I was naive to believe that events could not get worse after those first few weeks following the 28th June 1988 destruction of my 25 year marriage. At the very beginning I failed to realize that my hellish journey towards the depths of Parental Alienation was a precursor to the true evil that was about to be unleashed on me.
In those first few weeks, after I moved from the Cotswolds to live in London, I tried so hard to overcome the barriers set up to deny my contact of my five children. Each day I phoned my former marital home on the chance that one of my children might pick up the call. For day after day the ring back was dead which signified that the Cottage phone had been unplugged by my ex-wife. Rarely I heard an engaged signal which meant someone was talking on the phone so I constantly redialed in case I could speak to that ‘someone’. But each time after an engaged tone the phone again went dead. Unplugged again from the BT network.
On a few occasions when my call got through it was picked up by my ex-wife who refused to let me speak to my children. It shocked me that her unwillingness to let me talk to my children was so strong. I was reminded of the many dark days in my 25 year marriage when she had angrily exploded over some minor occurrence and subsequently treated me with such abuse.