Another Sheep To Be Shorn: Men and Divorce

By Simon Brown

Simon Brown is an ordinary working Man, yet with his decision to be a ‘Respondent in Person’ the UK Family Courts and his Wife’s hoard of Credit Funded Family Lawyers subjected him to a near 4 Year Divorce wrangle over his only real asset; his Home. With incredible humour Simon takes the reader through his early and married life and then the farce of the Divorce Proceedings.

ANOTHER SHEEP TO BE SHORN – MEN AND DIVORCE is a sad yet very funny breeze through the life and courtroom dealings of an everyday working class man pulled through the gun barrel of the Family Court in what Simon himself describes as a ‘System Run by Women for Women’.

This incredible new Paperback and downloadable eBook has already provoked responses from pre-launch readers and reviewers in the UK, Ireland, USA, Canada, Europe, the Middle East, India, China, Asia, Australia & New Zealand, which only goes to prove this new book aimed at Divorcing Men and Friends of Divorcing and Separated Men is hitting it’s Mark.

As a Woman I can tell you I absolutely love this Book! In 20 years of reviewing Books and working in Publishing I have never read anything quite like it, perhaps Women really do like ‘Peeping over the Neighbours Fence’!

Download or Order your copy of ANOTHER SHEEP TO BE SHORN – MEN AND DIVORCE today, it’s a serious subject but a Great Fun Read!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon Brown
• Release date: May 7, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463511671

Simon Brown

Simon is married to Anita and together they’ve raised six children in the small rural community of Glenbrook, south west of Auckland, New Zealand. Simon has worked as a carpenter, commercial fisherman, cowshed hand, rouseabout, building contractor, student, labourer, pastor, school chaplain, youth worker and writer. His interests include most things but above all, he enjoys mucking around with family, and a few close friends, trading yarns.

Book preview

Another Sheep to be Shorn-Men and Divorce

By

Simon Brown

Copyright ©2019 Another Sheep Publishing. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

CONTENTS

Foreword

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

FOREWORD

Hello,

I am guessing that you have purchased this book because you have some sort of divorce or relationship issue going on in your life, or perhaps you have a friend experiencing this. Maybe you are just having a peek inside the book (if you are having a peek, don’t just dip your toe, come on dive in, the water is lovely!)

Around half of all marriages end in divorce, so rest assured you are not alone, many have trodden this path before and many will again.

Through reading my story you will gain some understanding of what is ahead and you will learn a thing or two as well.

Every relationship is different of course, just as every divorce is different, but there are common threads and features to be found in every divorce, wherever you are located in the World.

Throughout this book you will find humour, when all is hopeless and you are feeling the strain, a good joke is what often gets you through, well that was my approach anyway, if in doubt, have a laugh;

‘My friend asked me, ‘Why are you getting a divorce?’ I responded, My wife was out all last night, and in the morning when she returned, she said she spent the entire night at her sister’s house.’

He said ‘So?’ And I said; ‘She’s bloody lying, I was the one who spent the night at her sister’s house!!’

Read on dear friend, read on, let me lead you by the hand and guide you through the streets of divorce town. I will show you something that might make you change your mind! If you didn’t recognise that as song lyrics please don’t worry, I don’t burst into song at any point in this book.

I hope you enjoy my story’ I’m sure you will, the thoughts of millions are with you.

Best Wishes.

CHAPTER ONE

It’s a bright and sunny day as I walk along High Street in Newtown towards the Court House, having just parked the car. A blue sky sort of a day in fact and I’m feeling a little bit nervous, but not too bad to be honest. It's about to 9:30 in the morning; I am in the Home Counties to the North of London, my appointed Court time being around 10:30. I’ve been told to arrive around half an hour early for consultation (whatever that means!) so I arrive at the Court House in plenty of time. I’m not sure what to expect, so I open the door to find an airport style metal detector arch, with two uniformed guards awaiting my entry. Tweedledum and Tweedledee!

Sure they’re not waiting just for me, but somehow my apprehension level shifts up a gear and I suddenly feel guilty of a crime I am yet to commit!

I clutch the paperwork in my hand, no briefcase or man-bag or anything like that. Immediately the two guards are upon me and request, quite coolly, that I empty my pockets. I smile weakly in an attempt at some bonhomie with my fellow man, which fails quite miserably, so I stick my hand into my pocket and empty out the contents into the plastic tray set before me. I smile again, one of those smug ‘I’ve got nothing to hide’ kind of smiles and look the tallest guard straight in the eye.

Is this yours Sir?

The smile wavers on my face as I look down.

There amongst my hanky, keys, wallet and mobile phone lies a penknife, winking its blade conspiratorially at me in the glare of the overhead lights.

When I say penknife, it’s a really small one. I don’t know why it was in my pocket in the first place, and it had somehow sprung itself open, and lay with its blade sticking menacingly outwards.

I swallow nervously and manage a lame laugh, feeling like a naughty schoolboy.

