My son taken of Child in Need register

"People have to understand we're not the Gestapo."

So said the social worker as my son was taken off the Child in Need register and the spotlight taken off me.

At. Fucking. Last.

I told the two social workers that nothing had been done to help my child and I except putting more stress on me. I'd been accused of being the cause of my son's anxiety and blackmailed and made to feel like an unfit mother.

They accepted what I was saying and when I expressed my fears that we would face eviction again in two years (can you believe I started this blog two years before the previous 'warning' and lost lost lost) said I could contact them and self refer back to the social services should that happen but they'd had reassurance from my housing officer it wouldn't.

"I'm afraid of contacting you," I said. "Everyone knows now I can't handle the stress and fear of eviction, so what? The next time the social services will just go ahead and put my son on the Child Protection Register and declare me unfit to take care of him instead of seeing it's the system doing this to us?"

They wanted to minimise the stress on families, they said. It was difficult, so difficult now, they couldn't change housing policy, things are getting worse.. All things I know, they know I know. They weren't really interested to take the conversation down that housing route, and nor was I.

The social workers repeated that it was not in their remit to take a child away from the parent and they had to find ways to minimise the fear parents had about that.

My son has never been a Child in Need of support because of me. He was a child in need of support because of what was happening to both of us. I am glad the light has been taken off me at last and thanks to my boy, under positive circumstances.

The deputy head had started the meeting you see, saying he was way above the year 3 average in many of his subjects. A 4c in reading - year 6 level she said. 3b in literacy, 3a in maths - year 5. I was quite blown away by that and want him to stay in the school if they encourage him to that level. I want him in a school that encourages and challenges him.

Bullying was not mentioned. Messy affair ey...but since I spoke to my son's teacher, mentioning to her that she had allegedly said I contribute to my son's anxiety... the boy who had been strangling my son has stopped. I'd like to say the school dealt with that but in truth I think I did. That time I did. I had to. The bullying has stopped. Phew.

Year 3, a tumultous year for my boy. The eviction which saw him isolate himself at school, not helped by me. Sorting that out, then trying to form bridges with his friend A's mother and Ugly coming along and kicking off all the shit once more.

He's doing well at school, I heard this morning. A strong group of friends, the deputy told the social worker.

You know, I'm not a bad mother; I'm not a great one but I'm not unfit to be one. My child is a beautiful child and very ordinary in his amazing extraordinaryish way.

I leave this post and quite possibly the label about social workers with the letter my son and his classmates had to write to their new year 4 teacher as homework this week.

Heart in my throat, I wish him so much luck that it's an easier, more enjoyable, more confidence building time for him and that his friendships go from strength to strength. Against so many odds and a couple of unkind parents he has made his peer relationships work and I do thank his school for that. I love my son so much more than I can ever convey to you.

Dear New Year 4 Teacher,
I am a boy who is a bit mischervous but quite clever. I am good at times tables and big writing and I really like history and science. I am looking forward to year 4 because it is a new class, new projects, new nearly every thing. The project I want to do the most is world war 2. I think rationing will be cool learning and lots of fun.
Yours sincerely
[Stigmum's boy]

A social visit?

My son has a new social worker who is coming round this afternoon.

It has been a long time since the last visit and this new guy inferred on the phone that maybe my son and I didn't need the social services any longer.

There's a fair chance my Child In Need won't be a Child In Need by tonight.

That's good!

Is it good?

I like this flat. If I didn't like this flat, I'd want the social services to help us get out of it. I want to be out of the financial rent horror and temporary leases but I don't want to be out of this flat. Or maybe I do - it's phenomenally expensive to run. Sure, the heating's off now, but come a whiff of cold weather, my walls are made of paper.

Anyway, I've clearly woken up quite low today. I've got a picnic to organise, I should be excited!

I've a flat to tidy...

I can't be arsed. Or rather, there's other things I need to do.

My son is on the social worker's register because I am a messy person. I'm 'harming' him by forcing him to live in my clutter.

Oh flip

I'll tell him if he can't help us with housing, he can't help us at all.

My son will be off their books as a Child In Need.

2013

That's the next eviction if rent arrears don't see us out first.

My son will be off their books as a Child In Need.

Because the social services have always been about me not him and I'm doing fine.

Thank you.

Doing a Ken Clarke

I didn't watch the Budget on Wednesday but I saw the footage and also media pics of Ken Clarke having a snooze during Osborne's address.

Last night I fell asleep watching Question Time.

