Search results matching tag 'Brittany'

One Month Protection from Extradition by Asylum Office in Rennes, the Capital of Brittany

SabineKMcNeill — Fri, 10 Dec 2010 08:35:00 GMT

Maurice has left his fingerprints and scruffy photographs in exchange for a document that authorises him asylum in France and protection for one month, with instructions for automatic extensions while Paris examines Maurice's plethora of paperwork, as proof of a "conspiracy" or collaboration between South Wales Police and "HM Partnership".

He told them the two main reasons why he is very frightened:

the license to kill that was leaked after his 12 weeks in the psychiatric prison, Caswell Clinic, Bridgend
the medical records fabricated such that he would be locked away for good for "psychiatric" (brain tumour) reasons; he's been fighting to get the evidence ever since his surgeons have asked for them to operate on his hip. Professor Roger Wood, of Swansea University, frantically re-wrote and back-dated his major documents in this conspiracy, while Dr Tegwyn Williams seems to have preferred the shredder.

In summary, here are Maurice's grievances:

Between June 8 and June 22, 2009, he was 'free' from MAPPA surveillance (Multi-Agency Public Protection Arrangement) level 3 (terrorist), so that South Wales Police could 'kill him lawfully'

During the twelve weeks he spent in Caswell Clinic, its Director Dr Tegwyn Williams produced a third medical report, the first without examining him, with the intention of getting him locked up for life in Broadmoor, IPP (Imprisonment for Public Protection) stating "significant brain damage" on the last page
The charge was possession of a machine gun, even though it was decommissioned; Maurice had displayed it at Farnborough Air Show and sold it over a year earlier. The fact that the new owner got it to work, can hardly be held against him!
The 40-page judgement in his current civil action against South Wales Police gives him clearance now to sue South Wales Police for 18 years of malicious prosecutions, harassment and false imprisonments, but primarily, their faillure to investigate crimes. However, the 'executive summary' of MAPPA meetings that was ordered to be released, also, is a 'summary of summaries' rather than an 'executive summary' of each monthly meeting that took place at Dr. Williams' Clinic, from July until 17th December 2009, frantic to hide the identity of those aware of of the falsified medical records that caused ten judges to refuse him bail. See Maurice's comments on the executive summary.

For more details or well wishing, please phone him on his English mobile 0790 793 7953 before he remembers where he hid that special bottle of Margaux, for a rainy day.

Long term reflections from Asylum in Brittany

SabineKMcNeill — Sat, 06 Nov 2010 21:41:00 GMT

Obviously, an application for asylum has got to be done in French.

But in case you want to know what it means, here's the English text of the request sent.

It's actually quite simple: you just supply some proof of being persecuted and we think that this website does the job.

The terrible loss of Suzon Forscey-Moore whose funeral Maurice could not attend this week, for fear of arrest and jail before reaching Cambridge, was a timely reminder as to what may ly behind the current 'ratcheting up' of police oppression in South Wales.

Suzon was approached by Maurice, many years ago, for her interpretation of the apparent anomilies in the 1844 RCVS Charter and its subsequent replacements. Maurice believes the latest version is clearly in breach of the 1998 Human Rights Act and contrary to current European legislation. Suzon wrote this marvellous legal document as a 'Friend of the Court'.

'In house' lawyers for the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons should have made it clear, very clearto Maurice, that at the commencement of legal proceedings against a member of the veterinary profession, in 2002, the 1967 Royal Charter granted the College and its agents, 'out house' lawyers, (literally), full immunity to either civil or criminal prosecution in any UK court proceedings.

Likewise, the South Wales Police, the complainant giving evidence on oath at the RCVS court, were also granted immunity, when giving false evidence, by The Memorandum of Understanding between The Association of Police Constables and the Law Society.

Her Majesty's Judicial Committee has done EXACTLY what the College has done each year, since 2006 by refusing for a court to convene. The clerk in the Supreme Court building, Parliament Square, just as with the RCVS single member of their 'in house' jury, has refused Maurice's June 2010 (see photo gallery) application to their Lordships to intervene, Maurice dependant on the terms laid down in the 1966 Veterinary Surgeons Act.

