I cried. I couldn't help myself. I had a follow up appointment with a lawyer. I went to them because I didn't know what else to do.
Today they told me they couldn't help me. They told me to do as the Council says and go into private rented accommodation. Yes, insecure, yes, I'd receive housing benefit for ever more, but the alternative was uprooting my child into a hostel.
I told them about whoever it was that was housed with less points than me a few weeks ago. If I can get a letter from the successful bidder, they said, I would have a case against the council's point system. Where in the world will I find that person?
The Council must be so pleased I've failed here. The law firm wrote to my support worker a couple of months ago to ask how many points I would get under the PRS and to date has had no response.
I haven't seen or heard from support worker since he came round with his manager two months ago. Coincidence?
I was going to blog something about retail therapy next but don't have it in me... down down down... The green shoe, I'll come back to you.
The dog came back Tuesday, I've tried tried tried to let it go, throwing it a stick and then trying to appreciate good things that happen (such as lunch with Milly at her place) but it keeps coming back. May as well stick my head into its black fur. Better than sticking it into an oven.