Daemon Mum: Naked Coach, Simone Caulbourne, and Other Life Stories

By LG Sotello

Extraordinary true story of untold secret Londoners in awe of their city. Milgram-inspired social experiment on deschooling, SEN, and labeled gifted. Fighting back the poverty through thought provoking, mind-blowing success in the gutters of Third World London and prestige. Triumph over adversity, courage of a mother to keep family, home and alternative holistic education, and brothers love for their sister. Storytelling is the quest for finding the lost blindfold of Lady Justice and protest against modern-day witch hunt by LEA and persecution.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jun 20, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468586305

LG Sotello

Sophie, Lucas and Gabriel Sotello are coauthors of debut novella memoires, Daemon Mum as part of Haka mama trilogy, a documentary they have collaborated on back in 2011 providing creative internships. The authors bring you new education paradigm’s enterprising experimental biography. This social commentary, presents experiences and realities of 21st century Dickensian London, brutally antagonized by the local council for providing bespoke alternative education, food for thought and raising awareness for need in financial literacy. Authors are “Promoting diversity in education, social justice and addressing isolation” through exploring art collectives movement renaissance, invites for creative internships and mentorships, accompanied with performance artist shorts on Youtube and Youku channels along new website Sotello.tv. All three live, work, and dream in London, New York and Stockholm whenever possible.

Book preview

© 2012 by LG Sotello. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/11/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-8578-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-8582-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-8630-5 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Credits: NLP Trainer, QMWC alumna, worked with leading auction house, royals, film dynasty, FTSE 100 Board. Left city dream job to home educate with credibility & vision through noughties, gifted, SEN and right brain learners like herself, promoting Big Society

Contents

Need an introduction

of foreword?

Makin’ Legend

Spring Cleaning

Naked Coach

‘Everybody Wants to

Be Cary Grant’

Namesake

For Liddy, Gabby, and Luc.

Need an introduction

of foreword?

Dear Readers you may not know what to expect since you have here a mix of letters, websites, and transcripts amidst the stories as our editors kindly pointed out, thanks kindly Mr David R. This was left blanc intentionally, sort of, excluding this brief intro., our life stories like life itself surprised us with the following, do enjoy and hopefully learn never to give up. xoxo

Monday, 09 April 2012

1:46 PM

Makin’ Legend-SW6 Folder.docx

Makin’ Legend

Weeks earlier, déjà vu happened.

26 odd weeks, to be precise.

Liffe masterklass. Unequalled.

Emerged from irrelevant stories. Stories of kounter-kulture. A description that fits perfectly, that Fiona Harrold described moment three decades ago. The adversity emulated itself, finding a worthy protagonist.

The only thought in her head was that we do need an au pair. An extra pair of hands. Not having an extra room didn’t promise good resolution to the burning question. With gratitude, she prays silently. In her mind, words she once heard echo. ‘The grace of god works in mysterious ways.’ No, not religious yet. Neither Christian nor Virgin reborn. But spirituality and celibacy was the only viable option.

It felt like a tap on the shoulder, a flutter of wings. An IRIDESCENT memory flew by her. She got off the 211 bus at Fulham Broadway tube station, by the Town Hall, and walked back a few metres away, turning right into Waterford Road, SW6, loathing the address.

She crossed the road to JCP Fulham.

At the reception, she asked, ‘First floor to see Zinah?’

‘Ground now.’

‘If you are going through hell, keep going.’ Winston Churchill

A news flashback of 2011. Burst into smile.

A passer-by, gloomy, almost whispers into his chin ‘What have you got to smile about?’ There were two horses making the news. Talking about coincidence. A police colicky horse called Zinah survives regardless of her age, and separately, Queen Milena was one of the best bets for the race.

Whose race are we running today?

When called to a greying Rasta crowned head, she still was smiling. ‘Check the jobs?’

‘Yes, but I’d rather advertise for interns myself.’

‘But what? You’re signing on JSA, aren’t you? You know the contract and the terms. Are you saying you’re not accepting it? . . .’

‘I thought I am entitled to Income Support. I have the tribunal letter.’

‘We have been in this situation before. Show me your CV first. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll be calling security, and you will be penalized for a fortnight.’

‘So you’re currently retraining for… what is this?’

‘Dog trainer.’

Her eyebrow shoots up.

‘Who’s the provider?’