Ha ha, yeah I'm really sorry I didn't realise it was in there.

Tweedledee (or was it dum?) picks up the knife and inspects the blade before snapping it shut with a decisive click.

They look at each other knowingly before turning their attention back to me.

Well Sir. We will have to confiscate that. If you sign this piece of paper you can collect it again on your way out.

I sign quickly and move into the courtroom, glad to have made it this far. I start to ascend a spiral staircase and it starts to wobble. I’m not too sure if it’s me or the design; the guards and now this. Maybe it’s all part of the grand plan, to unnerve me before the courtroom battle? There is a definite tremor in my legs.

At the top I pause for a moment to get my bearings, when down below I hear a commotion by the court entrance door. Gazing back down through the staircase I see my wife.

Not just my wife, but my wife and her entourage: the wife's lawyer, her friend and a junior lawyer (hand holder) in tow- basically a gang of four.

They follow my route up the staircase, although they don’t seem to wobble, and sit in the Family Court area. No sooner are they seated, an usher walks across to my wife and tells her that she has in fact booked a ‘private booth’.

Private bloody booth! Lovely.

They tootle off to cast more spells in private and I’m left to sit alone, except for one black uniformed security guard sitting reading the Sun or the Mirror newspaper.

My wife, wife’s lawyer, friend and junior lawyer are ushered whisperingly into a private, glass fronted booth to continue their pre- court discussions. By this time my throat’s feeling a little dry and I look around for water or a coffee machine. I can see a water cooler but no cups. As I look around for the cups, in walks the lady usher, whom I would say at a guess is aged somewhere between 35 and 40 and of a slim build. I can only describe her as mutton dressed as lamb. It was like something out of a clichéd porn film. She was wearing a very, very short black mini skirt, a white blouse, glasses and high heeled shoes. Call me old fashioned, but not the attire I expect of a courtroom usher. Anyway, I ask her if there are any paper cups.

She looks me up and down like a prize bull before saying she will go and fetch me one. It’s a little odd, but my day so far has been a little odd, so I stand and look out of the second storey window until she returns. Rather apologetically, she tells me the water cooler is a little difficult to use and teeters over in her high heels to fetch me a cup of water. At the cooler she bends right over, bottom up and wiggling in a suggestive manner straight in my general direction.

I rub my eyes, just in case I’m seeing things, before looking over my shoulder and expecting to see another bloke. But the place is empty, only me. The floor show is all for my benefit.

Oh my god! Was this really the time and place to be picking someone up?

It did cross my mind that a game of ‘hide the sausage’ might not be a bad idea, but I was far too nervous for anything like that. Smiling provocatively she hands me the water before disappearing off. Perhaps it was a test of some sort?

She appears minutes later, having remembered her role as usher (and not porn star) and asks me my name and time of the court appearance.

Then she asks if I am the applicant or respondent, and to be honest I’m not too sure.

Respondent I think, I reply.

Ah, another sheep to be shorn, she smiles and walks away.

And at that moment I think ‘oh god, maybe that’s exactly it; another sheep to be shorn’.

Another man put on the conveyor belt to be wheeled in, relieved of his worldly possessions and then seen out the back door.

I start to drink the water and glance at my watch. It’s only 10 a.m. so I look around for something to take my mind off things. A huge pile of magazines is stacked on the table in front of me. It consists of every magazine known to woman, but there is not one single copy of a man’s mag. Where were GQ, Esquire or any sort of men’s magazine when you need them? I would have settled for a travel magazine or even a car mag, anything you would normally get in the barbershop or a dentist waiting room, but there is absolutely nothing for a guy. This place is completely set up for women (probably by women), a place where men just come along to be relieved of their earthly goods before being spat out again.

So I just sit and wait for the appointed time, watching the second hand on my watch crawl around the dial. Just before 10:30 I see the wife’s barrister arrive. That makes 5 of them, and I start to feel outnumbered and nervous. And come to think of it, where did she get the money from to pay for a private booth and all of this legal support? That shows you how naïve I was!

After a slight delay we are finally ushered through to the family court at 10:45.It reminds me of an old British TV show from the 70’s and 80’s called Crown Court; wood panelling everywhere with very little light coming in.

The room is divided up into rows of desks all facing towards the judge. It's a lady judge (of course). The lady usher, my soon-to-be ex-wife, lawyer, lawyer’s junior partner and my wife's friend all enter, with me of course bringing up the rear and alone. It was just like walking into a classroom, the wife and entourage sat to the left hand side, and I to the right. I don't know if you have seen a film called ‘My Cousin Vinny’ starring Joe Pesci, but there’s a scene in the film where he enters the court room on his own whilst the other team, who are both well-funded and organised, sit on the other. I felt a little bit like that.