Why, you may ask, are the RCVS so desperate not to allow Maurice ever to practice veterinary surgery again?

Maurice took the precautionary step, to see what support he had within his father's and wife's profession, by standing for election to college council, just before Their Lordship's dismissed his appeal.

Should Maurice be re-instated, both camps of lawyers believe there is a very real risk of him being voted on to Council which will give him automatic access, at last, to the contemporaneous record of the years of expensive enquiry made by both College staff and Penningtons, solicitors of Gutter Street London.

The Information Commissioner's Office, ICO, has flatly refused to reveal the College's excuse for withholding the information gathered for the trial, asked for under Article 6, ECHR, before 2002 proceedings before his HM Privy Council 2004 Appeal, in Downing Street and each year since, in his Royal Courts of Justice Judicial Review applications.

Asylum details will follow shortly. Meanwhile, he has appealed the clerk's refusal.to place the grievance in open court.

When I'm 64 there must be a Party! Bastille Week in Brittany...

SabineKMcNeill — Sat, 25 Sep 2010 16:37:00 GMT

To my dear old friends of Guernsey, old clients and those who quietly kick against the pricks!

A party for you all

On condition you tip off my soul mates of Alderney ..... and that bunch of ‘ragged dissidents' of Jersey, too many to mention!

We are to drink a toast to Gerald and Yvonne Gillow.

Ah, the party. It will commence in Brittany for Bastille week

Details shortly on this web site unless my old faithful secretary in the Vale tips you off first.

When I'm 64 there must be a Party! Bastille Week in Brittany...

There will be ‘knees up' for friends, wives and children, known and unknown, of the last 60 odd years.

Come, all of you and relax in France, eat oysters and sip a good Chablis and sing a Beatles song...... those of Mountlands School (1948-51), Taunton School (1951-63), those I met canoeing down Danube, Rhine and across English Channel (1963), Bristol University (1963-1969) [I am eligible for 3 years of annual graduation parties], the vet's first peddle car team, Royal Air Force, Bristol University Air Squadron (1963.... to infinity), those I met hitching around 8000 miles of USA and Canada on £5, around Australia, New Guinea and NZ in '67, parachuting friends across Europe, mountaineering comrades in Snowden, Lake District and French Alps.

Bridport, Dorset, clients and friends (1969-70), Taunton, Somerset, clients and family friends (1937- to infinity), pilots on my CPL course at Kidlington, Oxford (1977), flying instructor's course, Goodwood (1977), ATPL course, London (1978), shooting, fox hunting, duck shooting and flying friends of Eire and Northern Ireland especially Michael's friends, from all over France while I was buying ‘real aircraft' (1970- until now), friends from seven British prisons, Alderney, the whole island is invited, especially those who helped me load all those brandy bottles on Town Beach and my special friends and voters of Guernsey who stuck with me for those 10 miserable years.

South Wales.....my old clients and those who backed me, pilot friends and the honest few I met in court and police stations....be there, frilly knickers and all!

My friends between Haverford West, West Wales and Sydney, Australia in the 2001 London to Sydney Air Race to that ‘coat hanger' bridge where those police helicopters surrounded me for, for some reason?

AND those I met in around New Zealand Air Race, ‘flyabout' around Aussie, from Darwin, Australia to Japan1 Oh, special memories of Saba Flying Club, Borneo, Taiwan Flying Club, South Korea and magic people of Hokkaido, Japan while I waited for a 30 knot tail wind at 12,000ft...please all come, not forgetting a special chap from Japan's CAA {CAB}.

USA boys and girls! Florida, Maine! Too many to count....And all those I met on flight from Sun ‘n Fun to New Orleans jazz {"Steamboat Willie BE THERE"} and on around Texas with Jo in NW with tool box!

And especially that lovely Deputy Police Officer who drove me in handcuffs, around 100 miles, from Waco Prison to Texas State Lunatic Asylum for certification...be there, family and all. And let us not forget my friends of St Vra et environs de Bretagne.

Venue

Bastille week 09.... 11th July to 19^th July (or until the wine runs out) at ‘Le Puits aux Papillions', St Doha, Merdrignac, Brittany 22230, France. (Runway big enough for a real aircraft).