Well. I hardly blame myself, or Ken really. Don't we know the Tory line is to help the rich get richer and poor get poorer? Ken's heard it all before and I'm simply exhausted by my own fury.

It's happened alot since I moved to the Attic Flat following the trauma of eviction. I fall asleep at the beginning of Question Time and wake up at the end of This Week. Every week. What does that mean?! (Thank f*^% it's Friday?!)

It's almost like I can't deal with our politics anymore despite my desire to.

I might comment on housing next week yeah?

Oh Ok, help for first time buyers all very well but what about help for those who don't have the readdies?

At the Housing Strategy meeting last week, Stategy (formerly Needs) asked me if I'd thought about Shared Ownership.

"I don't have a job," I said and she sighed "oh".
"I'm also not convinced what I think about it," I continued. "I'm worried I'd end up paying out more. I'd rather rent all or own all but not half and half."

She didn't say anything to that.

But she did say I should get my son to bid for me when I said I found the bidding for a flat process too depressing.

I said "I wish but the social services would have something to say about that."

How we giggle at what's not funny!

I wasn't the one laughing.

March March March March March March March March

Channel anger in constructive positive ways I say

Now I may Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzen

Close my eyes

Imagine

Pouring one's heart out

I finally poured my heart out to a mum at school today
My son, my sun, my son my sun
Her son the same, similar
it turns out
I hope I didn't upset her
as I bitched
not my nature
to bitch
and rage
about people
parents
but it felt good
to talk
My son
My sun
My boy
My joy
Thank you mum who let me pour out my heart at school today

A gift from the homeless persons unit

My support worker rang yesterday saying the homeless unit had come into some charitable funds allowing families to purchase things they need from an Argos catalogue!

Oh wow! A bookcase please! To get stuff off the floor!

I'd have got that myself by now but the small one in my bedroom was heavy for me to carry back on the bike.

I might be getting a desk too, to put this laptop on, so I don't have to sit on the floor!

I asked for a desk and chair for my son for his bedroom.

How lucky is that? How so so lucky. A balm after the social services meeting the day before, which incidently, my support worker felt "went really well".

Really? How?

I guess it goes well for everyone except for me, doesn't it? After all I'm the one who doesn't get what she wants out of it.

No can't say that. I'm getting a little bit of furniture aren't I?

I cheekily asked for a rug.

"For the living room?" support worker asked. "I'll pick a nice one out for you!"

"Thank you!"

I won't know for ages, apparently, what out of my mini list I'll get, but given that it was surprise, it doesn't matter!

Take support from all sources

It is comforting the number of people who have got angry on my behalf at my child being labelled a 'child in need'.

I will accept what the social services tell me to do because I have little choice. One hopes they have mine and my son's best interests at heart but one never knows. Their job is to tick boxes and on one level I can't believe they are putting their resources towards me and my son when there are children out there who are in grave danger or who are being abused, and the imminent cuts to social services budgets will leave many more of these children and also vulnerable families without any support whatsover.

Still, if the social services can help us with housing, which they say they can't.. oh stigs, shall we just drop it now?

There are some forces that we can neither ignore, control nor even predict with any great degree of reliability. How then, do we protect ourselves from the intensity of their impact? By a combination of common sense and carelessness. First we must envisage every possible problem and do what we can to avoid it. Then, before we drive ourselves into a frenzy of anxiety, we must decide that having duly worried, we should worry no more and may as well relax. It's time, now, to be decisive and clear.

Cainer this morning!
I emailed a charity last night. I hope they respond.
Now I'll rattle off a few more emails then take a break for lunch.

My son is still a "Child in Need"

There was a meeting at my son's school yesterday to ascertain whether my son was still a "Child in Need". The last time we all met was just before my son and I were being evicted and they determined then that my child was one in need, and yes, I'd have agreed, in need of a home.
At that meeting they agreed I should be presented to the mental health services for counselling.

That was then. The social services hadn't been able to help us. This is now; two bedroom flat, fairly settled, all things improving, you can let us go, concentrate on another child who perhaps isn't as fortunate as mine.

They swooped on my mental health and the impact this was having on my child.
"It's not as bad now," I was saying. "The eviction was traumatic, as it would be for anybody, we're not being evicted now."

They said there'd been a recommendation that I talk to the mental health services, had I done this.
"Yes," I said. "I'm on the waiting list."

