Notting Hill - Day 1

It's not all fighting in the streets and eating jerk chicken you know.

Neither is it all getting deafened by the floats and sound systems, being crushed by the crowd, or being asked for directions to the tube station for the three thousand, four hundred and sixty second time.

No, in between patrolling and dealing with incidents, we have to keep up with a gruelling and punishing fitness regime:



It's not easy being a Policemanofficer you know. Level II public order suits do not lend themselves naturally to any kind of physical activity.

There will be more photos tomorrow from Monday's fun. In the meantime, if you're not sure what I'm talking about check out the Police Slang post. Then look under "Not Carnival Related."

I have been posted with probationer officers regularly for quite some time. Most have been great, a couple have been complete nightmares, and a couple have left the job since.
Not due to being posted with me, I hasten to add.

Because of that, it's a nice experience to spend time with less fresh officers.
I actually like going out with probationers, but occasionally it's relaxing to know that I don't have to worry about what the other copper with me is doing, and can just trust them to get on with the job.

I recently had an Aid requirement which was like this - for non Met officers, 'Aid' is when you are sent off borough to Aid other areas or departments with your presence, such as football aid, festivals, protests and the like.
For perhaps the only time I've ever had this, our entire serial of officers (one, three and twenty one) was bereft of probationers, full of skilled and capable officers.

An error on duties part, I'm sure.

Because of this, despite being a very long winded, busy, and violent type of aid, it was also paradoxically one of the most relaxing and straight forward.

Every time we piled into a crowd to stop a fight, I knew that my oppo would be with me. I knew that when we went into a violent situation single file I didn't have to worry about a copper getting lost, or being unable to deal with the situation.
I knew that when we were facing off, hugely outnumbered against a drunken heaving crowd, I wouldn't have to worry about anyone saying the wrong thing to someone in the crowd.

I mentioned this last point to a good mate of mine on my carrier, as we faced off against the braying crowd in question. He had to raise his visor to hear me, so I had to repeat myself.
"Hmmm" came his answer, followed by a thoughtful expression. This was not what I had expected. "What? Don't you agree?"
Another thoughtful face.
"Well now Area, yes, in theory I do. But instead of a half dozen probationer officers guaranteed to say or do the wrong thing, we have you instead."
Outrage. This from someone I had considered a friend, for years. "I resent that suggestion, and demand an apology."
"Area, you're a nice fella, but you know as well as I do that the public order manual has nothing about bringing a packet of joke sweets to work and offering them to the other coppers on your serial. It has even less about offering said sweets to crowds of thugs. Do us a favour, I want to get home before daylight tonight. Just shush..."

Huh.

Seals & Crofts

This has been a semi regular post to write recently. Another post apologising for my lack of them.
This is partly to do with a recent huge amount of Aid requirements, meaning spending very long periods of time in the back of a public order carrier.

It is also partly due to the fact that recently I have been doing courses. Courses that have the potential to (hopefully) make me some money and get to do some more interesting Policing type things. Although I've no plans to leave response team at the moment - I like my days off too much.

More important than either of those is the fact that I am actually quite enjoying work at the moment. A lot of my blog posts (as per the norm for Police blogs) are inspired by moaning. By bad shifts, by not enough time off, by crap from above.
All this and more is still happening.
But.
Sometimes in this job you just go through purple patches, and I am tentatively having one at the moment. The bad shifts keep coming, the crap keeps coming down and the calls don't stop.
But.
I am being left alone to play at work by my direct supervisors, I've got some more interesting things to do, and of course it's sunny.

And now I bring myself to the most pertinent point in my lack of posts.
It's sunny, and recently I have rediscovered the joy of making the most of my rest days. I've made new friends, strengthened friendships with acquaintances, and got closer to previously already close friends. I'm a lucky man. Barbecues, food, drink and company make the joys of the internets pale in comparison.

Must try harder.

R/T Set

Is this thing still on..?

It was a lonely Sunday evening night shift, and we had but one thing to be excited about.
We had been warned that at 0100 hours the radio system would go down for five minutes.

Five minutes without calls being given out, five minutes with no back up if we were already dealing with calls or came across something direct.
Five minutes of peace...

As the night wore on, we were given regular reminders that it would be happening.

