Following a sleepless night, I topped up my mobile and have put through a call to the King on the housing executive board. Just now infact.
It rang then went onto voicemail. I've told him bidding for the flats in my block closes at noon today. Please could he put calls through to members of the council. The allocations manager knows me, so does needs and access, so does the Chief.
I told him I can't put my son through this again. First notice by his father, then the Church, now this. "Does my child matter at all?"
"You may not be my councillor but you are an executive on the housing committee."
I've told him I'm going to keep calling his mobile until noon today. "I have to do this on behalf of my son."
When I was little I was really annoying. I was reminded of this yesterday as I caught the writing on an old school shirt hanging in my wardrobe:
"Bye & good luck in the future. Who will make a noise for us when you have gone
lots of love Ali xx"
I've got to find the girl I was and be really annoying. Really fucking annoying. It's my son who hangs in the balance here.
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