Where? How long waiting? Wouldn't it be better to try for some psychotherapy instead of or ontop of counselling? Geeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeez

"It's the mental services, it can take a while, it's fine. It's not like I've got a huge tumour inside me and waiting is going to kill me..."

Do you know, at one point I had to tell the room "I am stable you know" and they laughed, nervously because yes, they were going too fucking far trying to portray me as some kind of unhinged mother. "We want to help you, we're here to help you."

I have support, I told them, I have friends, my son has friends who come to play, life is better now. They want everything though, everything, barely considering that we moved recently. Imagine it had been Kilburn; imagine my son would've had to change school, at least I still see people of my old community. Not enough though.

They said my son would remain on their books "for the time being".

As if to qualify this, they said I was anxious. "We can see you displaying signs of anxiety now!"

I was speechless. I could only half smile like some dumb, dumb what? Dumb me I guess.

D'you know what? I'm actually enraged by the whole meeting. The more I think about it, the angrier I'm feeling.
Why?
Why?
Will they genuinely help us? They decided that housing made no difference to my mental health.
It's easier to think that isn't it?
I asked them if they'd take our case to the exceptions panel, to get more points. I wonder if they heard me?
It's not the system that beats me down, of course not
But it is me who puts my son at risk

It is you who puts your child at risk

It's shocking what you learn down here.

"Once you're on their books, they'll get you for anything"

"Right, let's talk about how (the child's) doing at school," said the social worker. Not my son's social worker - no, he's a student, it was the manager.

I smiled at the deputy. She's been in this meeting with me before.

"I spoke to (the child's) teacher who said he had said "I want to make my mummy happy."

Pause.

What's wrong with that? There's something wrong with that?

"Let's just check his academic record first," said Social Worker Manager and Deputy took up the relevant papers.
"His attendance is 96.6%...Lateness...lateness..let's see, no, he's never been late." I was abit surprised about that to be honest, we do tend to make it in on the bell, not before it...
"He is doing very well academically, he's above average for literacy, science and numeracy. He's playing well with his friends, he's not isolating himself anymore, his teacher said there's been a marked improvement since December."
She looked at me and I nodded. That eviction wasn't easy but I'm back now! I said without saying.

"He's still displaying signs of anxiety, for example he cried when he forgot his book bag."

Pause.

She then spoke of an "incident" recently, she "didn't know too much about it" but "the teacher feels.."the situation was made worse for (the child) because Sue placed all her anxiety about the outcome onto her son.."

WHAT? Reel, reel, reel, reel, back.

"I know the incident you're talking about," I said a bit later, when I had the chance to defend myself. "A parent devastated my child and I didn't know who to turn to so I turned to the school."

Support, of which I now believed to have none, came from an unlikely source. My son's art therapist, the woman who hears him slag me off since I told my son he could do that with her.

"Listening to all this," she said, having been witness to the all the housing chat aswell, "Sue's dealing a lot of critisism. Wouldn't it be better if...."

Later at Kung Fu, I see Brightsmile Mum ("Kung Fu? When did he start doing that?" had said support worker. They'd all responded positively to this latest development in my son's life)

"My son wants me to be happy," I told Brightsmile. "He didn't say, I want to stop my mummy smoking or drinking or shoving needles in her arm, or hitting me across the room or telling me to fuck off all the time. He said he wanted to make me happy."

"My daughter says that all the time!" she said. "You've got to be careful. Once you're on their books, they'll get you for anything."

Hey, I don't know. Maybe the social services genuinely want to help us but one other thing Art Therapist had said.

"Do we honestly believe, that if Sue had got her secure flat, a council flat, that everything would be ok in her life now?"

They all said "No" - No? How do they know no? - but me, I fucking forgot to say: "If I seem a little on edge today, it's because I've got the dentist this afternoon, not because I've got a room full of people, shining a spot light on me and my parenting."

I'm afraid I can't advise anyone on how to "be" should they end up in a meeting like this. Though upon reflection, if you can bring someone with you, do.

Children in Need: The system's not at fault; parent's are...

Who was at the "Child in Need" meeting yesterday to discuss my son's welfare? Two social workers, my housing support worker, the school's deputy head and my son's Art Therapy teacher.

Housing issues took up rather alot of time, which I won't go into here but may reflect back to in other posts.

In the pre chat round up, the social worker said that we'd moved home and were in "secure", accommodation now, well "stable" at least, a two year lease.

Secure? Stable? Er no! My son and I are much happier now, it's fantastic he's got his own room and has friends round to play but

You know what reader, this is just too massive, I'll be here all day.

