I've travelled solo before, this wasn't so different to that.
When one of my beautiful best friends got married in Canada, my visa was denied and so instead of moping around at home, I decided to fly to the first place I could find on "cheap flights from Manchester," and ended up in Bordeaux. That was a few years ago now, and I've since visited the French city I love, more times than I can count. 1) it is indeed "cheap flights from Manchester," and 2) I now have a die hard French bestie who happens to be 80 years old and my air bnb host from my original trip - now forever friend with whom I speak and share French, food and wine with.
She's gently named herself Cha-nou-nou pending Baby Barker-Mills arrival, she's far too suave and sophisticated in her elder years to be a grandma, and the woman lives for Chanel, and as such, wanted a cute namesake, not an old lady vibe. Valid. She carries it well.
I digress.
Cue me, meandering through Manchester Airport, little backpack on back, filled with workwear, notepads, a selection of pens (for any occasion), and my magical macbook. Passport clutched in one hand, coffee in the other. Its all very Mrs Barker; if my parents taught me one thing in their privilege, it was how to navigate the airport like a boss and I was giving boss.
A glass of prosecco as is now fundamental to all air travel for me; dutch courage, I proceeded to board my flight to Vienna, close my eyes and listen to playlist my wife had made me for take off - airpods in, noise cancellation on, volume as loud as possible, and as the plane lifted from the runway, I had eyes scrunched, knuckles white, with the Beach Boys "Don't Worry Baby," our wedding song - belting out.
Needless to say, I survived the flight and duly found myself meandering the train system of Austria's capital city with delight. A U-bahn akin to Berlin, a REX, a Flughafen triple decker train running with the efficiency one expects in Europe and is thrilled by as a British citizen used to overpriced, underwhelming, more often than not, cancelled archaic monstrosities - particularly in the North (so if our king of the North would care to turn his hand from Bee buses and to Network Rail, that would be most welcome)
And lo' - hotel found, unpacked, debunked, and snacks bought, I battened down the overwhelmed neurodivergent hatches, closed the curtains, and sat upon my double bed with biscuits, and Disney+ - grateful of the space, as my wife and child now take up the abundance of our bed at home. Between pregnant wife, pregnancy pillow, aging cat - there is little room for me. I expect that shan't change going forward!
My state of emotional overwhelm arriving in Vienna was palpable, still reeling from an identity crisis induced by a less than enjoyable hiring process with an academic institution, my sense of self was somewhat obliterated upon my arrival and still circling my thoughts and feelings, fuelling my imposter syndrome by the second. When I broached the idea of coming to this summit to my wife; she told me immediately "Go! You need a reminder of who you are!" I could feel her frustration at my wallowing in identity questioning and purpose, and yet, she did what she does best - told me to do what I do best. And she won't be surprised to know, but possibly to read - she was right. A wifes perogative I find!
Wednesday came, and I was still discombobulated in my new found country for a few days - lingering at my hotel, unable to gather myself effectively to get out and see the world. But I did. And I found myself wandering the state library, in childlike awe, staring up at wooden bookcases, laden, burdening with literature of time and history, little ladders creeping up their heights like Beauty and the Beast. I found myself in my youth, creeping out of the care system and into white privildge life with new parents identifying abjectly with Belle in beauty and the beast; my parents on paper would often draw disdain at "my head always in a book," escapism even at a young age was welcomed through the pages of imagination and other worlds - it remains so at the age of 39.
So my wonder and joy at this place, this space, was immeasurable and remains so in the abundance of photos, videos and more that I took wandering the halls in Vienna.
I made a friend - this quieted little creature, creeping from hotel, to U-bahn, to tourist incognito, a moment in time with a Mexican beauty - Marianna and what a joy, what a time we had; she too in adolescent wonder at Europes grandeaur and magic, finished off with an Austrian beer or two purveying the gardens adoring the state library in 27c heat. And then to cake - a traditional Viennesse coffee house, strudel for me, of course, and a pink something or other for Marianna, forged friends in moments and life stories, we shared and cared and went our separate ways - she returned to Mexico to the tacos of dreams; and an agreement that Sarah, baby and I will visit and enjoy the best tour of Mexico city one could ask for. The offer for her to come to Manchester perhaps less appealing for all - our tacos are shit.
And so, to Thursday, the big day. Suited and booted in casual attire, suitable for the strange weather of September days in central Europe, circling 22-23c. Unsure as to who, what, where I was about to embark upon. A new part of the city.....
My journey of remembering who I am began.
I approached some ladies, as I had heard their English speaking voices and London aesthetics - "Hi, I'm Fran, I'm here on my own and I don't know anyone, so I thought I would come and introduce yourself and tell you what I do," and I did. And it was met with joyous rapture and an acknowledgement from all in the group that to travel to Austria, to go to a conference, and to introduce myself with such energy and bravery was indeed....brave. The introverted extrovert was living and breathing life.
A kind face I recognise, and a booming slight cockney twang and I turned to see a new found confidant and ally - lovely Caragh. The woman I once referred to as "me living in another timeline," having listened to her "After Prison," podcast and thought "fuck, this is me, this is my life,"
A mirror image, living a few years ahead of me.