Accommodation

..... hotels, caravan , a boat, 4 cottages in various states of disrepair, a house, tents or ‘a la belle etoille'!

Transport

Flights to Dinard, St Brieuc and Rennes, vessels to Roscoff and St Malo, trains to St Malo or Rennes....I will organise pick up by bike, motor bike, sailing boat or aircraft.... even a car!

WATCH THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES AS I NEED TO KNOW NUMBERS FOR CATERING AND BEDS!

Just bring a tooth brush!

About Maurice Kirk

Maurice was born 12th March1945, a war baby, in Taunton, Somerset, West of England, within a final family of four brothers and one sister while mother and father were working 24/7 to run a country veterinary practice. Country pursuits very much dominated his spare time from most sports with his passion still for hunting , shooting and fishing! Maurice is currently trying to fly to South Africa in his WW2 Piper Cub,registration G-KURK. His other D-Day Cub, G-KERK, is destined, on skis, for a rather taller mountain after his promise to Sir Edmond, six years ago. Meanwhile, the task of obtaining justice in the UK courts, in order to practice veterinary surgery, is proving to be somewhat elusive. Authority has quite another agenda.

Bastille Week Party When I'm 64 !!

Maurice — Sat, 31 Jan 2009 09:59:00 GMT

When I'm 64 there must be a Kirk Family Party! Bastille Week in Brittany ,,,,,,,

There will be ‘knees up' for old friends, wives and children, known and unknown, of the last 60 odd years.

Come, all of you and relax in France, eat Breton oysters and sip a good french Chablis or a clilled Gros Plant and sing the Beatles song...... those of Mountlands School (1948-51), Taunton School, (1951-63), those I met canoeing down Danube, Rhine and across English Channel (1963), Bristol University (1963-1969) [I am eligible for 3 years of annual graduation parties], the vet's first peddle car team, Royal Air Force, Bristol University Air Squadron (1963.... to infinity), those I met hitching around 9000 miles of USA and Canada on £5 (1964), around Australia, New Guinea and NZ in '67, parachuting friends across Europe, mountaineering comrades in Snowden, Lake District and French Alps.

Bridport, Dorset, clients and friends (1969-70), Taunton, Somerset, clients and family friends (1937- to infinity), pilots on my CPL course at Kidlington, Oxford (1977), flying instructor's course, Goodwood, (1977), ATPL course, London (1978), shooting, fox hunting, duck shooting and flying friends of Eire and Northern Ireland especially Michael's friends, from all over France while I was buying ‘real aircraft' (1970- until now), friends from seven British prisons, Alderney, the whole island is invited, especially those who helped me load all those brandy bottles on Town Beach into my rotting £65 Shearwater 111 cat and my special friends and voters of Guernsey who stuck with me for those 10 miserable years.

South Wales.....my old clients and those who backed me, pilot friends and the honest few I met in court and police stations....be there, frilly knickers, helmets and all!

AND those I met in around New Zealand Air Race, ‘flyabout' around Aussie, from Darwin, Australia to Japan1 Oh, special memories of Saba Flying Club, Borneo, Taiwan Flying Club, South Korea and magic people of Hokkaido, Japan while I waited for a 30 knot tail wind at 12,000ft for tghec 20 hour flight to Alaska...please all welcome, not forgetting a special chap from Japan's CAA {CAB}.

Venue

Bastille Week 09.... 11th July to 19^th July (or until the wine runs out) at ‘Le Puits aux Papillons', St Doha, Merdrignac, Brittany 22230, France. (Runway big enough for a real aircraft). see you tube clips

ILS on 36R 200m, "going, good to soft", 60 ft trees both ends and suggest ask the famer, Pierre Marie, to move the cows first if multi engine or jet propelled aircraft are being considered.

I will sort Customs, military Mirage Aircraft v low fly zone and the local 'chasse les sangliers'.....too early pour les fugis mais sera, peut-etre, les autres pour fume. .

Accommodation

..... Hotels, B and Bs, caravan, a boat, 4 cottages in various states of disrepair, a house, tents or ‘a' la belle etoille'!