Basically, the housing support worker said that if we were evicted in two years time, be it on lease ends or back to work arrears or government cuts to benefits "you'll just have to move, that's just the way it is!"

It's not your home, you just have to move, it's not your home, you just have to move - Libdem Lady still haunts my dreams

"I don't accept that!"

They all piled in about how concerned they were that I still worried about housing and the effect that was having on my son.

My defeat at not getting a council flat reared itself up with the housing support worker seemingly impressed that I'd contacted everyone, written to everyone; managers high up, councillors - but now there was "no-where left to go!"

"Yes there is," I said and mentioned a possibility.
They all laughed.
"Them! They're a big, an enormous charity!" What was support worker thinking? I didn't stand a chance? I was joking?
"Not for me," I said. "For everybody" and I waved my fingers in the air as I said "everybody", in the way we sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to toddlers.

There is so much more to say about about housing, and I'm sure I will say it, but the bottom line is this:
You are harming your child.
The housing system is as it is, accept it.
You are harming your child.
Whatever you do
Whatever you say
You are harming your child
It's no-one's fault but yours.

We are all millionaires

In the great scheme of things, in the wider picture so huge it spans further than the eye can see

We are all millionaires
You are a millionaire

Repeat after me

I am a millionaire
I am a millionaire
I AM A MILLIONAIRE!!!!!!

Now still your mind.

Double Whammy Days

Today is a double whammy day.

Social workers are descending on my son's school for a "Child in Need" meeting.
I have mentally, emotionally prepared myself for this by putting on some make-up. Well, it is armour of sorts isn't it....

Following this I have Root Canal Visit number 4 at the dentist.
Last Friday's appointment was cancelled because an "emergency" arrived just before I did.

In her book "A diamond in your pocket", Gangaji says we must stop thinking. We must still our minds.

Good idea.

Brilliant idea.

(I wish I was a millionaire)

I owe you one Cainer

The heart beats madly and I read:

Don't be pessimistic. Though you have a lot of problems to solve and a lot of questions that you need to answer, you also have a lot to look forward to. Something is starting to shift. A seemingly impenetrable obstacle has already developed a hairline crack. Sooner than you think, it may collapse under its own weight, leaving you a clear pathway. You are not alone in your desire to accomplish an important goal. Other, highly influential forces are at work behind the scenes. They share your goal.

I hope, I hope...

My son's social worker just came round. I don't want to talk about it if that's ok. Just that I said if they couldn't help us with housing, then they couldn't help us at all. He said he saw no reason why they should still be involved. If you can't help us with housing, then there is no point, indeed.

Dentist in an hour

Don't be pessimistic, don't be pessimistic

Thanks Cainer

Don't be pessimistic
Don't be pessimistic
Breathe

Thanks stiggers

"I am doing the best I can for my son..."

Now that I'm pretty much happily ensconced in my new two bedroom flat, it would be nice to get the social services off my case (I only ever wanted them with help with housing after all and that didn't work..)

Anyway, I hope I haven't landed myself deeper in their books by being honest about the week my son's had.

Briefly, I'll try and be brief...

Yesterday he came home saying that three of his best friends "kicked" him "in the willy". It was at playtime and his friends only stopped laughing at him writhing in pain on the ground when two year six's came over and told them to stop.

His friends apologised after that, my son told me and I asked him what he'd said to that.

"I wanted to forget about it mummy, so I said 'it's alright'."

"That's good, but next time, if there is a next time, there will not be a next time, say "It's alright. DON'T DO IT AGAIN. Next time, if there is a next time, there will not be a next time, tell a teacher, tell

(Housing Association rang the door bell at this point, an hour early so I saved the draft to carry on with it. Sorry, it might have been one of the more interesting posts for some of the mummy bloggers who sometimes read this but I've got to go outside and rage.

"I'm doing the best I can for my son," is what I tried to say to the social worker in my defence. My defence.. fuck
The word that was going to follow "tell" was "me"

Games that get out of hand, I told the social worker, games that get out of hand, that's all

RRRRRRRRRRAAAAARGH

Stumbling blocks

Tomorrow I have a doctor's appointment, arranged by the social services who will sit in on this meeting I do not want.

"Oh hello doctor, last time I saw you, you were complicit with the social services in blackmailing me."

Trust has gone. The things I want to talk about I can't, especially with two men sitting there who are eager to tick a box that I am in some way failing my child.

