I can't articulate the magnitude so I won't even try.
Tomorrow morning I have a 2 hour exam which if I pass will be a positive step in direction of my dreams - namely to learn shorthand (in the short-term) and get a payrise.(in the long-term)
Tomorrow afternoon I am viewing a flat. This is huge, this is so big, this is enormous.
The flat is great for my son, but not for me, on account of Zat bike and there being no space for it. It's a form of transport I need. Would you get rid of your much loved car because the home you've had a choiceless choice to move into meant you had to? Anyway, I'm saying YES and feel really fucking sick. I don't want to lose the bike. Argos have a 65% clearance sale going on though so timing couldn't be more perfect if we got it. Starting from scratch here...neither of us have beds and that's just the start...
I need to share some coincidences...I'll be quick, I don't like long posts particularly unless they are well written and well, love Stigmum as I do, I am her conduit and a hopeless judge.
The flat I'm viewing tomorrow is in the same block, or next door to the block where I said 'no' to a flat 6 years ago. (The first person had accepted it so I didn't see why I had to...)
I got a call on Tuesday, after posting (!) to go and view a flat I bid on in.... Papier Mache Towers! Yes, the place my son and I wrote this entire blog from when we were being evicted. "Aren't there plans to knock it down?" I said to the woman on the phone. "I don't know about that," she said. "I'm only given names to call. Do you want to view it?"
Yesterday I bet myself that on the bidding boards today, there would be a garden flat. There would be my 'ideal home'.
Bingo! There it was. Ground and basement floors with a garden. Steps so not for wheelchairs. And where is it? Why, the very street my son first lived on. A few doors down from where we both lived with the Foca. The very first place we were booted out from. Well, given no choice but to leave.
It made me think about Posh Street, where we were evicted from afterwards, narrowly avoiding a hostel only to land in Papier Mache Towers. I'd stand in the Posh Street's park in those dark days and implore the sky: "Please, one day, bring me back to Rochester!" like a Bronte heroine, only not half as cool.
Imagine...(I breathe, it is, all, if not too much, alot)
Anything could happen. Who knows what can happen? Not me (I've been reading posts that I saw others had read from Stiggers stats - long story ey stigs, a long long story but them readers picked some good ones for me to read back on. Your best is sometimes hard to find)
I'm praying I pass that exam tomorrow morning.
With the housing, I'm praying, I'm praying hard for the best outcome.
Whatever happens, I'm saying YES.
With that I relinquish control and hope the best, whatever that may be, comes to me and my boy.
My son, my sun, my boy, my buoy.
He asked to sleep in my bed tonight - "So you can hear me breathing if you can't sleep. I remember you said that used to help you when we shared a room"
How many times can you win in life?
I won with him; my son my sun my buoy, my boy.
I win for him now.
best outcomes best outcome best outcomes
Showing posts with label Training. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Training. Show all posts
Thursday, 10 January 2013
Thursday, 12 January 2012
When volunteering is not good for your health
Steering group meeting today with the group of volunteers I volunteer with.
It's often brilliant to see these people because they are brilliant people
Many of the parents that I volunteer with are already in part time paid employment or like the (founder?) of the Grandparent's Association, campaign voluntarily elsewhere.
We discussed lots of things in the meeting but one of the things we discussed was our next workshop day which is going to focus on, of all things, housing. rrrrrargh 0 to -60 instantaneously as my whole body tenses.
I've got a pukka job at these workshops, as volunteer journo, but I came out of the meeting today in my automatic default suicide position and then finding myself there and reminding myself I have a child so get with it for fucks sake
800 families privately renting and claiming housing benefit in Camden are going to have to move as a direct result of benefit caps, I heard, in the meeting.
One of workshops (there tend to be three) on our workshop day, is going to advise people about the rent caps. We're going to try and wheel in a councillor to talk to the group and advise people about what they can do.
So pointless. So totally utterly pointless. I'm sat there shaking my head and holding the sick feeling in my throat as though the action might remove my head from my shoulders and I can be GONE.
However, I must remember that maybe some of these 800 families have never faced eviction before, or twice before, or thrice before and therefore won't know how utterly pointless any advice is from a local councillor (or minister for that matter).
You know, I did actually make some people laugh at the meeting. Not about housing, no, ha ha ha how could you think that?! No, just about something I read in the Guardian where charities are too afraid to speak out in support of the people they are registered to help incase their funding gets reduced. Yeah Yeah, what a charity said to me...needing to remain 'impartial.'
One woman's sister might lose her job for querying some reforms being tabled at the local prison. The advice is for her to keep her mouth shut or she'll be claiming JSA with 2 million other people.
How did I make people laugh. Well I sang didn't I, Olivia Newton John:
Let's get cynical cynical
We gotta get cynical
Let us hear these Bodies talk, these Bodies talk...!