Transport

Flights to Dinard, St Brieuc and Rennes, vessels to Roscoff and St Malo, trains to St Malo or Rennes....I will organise pick up by bike, motor bike, sailing boat or aircraft.... even a car!

I NEED TO KNOW NUMBERS IF YOU ARE YOU DROPPING IN FOR CATERING AND BEDS!

WATCH THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES ....plans etc

Just bring a tooth brush! RSVP

CONTACT

UK: Tel +441446792109 UK Fax +441446796828 Brittany: tel +33296284741 Cell +447966523940 maurice@kirkflyingvet.com http://www.wacl.org.uk/

Brittany Break from RCVS Debacle

Maurice — Mon, 11 Aug 2008 03:29:00 GMT

A few days in Brittany while the RCVS appear to continue to delay my 6th application to be allowed to practice veterinary surgery. Having sorted out holiday makers in the cottages we are then off to the coast for a swim and collect oysters and boulot? off the beach. Then it was on to Lamballe to the spectacular horse show in the pouring rain. The resident comic was towed at speed in Cossack dress behind a very fast pony on his skis while the chariots of yester year sprayed us with mud in their flurry around the arena pulled by beatifully tacked out horses. The dancing horse on the piano and 5 Bretons on a string will never be forgotten.

Then, to incredible live music in the town square, the usual meal of local moule followed by wild boar, off the spit, washed down with Breton cider and a little Calva.

Next day, following a quiet word in the village auberge, while out on the ‘61 Enfield morcycle, we track down, deep in the country lanes, the ultimate transport for the district, a ‘61 Citroen Deux Cheveaux. She was all covered in dust in the barn with the chickens, she having not seen the road for at least a decade......all we need now is a name for her?

Tomorrow I fly with the CAA .....but that is another story

Happy Days!

Kirstie — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 04:23:00 GMT

Hello

M is feeling much better and has sped off to Brittany on his motorbike. Or that was the unlikely story which went along the lines of: need to sort out accounts, the garden the cottage etc., etc.

M obviously became bored v quickly as accounts, gardening, sorting out the cottage are not really his things and so it was no surprise to learn that he is now actually in the South, enjoying weather (good), food (v good), wine (even better). He sounds quite cheerful when we speak via telephone.

So many people ask me why I don't seem to mind his taking so many holidays, enjoying so many trips...

Suffice to say that while the cat is away this time, Gen and I have found her a new pony and M is too far away to object or censor. She will be installed by his return and, as he can't now fly over our fields to do a head count, he won't even know that she's here (until we choose a suitable moment to tell him). My mare has gone away to stud and Morgan's horse will be in the stable just starting work (which means that M's car will be out of the stable).

Happy days.

KK (M's wife)

Maurice Arrives in France

Maurice — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 22:47:00 GMT

Just landed at St Malo harbour, Brittany, from Portsmouth on my Honda CBR 1000F to find my old car in the car park has disappeared. The French Authorities tolerate we local English leaving ‘old bangers' at the Ferry Terminal but not for this long!

My un-planned extended stay in Texas, at ‘Uncle Sam's Pleasure', has lost me not just my flying licence, but now my cut away speed model Ford Orion motor car. Talking of the CAA they have sent me some more ‘official info' from the US that reads like an Enyd Blyton children's book. Apparently it states I radioed McGregor Airport with some nonsense message about visiting a Mr Bush by aircraft. No such thing ever happened as the US Authorities very well know having all the evidence to suggest no transmission was ever made, whether by VHF Radio or ‘C' mode Transponder, while I was flying around Texas. As for the GPS they took off me and will not return, that stayed in my kit bag switched off all the way to Crawford.

I also now have a document quoting the McClellan County Police that I was 'not arrested' at the scene nor had I committed any civil or criminal offence. As I said to the boss of the legal department of Air Crew Licencing, in London, "If I had been in charge of air safety anywhere in the world with the information just sent across the ‘pond' from the US I would have marched the culprit pilot directly to Broadmoor (the UK's secure mental hospital) and thrown away the key".

Anyway it may take me years to fight through the courts so here I am looking frantically for a French ‘abinitio' pilot's licence pretty damn quick but where do I learn to fly French style and learn the lingo? Thierry of Air Journey has already found me a friend, François SIEGEL in Paris to possibly expedite the problem.