I had an appointment with the job centre in the morning but I changed it to next week. Too much to deal with in one day.

I tell you this perhaps because although I may not blog as much as before, because housing did dominate and I am now happy where I am, the difficulty of a life on benefits will have its challenges.

Why?
My rent is £345 a week.
£100 extra for an extra bedroom.
Never mind cuts to housing benefits seeing me drown
I'm being forced back to work.
I want to go back to work.
A full time deputy editor on a magazine I never earnt that sum.
On top, Camden are cutting funds to all play services.
My son's after school club may have to go.
What will I, what will everyone else do?

I'm not bidding yet, that's for sure. I was unsuccessful when in desperate need, I don't need reminding of that, don't need weekly reminding that this roof is insecure..

So Nico Teen, gonna chat about you alot!
A week without you and you're back.
Not for long buddy, not for long.

Allen Carr and Stigmum, is that all a girl needs?

Put forward to the exceptions panel!

A call while I'm out, having posted my letter and now seeing my lovely friend Jo, one of a handful of beautiful friends able to take my weight.

It's my son's new social worker on the phone (is he? My son's new social worker? I don't know. He is a social worker though).

"I've heard you've been given the eviction order," he says.

"Yes," I reply, but only from the housing association, not the bailiff, though I don't say that.

He tells me our case has been taken to the exceptions panel! This news, if ever I could be given news, is good. I only hope it's not too late.

He asks if it's ok if he's arranges the three way meeting with my doc. Has to be really. He says come the new year he wants me and my son to be settled and me to be"happy". He has a cheerful tone on the phone. I remember him from the transfer meeting, quite big, broad shoulders...

"What does it mean?" asks Jo afterwards.
"Oh crikey! More points! Maybe they'll place us somewhere permanent!" (Nice I hope, if that happens. Happened to mum upstairs and there were wires coming out of the walls when she moved in, mould around the window frames)

"Oh Jo!" I exclaim again, so blown away by the coincidence. "It's the universe! It's like I've sent something good out, via the housing minister, so it's sent me something good back, via a social worker!"

I hug my friend. Hug her tight with all my hopes and dreams. She can take it, why I love her sooooo much!

I have to keep hoping keep hoping keep hoping.
Keep believing keep believing keep believing.
Keep hoping believing hoping believing hoping believing.
I must have faith.

Attempting to make my own luck....

Hi [son's social worker],
Just to say thanks for being [my son's] duty social worker and for mentioning mine and his loving relationship at the meeting yesterday.
I have to say though, because no-one heard me, is that all my 'underlying issues' are to do with housing. All my 'underlying issues' were woken up when I got pregnant and had to move and then since then have been forced to move three times with my son.
You know I was sent to boarding school at 14. The nature of these places is that you have to 'move room' every term, and pack and unpack every holiday. You know I was 'evicted' from the first school and sent to a place more like a borstal afterwards.
They told me stop talking about housing yesterday at the meeting, but I can't, especially right now as me and [my son] await another bailiffs order and his education is most at risk, because the next place won't be secure, so he'll be looking at being evicted again.
Any therapy I have will be about housing, housing, housing and the only way to stop that is for me and my child to be offered a permanent flat.
I'm glad the meeting could see I'm not failing my child in anyway, but they must understand that the system is.
I've bid on two local properties today. A seven year struggle with housing can be over so easily but unfortunately that's up to the council.
Good luck with your future endeavours, it was nice to meet you and know that like me, you are, or were a single mother, and know just how difficult it can be.
Kind regards
Sue

Knife edges in the deep dark woods

Thanks, it's such a knife edge isn't it. Couldn't trust that a child protection order on [my son] would help either of us, because unfortunately, it would be him needing protection from me, not needing protection from such an unfair system (and I don't care that [New Support Worker] says they are acting 'within the law'.. the law is wrong!)
I hope I put my points across ok. I wish I'd been able to nail a permanent offer for my boy. Next time round I guess...
Many many thanks again, I'll buy you a drink at the next disco!!
Sue

My response to the Deputy yesterday after she'd responded to my email saying I "did very well in such a stressful situation."

She'd really backed me up saying I was a major player in the school's PTA and mentioned the discos I always help out with. It'll be a lemonade if she lets me, none of the staff ever do as I do and reach for Al.

I wanted to end the email on a lighter tone, for I'm so not looking forward to the 'next round'.

Maybe there won't be a 'next round'. Maybe there'll be a miracle.

