Shelter

Shelter is my one great and very last hope. I called them yesterday on my return from the other lawyers expecting to sit on the line waiting. But no, straight through. Is that a sign? Shelter was the organisation I was going to give the money to if ever my Book That Will Never Be Published was published. That is until friends said I should keep the money myself, so if it does ever get published (no, I still haven't sent it to he who said he'd publish it) a proceed will go to them, regardless really of whether they help me now or not.

Advice can only be given on the phone with Shelter. He told me to send the documents and he would call me back. Thinking that this would take too long, I told him I'd come to his offices this morning. He said he'd meet me outside, copy them, then phone me later. I found this funny! Ah, to have humour in my life.

He told me to get out at Kensal Rise station, the office was opposite and he would meet me outside. I got out, saw a cafe, The Olive Branch, ordered a double expresso and called him "I'm here!"

While I was sitting outside the cafe with the coffee I'd ordered, smoking a cigarette, and putting together the papers I'd give him, he called and asked me where was I. I'd got out at the wrong exit. Durr.

I ran into the cafe. "Can you look after my coffee for a minute, I just have to run over the road to give a lawyer some papers, and I'll be back!" They agreed! Not something you come to expect in this big city!

Phone to ear, papers in one hand, bottle of water in the other, fag hanging from the mouth, I was still on the phone to him saying "where?" In this state I asked two workmen on the side of the road. "Is this Chamberlayne Road?" while down the receiver I asked "Is it the road with all the buses on it?"

Anyway I found it. I had to go up to a main road and there was the main entrance to the station. I put my fag out (forgot to bring my fag bag tut tut). I could not see a building saying Shelter on it though. Ah, it's above the shop saying 'adoption agency'!

I met my man. He had a friendly laid back demeanour. I gave him my 'Notice Requiring Possession.' I gave him the only piece of evidence I have that states the tenancy with Camden ends in August 1010. I gave him a letter a shrink wrote for me last year that the council ignored, the letter a support worker had written me saying we'd end up in a hostel ("can I have that in writing?" I said at the time) then I told the lawyer that if I didn't get the flat I bid on next week, I would launch a complaint proceeding against the rehousing team. (That's only an idea, don't know how I'll do that at this stage, but step by step when in battle).

I went back to The Olive Branch. They offered to give me a fresh expresso despite my saying I didn't mind drinking it cold. I wish the council would give me an olive branch too.

On the train to Shelter I'd starting thinking that after all, I should write to Gordy. After all, he did say 'homes for everyone' or something to that effect didn't he? Oh I know he'll do nothing about it, just as I knew Blair would do nothing about the one I sent him. But when I wrote to Blair I was scared and desperate. Now, I'm scared and angry. I'll send a copy of the letter I sent Blair in with Brown's. Must think about this letter.

Anyway, outside that caf, fag in gob, I instead drafted another letter I'd email to 'needs and access' (I haven't drafted a damn thing I've written on here for ages, you might be able to tell that). Ran back to retrieve my documents, then came home, emailed 'needs and access', then, and then, don't ask me why, don't, I forwarded that letter to the lawyer (I have his email now)

Fuck!

I hope Shelter helps me with this, for who they are helping is, of course, my son.

I wish me some more luck.