‘Self-taught.’

‘That’s not acceptable. I can refer you to A4E in Hammersmith.’

‘No, thank you.’

‘If you’re refusing, then you lose the welfare. And kids! How will you feed them? Bordering with neglect, are we?’

‘There is always their grandma, and our neighbours with a bowl of soup. And I’ll be setting up a food bank in Chelsea.’

‘You’ve lost it, haven’t you? And I still have to interview you.’ She talks to herself.

The client on the other side of the table hums, hardly audibly, Sledgehammer, UB40. Wham compilations, themed. UB40 she read meant, ‘Unemployment Benefit, Form 40’ DHSS. ‘Rat in mi kitchen what are we gonna do? Hmm hmm. Wake me up before you go go . . .’ wham bam, thank you . . . think Bridget Jones, Adrian Mole… Adviser interrupts sudden:

‘I can call to see if Annie Ashdown could take you. But it’s only for executives, I’m guessing.’

‘I’m an executive washroom.’ (Talking heads get me calm ‘slippery people.’)

‘I really don’t follow you. One step at a time.’

‘So what has Annie Ashdown even achieved that I haven’t?’

‘She’s been on the telly.’

‘Yeah. On Jeremy Kyle, vile. I’ve been on Matthew Wright’s show C5.’

‘As what?’

‘Well, as a loser, of course. Audience!’ not graced the sofa yet, winks.

‘Well Annie Ashdown has a contract with us.’

‘And I have an NLP Trainer’s certificate.’

‘Have you done your CV by yourself?’ Grey elegant CV out of matching envelope and copy of Dante’s work in Italian, pitch-black hard cover inscribed in gold Inferno. Divina comedia, scribble on Post-it:

Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita

mi ritrovai per una selva oscura,

ché la diritta via era smarrita.

‘RESUME. All me!

‘Done all by myself. With a little bit of help from my son. That’s what I do. That’s what we do. Our franchise.’

‘Oh well. And what are you franchising? Poverty?’

‘Might as well! Have it in abundance.’

‘Whose quotes are these? ‘Amazing,’ ‘breath of fresh air,’ ‘faultless to destruction,’ ‘impressive CV’?’

‘All my previous employers.’

‘Your employers?’ She scoffs.

‘Sooo… you worked for a Royal couple? Princess Katherine, you say? And two of her charities? And you have the references?’

‘Would testimonials and photos do?’

‘Hold on a second here. ‘Movie therapist’ as well?’ the elderly advisor says as she eases herself off her seat by leaning on a desk.

‘Yeah, maybe I should sue Hollywood,’ mumbles the client to her chin as she swivels away.

The advisor shortly returns, accompanied by a man.

‘This is my supervisor.’ She fails to mention the name.

The client nods.

‘She states here on her CV that, apart from Princess Katherine, she worked for Kevin Lomax, George Bailey, and with Noel Coward’s muse, the Nightingale.’

‘Are these your words? This is an obvious CV bluff. And I’m not sure I even want to see testimonials. They’re just going to be fabrications.’

‘I’ve checked her LinkedIn, Twitter, oh, and her Facebook. Just pictures lifted from the Internet! What are you, a fantasist?’

‘No, not really. I’m real, I’m true, and I know what I’m talking about.’

‘On the monster.uk version of your CV, you stated that your reference is a director of Deutsche Bank for reusable energy. Stepped just a little bit far?’

‘‘Met an angel’?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yeeees?’

‘What do you want me to say? Been there, done that? I got a T-shirt to prove. Well, references and photos.

Shall I bring my scrapbook next time?’

‘I think I’ll be calling the police. This is fraud.’

‘That’s your call. I’ve got the tribunal letter here. There is no fraud, and there is the proof of life lived, even if it is now a sad existence compliments of SW6. DWP. And as for A4E, isn’t she the liar that you’ve got on a payroll?’

‘I’ve Googled.’ The advisor turns to her supervisor. ‘Kevin Lomax is a character in the movie called Devil’s Advocate. Played by Keanu Reeves.’

‘George Bailey? He’s played by James Stuart in… was it Life Is Beautiful?’

Who’s the Nightingale?’

‘Judy Campbell Birkin? British dynasty?’

‘Ohoho! Oh, it’s not enough royalty, but some dynasties as well?’