This old motor bike, resting in the long grass, once our front lawn, is supposed to get me to the South of France tomorrow but am I not getting a bit too arthritic for just a lumpy beast? As I mount her it reminds me of the French aristocracy being winched on to their jousting horses in their heavy suits of armour for the battle of Agincourt!

A Quiet Day in Brittany

Maurice — Mon, 04 Apr 2005 05:29:00 GMT

Breed of cow down the road?

I drop gen off to try 2 daysof school.....loved it!

George, a Jersey equivalent to why the "Toilers of the Sea "chappie suffered 16 years in Guernsey, mentions a caravan to go.

Bought in minutes, blind, we are round in the "rope guided ford", rather like a camel, to tow her to the lake.

Fishing holidays for houses and caravan advertised now on site within hours of purchase .

Due at court in Loudeac for 2pm but our extended lunch of sea food, the likes I have never seen before, despite my experience, took precident over the eviction of a tenant ,squatting in a shack, next to the lake.

But I still went to Court just to see how it compared. Same old devious games by advocates.... designed just like your typical British Court ...no one in the public gallery can hear a damned thing....perish the thought if they did!

Barbeque is called for..... being first to buy charcoal at the local store this year and loaded with fat legs of fresh "poulet" and belly pork, a few bottles of locally made cider and we are off. I amuse Gen by calling over the first Cuckoo not realising my calls,mainly for stalking pigeon with a rifle, caused a plague, or equiv.word, of at least 4 or 5 Tawny owls screaching for the rest of the night,,,,fantastic!

Up at 7 to catch the boat and our horses have arrived. for next season's hunting. To think, we leave all this wild life around us just to go back to Wales and a world of bent lawyers, before Vietnam by cub.......it needed little for me to stay!

A 2nd Day in Brittany

Maurice — Wed, 23 Mar 2005 06:14:00 GMT

Well, as if running out of excuses, I think I have at last found the perfect spot to write those four books on four quite different subjects.

Imagine, just a quiet Brittany country lane outside your door that only runs a few hundred yards to a farm and the great ten mile forest of Hardonnais. Across the road is my large fishing lake stocked with Brochet, 2 feet long or more, gurt Tench, great Crucean and Mirror Carp and many others? The field behind, tucked between forest and wood that will take a twin, for sure, Mike’s sideways and the farmer is already looking after hunters for the locals as the Breton hunt, great curly horns and all ,meet right here.

Now the house is just post war with an enormous ‘cave’ beneath to store the wine and cider still (alambique et distillerie) or four cars, if you are that way inclined. The outhouses hide further accommodation for at least six or eight for fishing/shooting/fox hunting holidays and a cider press, a bit dilapidated. A job for Dad, next time he’s out here. Of course there is a well of water tasting like nectar, a pigeon loft, numerous apple trees, large garden, ancient old trees on all sides and the ancient bread oven, all on its own, in the field.

Down the road is a steady supply of pork and beef from a ‘Porc Blanc de Ouest’ prize winning herd, wild boar and deer from the forest, all sorts of vegetables from the farms around with an auberge on all points of the compass, varying from the strictly local culinary delights, to the Breton array of fish and crustacea, the coast being only forty minutes away. But what is this breed of cattle doing, living here, so far from the Switzerland, if not winning nearly all the prizes in Europe?

Lunch at Madeleine Hotel for 9.5 Euros, including an hors d’oeuvre of fish pate, a scrumptious steak, cooked French style, to follow then with a wide selection of cheeses, gave little room left for my bottle of wine, all included and a pudding of apple tart from just under the grill. I finished off with the standard black coffee, a French cigar and chatted with the locals who seemed to know, already, Wales played rugby.

Ah yes, ‘Le Rugby’. I just had to be down to the Irish Pub at Langourla to support Wales’s chance to get ‘that damned illusive Grand Slam’. Then, if that was not noisy enough, it was drinks with the neighbours and then off to ‘Couscous’ in the village hall where there must have been nearly two hundred locals with kids running round and under the dinner tables, singing, dancing (properly) and enjoying the company over a glass or two. Back to the Irish Night where I was caught on camera wearing the WRONG HAT, in between the dances. 2 am and it is time for home to a small ‘calva’ and my lovely log fire ‘incerre’ in the cottage.