Thirty three Chilean miners survived 69 days down in the bowels of the earth. For 17 days, everyone thought they were dead. Today they are all freeeeeeeeee!!!

Hope can triumph!

I'll keep hoping and praying that a miracle happens for me and my son too in these deep, dark woods.

"Who do you have supporting you?"

The social services Leader man asked me:

"Who do you have supporting you?"

It was a tricky question.

"Erm, not counting the school, er..."

"Family?"

"Friends."

I stalled cos of you stiggers. I also think it's a blessing I momentarily forgot that I asked Mary, St Rita, Arch Angel Michael and Angel Cambiel (Power) to come into the room with me.

They were there but I wonder what the response would have been if I'd answered: "God."?

Hmmm, I'll never know!

The Transfer Meeting

We were five men and five women, me included.

"I'm sorry I'm late," I said as I stumbled in, helmet on head. "My son forgot his homework book and luckily we live right near the school so I could drop it off." Didn't mention I couldn't open the email to remind myself of the address so just had to guess....

My master plan was to stay quiet and to speak when spoken to. To listen to everything said against me and my little one. Cluttered flat came up, my son saying "I hate my life" came up, that I did defend a little later saying children say all types of things.

The school nurse, when it was her turn to speak, said that my son had turned up for his check well presented, that his height and weight were at the average percentile for his age group and that he was very kind - there were a number of children being checked that day and he offered his seat to a little girl who didn't have one. Aw, my boy!

I was asked about his anxieties, and not wanting to implicate myself too much, said I didn't know what went on at school but I trusted the school implicitly, they had support structures in place to deal with all childrens' issues, not just mine. I said I was on top of it at home. He didn't know I was depressed (his social worker had said my son was concerned about my depression), but he recognised the rhythms of our situation and dealt with it. Pressed on how, I said he played on his game boy or read his book when I was in quiet mode. "Whenever I get a repossession or a possession notice for example, I go very quiet."

New support worker... wow, every barrel. He said I wanted to commit suicide (thought about it, big difference), that I was accusing the council of discrimination, of being unfair, "writing to the local paper, to the Guardian about it!" He said the council were acting within the law (to which I said the law was wrong) and any way, to cut a long story short, we were told to stop talking about housing!

My mental health they wanted to know about so I told them. "We're not talking about housing anymore," they interrupted.

In short, they asked me how they could help me, and I shrugged. I dunno. (Couldn't say housing anymore than I'd said housing)

Concerned about my mental health, one of the men are going to call my doctor and there will be a three way meeting between us (I did not look over excited at the prospect, relations with my doctor have gone somewhat down hill, particularly since, she too, told me to stop thinking about housing..what fun meeting that will be...)

I'd mentioned writing to everyone including all the prime ministers of the past five years. "What do you think that can do to help you?" asked the Leader man. "Aiming that high, I'm asking them to change things for everybody else."

I held it together in there. Maybe reacting and acting out, making them think I can't cope would have made them put my son on the child protection register which might have helped us get a secure home. Not a risk I was prepared to take though.

Tell you what did facilitate things quite alot though. The Leader man was quite good looking! You know, a kind of inside out handsomeness! "That certainly helped," I said to Deputy!

Apologies for the long post. I just don't want to talk about it anymore today.

Every Parent Matters

Hi [Deputy],
I'd just like to say thank you so very very much for coming to the social service transfer meeting with me. Alone to defend [my son] I might have quite simply lost it, either crying or banging my fists on the table trying to get these professionals to understand how important a secure home near [my son's] school is to me.

That you and the nurse said such brilliant things about him, his progress and his behaviour, I can only hope all these professionals heard it and particularly in regards to our housing impact, took it on board.

They might want me to forget about housing but whether this ends badly or well, I can't. They have told me in no uncertain terms that our next accommodation will not be secure. I am witness to a massive social injustice and unfortunately me and [my son] are part of that. At [your] school, Every Child Matters (to coin a new labour phrase) but sadly, when it comes to housing, not every child does or not every child can.

I can only hope that [my son] isn't greatly affected by the move and with his fragile security in place, well, I'll just have to find a job which enables me to do my little bit in changing the landscape the coalition are hell bent on destroying (I asked [ex New Labour Spin Guy] for tips on how to start up my own political party and he said he'd 'think about it'....who knows what will happen!)

Thanks again for being there for both [my son] and me. It meant and means such alot.

All the best,

Sue