‘Well, I can tell you stories of the Ottoman. Have you got time for that? I was under the impression that advisors only have time for a few minutes per client.’

‘OK, let’s just close this up and call security. Not only is she doing a Big Society enterprise turning to client, as far as I know, RBKC has its own Portobello Business Centre enterprise…’

‘Not very enterprising! Covering funder’s hidden agenda.’

‘And you are developing a franchise? You’re bankrupt, let me remind you! To start a franchise you need £30k…’

‘Not for a social one. You need only £1k. The manual comes for free. For you, it’s £20. Signed.’

Ignoring the client as if she wasn’t there, ‘She needs a reality check, or medication. Or she’s simply making a fool out of us and disrupting everything. Call the security, it’s your call.’

The elder woman turns her back to the supervisor.

The man turns to the client, putting his polite face on, hardly covering his seething frustration. ‘Why don’t you just sign your JSA today, and we’ll refer you to a local cleaning agency. If you’re lucky, you might have your FTSE100 dream to clean there. Refuse, and you’ll lose it. No job, no food, no roof, no kids.’

‘I am entitled for Income Support.’

‘Are you a foster carer?’

‘I’m a carer, respite. I’m a mother of a disabled child with DLA middle-rate, that you wrongly advised me that she wasn’t entitled without statementing. And now, I was told that she can’t have direct payment without a biased assessment for pigeon phobia, a recording will do, witnessed by GP.’

Supervisor turns to the advisor. ‘This beats all CV bluffs so far. By far, the best, though. Call the fraud office and have her arrested.’

‘What’s your real name? On your passport it doesn’t say Sophie.’

‘I never said it is. It’s the nickname given by my kids.’

‘Just don’t leave. Security!’ He points to the security guy and then to the head of the seated, calm client.

‘Let’s see if you are who you say you are.’

1,280 WORDS

Security, there is an Indian accompanied by wrinkle-face in bed-sheet togas, escort them out.

but… that’s great soul and Mother Teresa.

. . . look-alikes, doubles? Actors out of work.

Imagine if they were real. Feed you bread of shame. Choke.

Dear Mrs Sotello,

Thank you for your email dated 13 April 2012.

I can confirm that the scope of the investigation undertaken my by team was twofold. To check residency (proof of life? Have none) . . . any discrepancies will be investigated accordingly (please do).

During my visit, I do not recall any discussion regarding the production of a report especially as the matter is still ongoing and no conclusion has yet been reached. But I will ensure that a copy of your investigation file notes is produced and sent forthwith.

Please note that in the production of the file copies we will have regard for Section 30 of the Freedom of Information Act 2000.

Mr Holgate has been notified of my response accordingly.

Yours Sincerely, Andy Hyatt Group Leader, Corporate Investigation Group RBKC

Nota Bene: New addition to Sotello Text-book for MMXII, catalogue of errors (mum stories) or rather Comedy of Errors, Compass Error. This nicely provides real-life, up-to-date case studies, comparison study in class war and slavery that apparently was abolished 200 years ago. Amazing Grace DVD, CD, help soothe the demon awaking, unleashed deep within my accent goes with you. Fairley House reflects true value of our achievements, puts it into perspective, compare.

Section 30 of the Freedom of Information Act 2000? What the f*** is that, shackles 4m? Democrazy.

http://regulatorylaw.co.uk/Freedom_of_Information_Act_2000.html

In layman’s terms, please, son?. . . perform a public interest balancing exercise for and against disclosure… prosecute… So I am criminal mum, criminalizing motherhood, persecute, he better be right or it is slander, liable (even if I have no solicitor).

So they are saying our case does, epistolary, not serve public interest of corporate greed, incompetence, and unaccountability to taxpayers or beneficiaries? Sacrifice (career, livelihood, spending power, marriage, health) of motherhood to remedy mistaken SEN, surgery, and witch-hunt on BME, vulnerable but resourceful family is a crime? There are authorities above his even if he forgot it, there is law, there is God. I trust in justice system and God, not Hyatt, self-serving, believing own spin. Watch the watcher.

Learn lessons, experiences of Daemon mum so don’t have to feel it on your own skin, hot iron branding… sobbing, reduced to this, no child should witness mother being so callously violated.

I found our PM address and how to write to him:

The Rt Hon David Cameron MP, Prime Minister, 10 Downing Street, London SW1A 2AA

There is no use, son, weather the storm,