!Are you in Seine!Are you in Seine!Are you in Seine!Are you in Seine!Are you in Seine!Are you in Seine! THERE are certain words which, when thrown together, make me squirm. Fancy and dress, for one. Ofce and party, another duo. But the pairing which really makes my skin crawl is speed and dating. I can almost smell the desperation seeping from my ngertips as I tap those words out on my keyboard. So when airline offered me a place on their rst ever Love Plane - whisking 100 singletons from Yorkshire off to Paris for a day of match-making fun - I didnt exactly jump at the chance. But since dying alone looks increasingly likely, and since I have been asked out once in the six months I have lived in Shef- eld, and since almost every phone call back home to Barrow is met with havent you got yourself a fella yet, our Molly? - I decided to put my pride and prejudice aside and hop on board a ight to France. My quest for love begins on a cold November morning at Leeds Bradford Air- port. Outside is pitch black. There is not even a hint of the morning sun and yet my eyes are xed, razor-sharp on every man within a half-mile radius. V-neck t-shirt? No thanks. Bright red chinos? Jog on. Ironic bobble hat? Taxi for bobble boy! Despite my initial concerns, I chat to some lovely people. Some applied for their seat through Jet2, some through radio station Capital FM and others have been roped into joining friends. Kerry Jennings, 25, from Gleadless, Shefeld was nominated by colleagues at Catcliffe-based Dormer Tools. They call us the Dormer Dollies, she says. I am the youngest there so they thought theyd put me forward for it. And just in case we need any dating tips, Mario and Lucy from ITV2s The Only Way is Essex have been drafted in to accompany us on the trip. A quick power nap later and we arrive at Charles de Gaulle airport. There is chance for a cou- ple of snaps beneath the Eiffel Tower - half lost in an autumn mist - before boarding our boat for a cruise along the River Seine. Already the majority of Yorkshiremen and women are showing a typical Brits abroad approach to the free drink on the table. There is a ne Bordeaux to ac- company the red meat main, then a crisp Chardonnay to go with dessert. But as I look around me, glasses are being lled to the brim with the nearest bottle to hand regardless of its colour. Dont these folk watch Come Dine With Me? After a beautiful two-course meal its on with the dating. Were told we have to score our dates out of 10 for attractiveness, sexiness and personality. First up is Daniel Cooper, 27, from York. On the surface, he isnt my type, but he is polite and sweet. I ask his profession - a bricklayer. Nice, at least hell have a sturdy set of shoulders. We chat about York, places to go out. Its all going surprisingly well. What football team do you support? I ask. Leeds United, replies Daniel. So close. Next up is Carl Watson, a 28-year-old personal trainer from Selby. Hes clearly a lovely lad, but is slightly tipsy and begins to tell me about the girl who broke his heart. Now I am no dating expert, but Im pretty sure talking about the ex within the rst 30 seconds of a ve-minute date is considered a bit of a faux-pas. I want to shake him, to tell him to man up, to say save the sob story for your X Factor audition - but instead I nod sym- pathetically while wondering how Barrow AFC are getting on. Date number three is Daniel James, 22, from York. He seems nervous, but the journalist in me helps prevent any awk- ward silences with my dates. This is an interrogation, a barrage of whos, whats, whens, wheres and whys Paxman would be proud of. When I nally stop to look across the table I see I have reduced him to a quivering wreck. Hes contemplating jumping overboard rather than spending the remaining two minutes opposite this demon in a dress. So far, not so good. Around me would-be couples laugh and chat and ply each other with booze. I resolve to try and be more laid-back with my next date. He walks over and pulls my handshake into a kiss on his wine-stained lips. Not the best start. I point out the splendour of the Eiffel Tower as we sail past, he mentions something about Blackpool. Seriously, mate? The penultimate date is a far more pleasant experience. His name is Tom and he is a 28-year-old reghter from Leeds. There is no spark but I enjoy our chat. Last up is Adam Bradshaw, 26, a lawyer from Shefeld. I clocked his coat in the air- port. Well-dressed, tall, dark hair. Could be on to a winner here. But Adam and I dont seem to have much in common, other than the fact we live in Shefeld and are obsessive about cleanliness. Reader, I didnt marry him. By the end of the session, red wine has turned a lot of teeth a deep shade of scarlet. It has gone from looking like an episode of Take Me Out to a scene from Dawn of the Dead in one swift boat ride. As Jet2 collect in the cards I take a sneak peek at what one of my dates scored me and immediately wish I hadnt. Despite being in the most romantic city in the world, the jaunt did not result in a love-match, though Id have happily eloped with the dashing Parisian working in the duty-free shop. Or the chap with the chis- elled cheekbones in Passport Control. But at least I learned a few things about myself along the way. Firstly, dont knock it until youve tried it, that I score a solid 4/10 in the attractiveness stakes (thanks Carl) and I would quite like to marry a Frenchman. So perhaps just a one-way ticket will do next time... byMOLLY LYNCH News Reporter Non, merci Non, merci Non, merci Love talk: Star reporter Molly Lynch declines the ad- vances of these three suitors while speed dating in Paris The Star, Wednesday, November 28, 2012 FEATURES Follow Colin Drury at _drury YEARS and years ago now when the Leveson Inquiry rst started I read an opinion piece in a local newspaper about the phone hacking scandal. I bet you imagine, the writer noted, that, as a journalist, Im always break- ing into voice mails. I bet you think Im bribing council of- cials and paying police off. I icked back to the front page. The splash was about a doctor running a race to raise money for a patient. Something told me no- one had risked jail to nail that scoop. Still...that was sort of his point. Hed never broken any laws in the name of journalism, he said. Neither have I, unless you count once forgetting to buy a Supertram ticket. And nei- ther, Im condent, have any of my colleagues. Our stock-in-trade, see, is legal journalism: in holding local institutions to account, investigating local issues, reporting local crimes and supporting local campaigns. The Star is here to inform you what the council is slash- ing next or to reveal what the student games are still costing or to tell you why the police were round at number 57 last night. Its not in the remit to lis- ten to Sean Beans voice mail; or pay paps to sit outside Jess Enniss home in the hope of getting an upskirt shot. Its a paper thats part of the community, and you cant be part of any com- munity if people dont trust you because youre mired in corruption. Hacking, blagging,