The lady judge looks quite elderly, perhaps in her 60’s or even 70’s and doesn’t look up at all, but just scans the paperwork over the top of her glasses in the way that a doctor does. The wife’s lawyer stands and introduces herself as ‘Julia’, a lawyer from ‘Bairstow, Blaggett and Crook’ and states in a no nonsense kind of voice, that she’s acting for my wife. At that moment the judge finally looks across at me. I’m not sure quite what to say, but following the lawyers example I state that I am Simon Brown and that I think I'm the respondent. I wasn't even sure what I was to be honest, I hadn’t looked too closely at the paperwork I'd been sent and was now wishing that I had been better prepared.

I was pretty sure that my wife was the applicant, although I wasn’t quite sure what the word was for my position (though I bet my wife could think of a few!). Julia then stands up and proceeds to talk for around 20-25 minutes. I was very surprised (and actually quite impressed) by her ability to speak non-stop for such a lengthy period. There were a lot of technical terms thrown in, probably on purpose, stuff that I didn't understand at all. Despite the seriousness nature of the moment, I must admit that after about 10 minutes of her monologue, I could feel my mind begin to wander and I started to look out of the window. To be honest I would have rather been anywhere else at that moment than sat in that courtroom. I was in the middle of a rather pleasant daydream when I suddenly realised the whole of the court had fallen silent and everyone was looking at me. Even the judge had now raised her head and was looking directly at me over the top of the glasses. Well it might sound strange, but at that moment I put my hand up for permission to speak; it just felt like a school classroom. The judge tapped her fingers on the desk and spoke as a teacher to her pupil.

Simon there is no need to put your hand up before you speak, just speak freely.

Stating my name and that I was the respondent, I said that although I didn't actually agree with the divorce as such, I wasn't going to contest it.

If two people don't want to be together then they should go their separate ways and find someone that they do want to be with.

I had actually watched a couple of YouTube videos about what to expect at the hearing. The court on the videos was always very modern and informal and absolutely nothing like the set up before me. From watching the videos I had the idea that the majority of divorce cases were sorted out by mediation that the formal authorities can help facilitate, or even by two people just getting together over a cup of coffee and thrashing things out without even the need for lawyers.

It was then that the wife’s lawyer played an absolute blinder. She stood there and announced to the court that my wife was scared of me and wasn't willing to accept any form of mediation. I must tell you that this news came as quite a shock to me. We had at that point been together for 24 years, and in all that time we had never had a serious row of any description, we certainly never had a full-blown argument of any kind and definitely nothing physical.

This was a really cool move by my wife’s lawyer, the lovely Julia. It gave the judge just a hint that there might be something odd about the man sitting before her; that he might not be as innocent and as genial as he first appears. It was top of the champion’s league stuff, pulling something of that calibre out of the hat, almost like the footballer Lionel Messi pulling a fantastic twist and turn in front of goal and then scoring in the top corner.

If this was left unchallenged, it would allow formal proceedings to go ahead at the behest of the lawyer, meaning the possibility of any quick mediation process and agreement (without the need for expensive lawyers) would go out of the window.

It wasn’t the only cool move my wife’s lawyer had up her sleeve. Her next revelation went straight into the back of the net. Apparently, my wife had signed an open ended credit agreement with Bairstow, Blaggett and Crook, meaning an unlimited sum could be spent on divorce proceedings - presumably up to the net value of my house, that could mean £50,000, £100,000 or even £200,000, absolutely crazy sums for a divorce of two ordinary working class people. The lawyer now had a massive financial incentive to draw out this court case as long as she could, with no incentive to actually wrap up an agreement quickly.

Perhaps if I had watched a few more YouTube videos or even read some legal books I would have been better prepared. That move meant a potential 3 months divorce case would end up lasting 3 years and costing over £60,000 in legal fees!!

At this point I'm sitting there thinking I'm totally out of my depth and maybe I should just stand up and walk right out of the courtroom.

Funnily enough I stay put, and as if the judge can read my mind, she calls a recess.

I don't know what the reason is for the break; whether the wife’s lawyer has given an indication that she needs some time, or whether the judge needs to phone home or speak to somebody regarding the case, or whether she just needs to make an appointment at the hairdressers. Whatever the reason, a 10 minutes recess is called -can everyone please go back outside and the usher will call you back in a few moments.

We file out of the courtroom, me last in line again, just like at school, but this time all of the private booths outside the court room are taken. What a shock! The wife's lawyer, the wife, wife’s friend and hand holder actually have to sit outside with the hoi polloi, the riff-raff like me and other such men waiting for their fate to be handed down from on high. The seating area is not very spacious, so I sit in one corner whilst the wife et al, sit at the next table which is only a few metres away. They whisper conspiratorially, heads huddled together like a coven, covering their mouths as they talk to each other, trying to make sure that I can’t hear a word of what they are saying. Despite their best efforts, however I did manage to overhear Julia saying ‘He seems very confident’.

My wife replies ‘Oh yes, he used to be a sales director’ which I thought was quite funny.

I’m not sure what that actually means, perhaps if you’re a sales director then you are naturally confident?

Maybe the wife’s lawyer was meaning I was possibly a cut above the usual victim,