A warm embrace like old friends lost, and we were bound in familiarity and friendship from that moment on. And an introduction to her wing woman and prodigé - the lovely Tassie, who henceforth, will be my unoffical work wife - I have run it by Sarah and have approval. What a thing to travel to another country and fall in love with hearts and souls of familiarity - perhaps it's what happens when lived experience worlds collide, our broken and repaired souls find one another. I've come to see this more and more in my life, love and work - that the energy we emit from our passion for change and endless hope that it will come, attracts those like us. Once upon my time, my energy was a magnet for chaos and calamity, cocaine and catastrophe. Now? Well.... these women. No greater reflection of the life I lead now.
And so, the conference began, prison leaders, probation officers, prison officers - day one began and I wondered what my place in that room was.... I don't believe in the "us and them," diatribe. I never have. Not even whilst serving my prison sentence. It made no sense to me. A respect for hierarchy and the punitivism that comes with place, power and purpose but an understanding that regarding my keepers as my enemy served no purpose - not in emotion, energy or ability to heal or move forward.
That much stands true. But I felt it in that room, that the echo of us and them is something that those of us who work in the justice system, have to dance around one way or another, whether we buy into it or not. That said, the overarching and resounding tenet that came from eclectic, eccentric voices from across Europe - whichever side of the justice system we sit on - behind bars, behind desks, behind policies, procedures, our hope is the same, regardless of the path it takes to get there - less offenders, less harm, less victims, less burden = more community, more cohesion. Lord knows we need more of that right now.
Thursday night, I met with lovely Tassie and perhaps even lovelier Nina - for schnitzel. I dare you to say that out of context. But schniztel we did, the three of us, and talk about life, love, family, opportunity, commanility and it was a reminder, that even in the moments where you feel lost, you're always found, if you're walking the right path and Vienna, and this glorious summit, was my right path. For work of course, but to meet these women, in this moment. I had few out of this world moments I'll admit, teetering on fan girl if I'm honest - and it starts with Nina, whose work I've followed, whos ethics I've embedded; she's one of those women in my sphere of influence, whether by the parameters of LinkedIn or indeed now; real life of whom I've looked at and thought - "if i can forge a career like that, I'll know I've achieved what I set out to do," - be it Caragh, or indeed lovely Nina, I was surrounded by women who I've looked at through the lens of social media, academia, and professional profile and thought in my childlike idealism "when I grow up I want to be," and thats not to purport these ladies of power and purpose are older than me, more that my evolution of self, only began at 30, so I'm still in the early stages of discovery of Fran, life, love, puporse and soul.
Friday rolls around and I stride into the summit, caffeinated and excited for the day ahead - a foray of speakers, workshops, dialogue islands - what a joyous concept; and it was - to sit in small circles of commonality, difference, politics, policy, academia, research, sociology and philisophical debate on human nature, criminality, deviance, reform, rehabilitaiton, methods in the madness. To hear of the great and profound work taking place across Europe - and I'll admit, my fury at Brexit was at surface level for the duration because to see and hear such good work, vision, and drive from our European friends, and to know that we are so isolated in our ignorance and island, was all the more compounding our idiocy of Farage fuck wittery and rhetoric. Regardless, I was heartened and healed to hear of the real work taking place - the human work. The absolute centering of humanity in justice, something we've lost, quieted or been too shy to champion for fear of push back, policy, punitive media narrative drives, public backlash and more, and quite literally hidden the good and the light of the criminal justice under our bushel.
Friday became a shining beacon of hope for those front line facing, across prisons, probations and for those of us with our badges of honour - ex prisoners, hope.
Compounded and summarised beautifully by none other - cue fan girling - Professor Alison Liebling, not just a LinkedIn gaze for me here, but a citation, a motivation, a reason to invest my time and passion into a degree in Criminology. When returning home from prison, I wanted to continue the work of understanding criminal deviance - my own, and others. Where does it come from? How is it quieted, ended, and moved on from, built good upon? Is it nature or nurture? And here, the woman who wrote the book on it, literally - one of my core textbooks for my degree talking on a panel about something of paramount and fundemental importance for all of us, not just those of us involved in criminal justice...... moral faith. Not a concept for venturing into theology or Kant-esque wonderings, but one that suggests we live and die by our ability to have just that - moral. Faith.
Professor Liebling went further to summise that we are all in the justice system because it's profoundly human. An openess of statement, that didn't attach any judgement, assumption or other. Just a fact. Either side of the bars. Its human. And if that is not the resounding message I take from the European Justice and Education Leadership Summit; I don't know what is.
My fan girling alas, was not restricted to the summit, it was allowed to roam free at a dinner, where we all relaxed into that humainty and sense of self, with a beautiful meal, shared with what felt like friends, and I do take that sense and feeling home, as I sit and write just one week on. Absolutely, friendships were forged. Is Professor Liebling my new BFF and will I ever call her Alison? Absolutely not, but we shared honesty, and compassion and you guessed it - humanity. And for a woman who has worked with many incarcerated, I imagine the feeling our exchange left me with, is one that stays with many like me. Feeling seen. Feeling heard. Equally. And of value.
And let me tell you. That is what I needed. For a child lost in a system, to become an adult so failed by it, abused and furious at it, to become all that I did, the good, bad and ugly; always seeking external validation, so unable and incapable of sourcing it from within - perhaps Austria went a long way in teaching me that. I have it within. I recognise it more so now than I ever have. My happiness. My purpose. My sense of self. My desire for external validation doesn't exist like it used to, because in fact, what might seem like reassurance and validation from others, is in fact just a reflection of ones own self - a mirror. I started this piece of writing saying that the energy I put out, brings those with similar energy to me. If thats not a huge reassurance my life, hope and heart are in tune and filled with hope and humanity - I don't know what more I could ask for.
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