At about ten to one, the controller keyed up "All units Bravo X-ray, just a reminder about the switch off for maintenance for the airwave sets. There will be no receiving or transmitting capability from 0100hours for a period of five minutes at most. A repetition, no radio capability from 0100hours for a period of five minutes maximum. If there are any problems after the five minutes or the radios don't come back online, call me direct."
Silence
"Er, Bravo X-ray from BX201 - how do we call you direct to let you know the radios aren't working, if, well, the radios aren't working?"
Laughter around the borough. The femal controller keyed up again:
"Sorry petal, I don't make the rules. I'm sure I'll think of something by then..."

A wonderful example of prior planning by the met.

Incidentally, the radios did come back on line after just under five minutes, and no one died in that time.

Op Blunt

Recently (after successfully avoiding it for a while) I have been doing a few shifts on Operation Blunt.

For those of you lucky enough not to be au fait with the practicalities of the operation for street PCs, here is a short summary.

On regular days response team officers (and occasional others) are warned for "Op Blunt." We will be taken off our already short teams, and given a parade time with operational orders. We will parade at our nick on that day at the given time, and have a short briefing.

Then the fun begins. We will then drive to a central parade point, and from then to whichever borough we have been assigned to patrol for Operation Blunt. Often we will pass officers from different boroughs heading towards our borough to patrol it.
We like to wave at them.












If this car I've stopped has people with knives, where is my back up? On the other side of London of course.


We then get a further briefing at the central parade point, and then all embuss and head over to the Division we are assigned to, and patrol there to proactively deter knife crime. We are encouraged to stop search, but we are not allowed to take the vast majority of calls that come out.
Not that we could, as we wouldn't know the way anyway.

If we get prisoners, we have the joy of booking them in and dealing with them in a strange nick.

Because of all the parade and briefing/travelling time/operational feeding/parade and briefing/getting lost on way to ground assigned/de-briefing at area/travelling time back to borough, we obviously spent a relatively small amount of time actually on patrol.

After doing our short hours on patrol, we then make our way across London back to our home borough, not forgetting to wave at the non-local officers leaving our borough. Then home for tea and cakes.

Of course, if we had been allowed to put these numbers on to OUR borough on response teams, we would have been able to have enough coppers to both respond to calls AND to proactively patrol. Most coppers regularly try to prevent knife crime given the time. We might even be able to use a little of our local knowledge to actually target our patrols, and get to places without arguing over the A-Z.












I didn't need an A-Z for this call. What I needed was a large amount of non-existent officers to help with the mad person waving a twelve inch kitchen knife around.


Anyway. Something I heard over the radio on Operation Blunt made me giggle manically for an inappropriate amount of time.

Control: "Units to assist on an I Grade please, robbery at Brixley bus garage in the past two minutes .on a number 37 bus."
Unit: "Bravo X-ray, show Bravo X-ray Two Zero One. Have you got a description?"
(Pause for comedy effect...)
Control: "Bravo X-ray Two Zero One, it's red with four wheels."


I can't help but find it reassuring that even in The Kremlin there are still long forgotten slightly eccentric people manning the microphones.
Long may their reign remain undiscovered by the people in the Ivory Towers.

Level II

Here is my level II kit, washed and ready for action again.













Look closer... is that an issued t-shirt?

It is Ruralshire issued kit, which, lets face it, is more comfy and practical than the kit from my force, and at least turns up within the decade I order it.










Thanks to the Guvnor for authorising the uniform request.


Mutual aid is a wonderful thing, not least because coppers get to moan to a new audience, play tricks on new victims, and show off their kit/get depressed about other forces kit.

Sometimes it makes you proud.

Driving along the A-road, watching carriers come the other way.
From many forces, travelling from far and wide.

A couple of kent carriers, glorious in their battenburg markings, officers with ties on, speeding past at a decent speed.

Ditto the South Yorkshire van.

Ditto the two carriers from Wales.

Ditto the van from Thames Valley Police.

Then the met... two dirty, twelve year old carriers - one with a van load of coppers asleep in the back, the second with no ties and window lickers.
Ten minutes later, another Met carrier. This one leaning to one side at an alarming angle, as though it was tacking against the wind, making a rattling sound that carried over the busy road and through the car's soundproofing.

God Bless the Met.