But enough of this, it is time my pre flight diet came into force of abstinence as the flying, from now on, is going to be a damned sight harder than the little doodle around the Antipodes.

A Day in Brittany

Maurice — Wed, 23 Mar 2005 06:00:00 GMT

Awake at six from the ship’s horn as we enter St Malo harbour in the thickest of fog. I lug my baggage round to a back street to find my aging Ford automatic, literally dumped there as we had dashed on to Caen after last weeks birthday festivities.

There’s a problem. The accelerator cable has broken and I am in a hurry to meet Albert about buying a fishing lake. Boy Scout initiative is called for - a piece of fencing wire strategically moulded to fit the carburettor levers, a piece of bright green rope threaded through the window and I am airborne. I set track for Dinan Aerodrome where I am ordered to give a talk, once I have mastered the language! I thought pilots in Europe had to be conversant with English to obtain a flying licence? So I put down, again, to the Battle of Crecy or Poitiers perhaps, as they obviously want to get their own back!

Smash, crash! Who put the lights out? Twenty kilometres down the road and the bonnet flies up, cracking the windscreen in several places and totally obscuring my view. Earlier, in the suburbs of St Vran, my wire lever system on the throttle linkage had snagged (engine failure RAF chipmunk checks?) on the under side of the bonnet causing the engine to be stuck on full throttle. Driving on the key worked for a while but I later decided to raise the bonnet 4 inches and to just drive on the safety catch. With much aplomb, I again screeched to a halt, rectified the matter by lashing down the crumpled metal with more rope and screamed away, before I attracted undue interest.

Aeroclub de Dinan was an old stomping ground in the 70s as a staging post for export of my elegant French ladies. Ah, the memories of each passionate relationship together, travelling up from deep down south to cross the English travel, trying to avoid all adversity, they being scantily dressed for the Bureau Veritas, let alone the CAA with their demand for forests of paperwork. Since when did a piece of paper improve an old girl’s performance? Was it safe enough for one flight, that’s what mattered? The former had warned me, if they caught me, it would be ‘les menottes et le prison (red wine with lunch)’. Both authorities, rumour has it, put their heads together and conspired. Both falsification of evidence and a blackmailed witness caused my Egon Ronay’s Guide on the culinary delights to be experienced of no less than 6 UK prisons in 6 months, for which I am still very, very bitter.

Francis, the chief pilot, with his four month Yorkshire Terrier greeted me with his usual ‘French actor’ English and posed for the photo before showing me round the old Armee de L’air Fouga Magister CM170 with the characteristic Beech Bonanza tail.

Later, down at the lake near Merdrignac, surveying the fishing potential, I swore I heard a hunting horn and hounds speaking. The farmer soon confirmed they were hunting ‘le renard en chevaux’, a subject currently under threat in England, should a self centred power crazy government be re elected in a few weeks. Sadly they had ‘gone on’ by the time I had trekked through the forest with its incredible flora, deer and wild boar.

Back with ‘le notaire’ and Albert, sorting out the lake, the latter told us of his trip,in 1945 in a wooden Jodel low wing monoplane, made just up the road at Dinard. They were flying 10 to 15 feet along the breaking waves, as one does, but along the Utah and Omaha beaches of the June 6th 1944 D-Day landings. All of a sudden an enormous explosion and a great water spout blew up in front of them causing the pilot to pull hard right on the joy stick, as it was called in those days, to avoid certain catastophe. The army and French navy were still clearing the battle scarred beaches and sea of mines and were destroying them under ‘controlled’ explosions!

At 6pm in my village, I was collared by Eugene from outside his bar, whilst I was trying to get a photo of the kids and ‘Le Tricolore’, flying outside the Mayor’s Parlour to help load thirty 50kg bags of phosphate fertilizer that has now crippled me for a while due to my 8 broken or seriously damaged joints. In consolation though I was, at least, rewarded in the bar with a generous serving of Ricard! Then it was the little village of Laurenan for supper and so to bed.