more services delivered to enable women to share post-birth experiences. These are all people who are avidly pushing against a tide of bureaucracy, or the establishment, in their own unique ways, for social things they care about.
I was only 21 and a bit terrified, so I was surprised that my interview for the role of Community Involvement Officer at the Matson Neighbourhood Project went exceptionally well. Already, I could confidently access my passion for the topic and the neighbourhood. I believe that my humble confidence in my ability to do well in the role was a direct result of a childhood spent in the performing arts. And, importantly, a family that offered a strong foundation where we learned about fairness, equity, and kindness.
Andy Jarrett, my soon-to-be-boss, rang to offer me my new job. I tried to play it cool, telling him I’d need time to think about it and I’d call him back. I kept him waiting! My Mum felt the annual salary (£12,500) was not enough for a university graduate. Nevertheless, I had a good feeling. I called Andy back and accepted the post!
I still reflect on my projects at the Matson Neighbourhood Project. The Matson Library, located in the neighbourhood’s centre, is overlooked by semi-detached and terraced Council housing. One exterior wall, adjoining a large green space, was made of exposed brick that looked drab and attracted graffiti. That became one of my first projects. My new colleague, Sarah Payne and her family had a reputation in Gloucester for being community minded. In our spare time, Sarah and I worked together as Director and Choreographer on productions like Aladdin and Me and My Girl through both of our voluntary involvement with the Olympus Theatre. Sarah was a straight-talking, strong woman committed to getting things done. Under her wing was a great place for me to be. And to learn.
The agreed plan was to paint a mural on the external wall. I joined Sarah, who was working collaboratively with the two local primary schools. The proposed mural theme was the local environment. The students, aged between 5 and 10, had been exploring the neighbouring country park, Robinswood Hill, which proudly overlooks Matson and the rest of Gloucester. (Adding to its fame is that the hill was the Gloucester Ski Centre, training home for failed-yet-very-famous ski jumper, Eddie the Eagle.)
The students drew features of the environment seen on their adventures to Robinswood Hill. A local artist then used the children’s individual drawings to create a large mural design that was scaled to the library wall. Then the painting began. The children were not only involved in designing the mural, but they also took turns with painting it! I asked myself, what kind of crazy community involvement workers let the community take full ownership and responsibility? Oh, that’s right … good ones!
Strong visceral memories of that project remain with me. First is the smell of paint, and specifically accompanying Sarah to local paint suppliers to collect donated tins of paint. To honour the children’s design decisions, we had conscientiously selected paint colours, not simply picking up a boot-load of multi-coloured paints. I distinctly remember how exhausting that was. And I learned so much! The mural project was a big, early lesson in the importance of the behind-the-scenes effort required for any successful, creative community engagement project or process.
My second distinct memory of the actual painting process was the rain. It absolutely poured and poured with rain. For days! It was a freezing mid-Autumn in the UK. Nevertheless, the scaffolding was up, and a tightly managed roster of children kept coming and coming, painting their designated area, and then leaving. Sarah, I, and the artist would do necessary touch-ups between class visits or at the end of very long days. (You didn’t think we’d leave it totally in the hands of the community, did you?)
On reflection, this project was a lesson in professionalism. It was not just about having staff. It was about having dedicated staff who gave their all. The community involvement officer had to lead and coordinate, of course! But there was more. So much more! We had to roll up our sleeves, join in, get wet, get cold, and share with children and the wider community the pride of a project well done.
A final memory of this project was about a technical matter that turned out to be crucial to our project’s success. Sarah undertook intensive research into the anti-graffiti paint to be applied as a topcoat over the mural. She must have found something that worked because, decades later, the mural still glows. You can bet that the children who designed and painted it now show it to their children. You can see that in the smiling faces of these children in the press cutting below, local people have an extraordinarily strong sense of pride in this project. I suspect that anti-graffiti paint was never actually required.
The mural kicked off my time at Matson and my career, with great grassroots gusto. But it wasn’t the only project in Matson that fuelled my enthusiasm.
Over the years, Matson had received massive amounts of media coverage from local news outlets, usually for the wrong reasons. Stories of unemployment, crime or other bad news dominated press coverage seriously damaging local pride. Increasing the number and quality of positive news stories about the area was an early challenge of mine, as I sought to achieve higher levels of community involvement and an increased sense of community pride. So, I organised a regular column in the local newspaper, the Gloucester Citizen, and worked with journalists to produce positive news pieces. Another strategy was to create our own newspaper: The Matson News!
I asked myself, how could people get involved in their local community if they didn’t feel connected to it, or if they didn’t even know what was happening? How could they feel a sense of pride if we didn’t share news about the good things that were happening? As eight-year olds, my best friend Laura and I would while away a Saturday afternoon pretending to be magazine publishers, creating our own little photocopied publication called Format 3 . Little did I know that this creative childhood play would provide the skills to bolster the pride of an entire neighbourhood!
It was relatively easy to get The Matson News happening. In the late nineties, we didn’t have desktop computers, so I’d sit in the Neighbourhood Project training room where we had a row of newly installed computers and start laying out ideas using Microsoft Publisher or something similar. The training room adjoined the community general store, managed by the Neighbourhood Project, and I’d often be called on to help monitor the children coming in after school to buy their penny sweets. At first, I saw this as a distraction. Later, I saw it as a great way to connect with local children and their parents.
Often, using local noticeboards, I’d send requests for articles, jokes, quizzes, stories, and more. I’d use existing networks to help me reach people who had content to contribute. I’d include upcoming events, useful phone numbers, and maybe even a word search or a crossword. In the early days, I drove the content of The Matson News, but after a couple of editions, as word spread, increasingly the local community drove the content.
I approached a couple of local businesses for sponsorship to cover the cost of printing, which wasn’t exorbitant for a basic black-and-white, A4, eight-page newsletter. I organised the printing and stapling by another not-for-profit organisation. I remember my excitement at receiving boxes full of something I’d created. But more than that, I was ecstatic to know that so many local people had contributed to the success of the newspaper.
If the planning, design, and production were seamless, the delivery was not so much. We had to deliver The Matson News to 10,000 people! Maybe we ran out of money. I forget. But I do remember being with a very small group of volunteers who were hand-delivering The Matson News to every Matson household.
Nowadays, as a tired and cranky forty-something, I cannot imagine hand delivering thousands of newsletters to households for a client. But this is now and that was then. And twenty-one-year-old enthusiastic Becky, in her first ‘proper’ job, was literally skipping through Matson taking in every sight, sound and smell of this densely populated, urban area of high deprivation. What an experience that was! I learned that the best and fastest way to get to know a community you’re