As the group laughed I could hear my son in my deep subconscious shout "Be quiet mummeeeeeee" and me shouting back "I can do what I like in MY OWN BEDROOM SON"
I'm so cynical cynical
don't wanna be cynica-a-al
can you hear my feelings talk
my feelings balk
Can you hear my feelings talk?
OHHHHHH I'm so cynical, are you cynica -a-alllllllllll
Can you hear your feelings talk?
It's often brilliant to see these people because they are brilliant people
Many of the parents that I volunteer with are already in part time paid employment or like the (founder?) of the Grandparent's Association, campaign voluntarily elsewhere.
We discussed lots of things in the meeting but one of the things we discussed was our next workshop day which is going to focus on, of all things, housing. rrrrrargh 0 to -60 instantaneously as my whole body tenses.
I've got a pukka job at these workshops, as volunteer journo, but I came out of the meeting today in my automatic default suicide position and then finding myself there and reminding myself I have a child so get with it for fucks sake
800 families privately renting and claiming housing benefit in Camden are going to have to move as a direct result of benefit caps, I heard, in the meeting.
One of workshops (there tend to be three) on our workshop day, is going to advise people about the rent caps. We're going to try and wheel in a councillor to talk to the group and advise people about what they can do.
So pointless. So totally utterly pointless. I'm sat there shaking my head and holding the sick feeling in my throat as though the action might remove my head from my shoulders and I can be GONE.
However, I must remember that maybe some of these 800 families have never faced eviction before, or twice before, or thrice before and therefore won't know how utterly pointless any advice is from a local councillor (or minister for that matter).
You know, I did actually make some people laugh at the meeting. Not about housing, no, ha ha ha how could you think that?! No, just about something I read in the Guardian where charities are too afraid to speak out in support of the people they are registered to help incase their funding gets reduced. Yeah Yeah, what a charity said to me...needing to remain 'impartial.'
One woman's sister might lose her job for querying some reforms being tabled at the local prison. The advice is for her to keep her mouth shut or she'll be claiming JSA with 2 million other people.
How did I make people laugh. Well I sang didn't I, Olivia Newton John:
Let's get cynical cynical
We gotta get cynical
Let us hear these Bodies talk, these Bodies talk...!
As the group laughed I could hear my son in my deep subconscious shout "Be quiet mummeeeeeee" and me shouting back "I can do what I like in MY OWN BEDROOM SON"
I'm so cynical cynical
don't wanna be cynica-a-al
can you hear my feelings talk
my feelings balk
Can you hear my feelings talk?
OHHHHHH I'm so cynical, are you cynica -a-alllllllllll
Can you hear your feelings talk?
Thursday, 11 November 2010
The last time for a long time..I'm guessing
Bidding Day!!
The exclamation because I'm not going to be doing it again for a while, a long while I hope. I'm going to give myself a break from it for my sanity's sake.
What do we have this week?
Two for me and my boy.
The first I bid on was a double/single flat, 10th floor of a tower block on a large estate. Shower only (a smile from me; I don't know of any council flat that has an ensuite shower and a separate bathroom like I'm going to have in the temporary they found me!) There's full central heating, a communal garden and rent is set at £117 a week.
The second was the ground floor double/single flat on a small estate, with a front garden. 1 internal, 1 external step. "Priority will be given to applicants assessed as having a medical need for ground floor, the to applicants with children under 5 living above the 2nd floor and or with overcrowding points." Rent is set at £83 a week.
I'd have liked this one though not the first one. You see, with this bidding lark, you have to bid for what 'ideally' you don't want. You have to try not to hope for what you do, especially if you have a child over 5, are living above the 2nd floor and the policies for your situation don't allow you overcrowding points.
Maybe you can tell I'm feeling grateful today. With good reason to, fecking hell, with good reason to.
Juggling mum and Gardening mum in the playground were really pleased we'd got somewhere.
"You can go and get a job now," said Juggling. "No more volunteering, go out and get paid work."
"Oh, not so easy now," I smiled (smiled?) "Did you read the Observer on Sunday?"
Ah yes Juggler, why should a company or a charity pay me when you are there to pay them and pay me? And on top of that my sweet, still pay my housing benefit as well.
She's got a point though, I'd like paid work, but whereas she thinks I should take any old shit, money is money, Gardening mum's more in tune with me, that I should somehow find something more in tune to my skills and knowledge base.
I don't know what I'm going to do but I'm going to try not to worry about it. I just want to move into my new place and take it all from there.
Flip, hallellujah, a rest from bidding. Hope I don't get suicidal thoughts again when I restart the depressing process.
Stop thinking about that
Yes, thanks stiggers, I'll stop thinking about that.
The exclamation because I'm not going to be doing it again for a while, a long while I hope. I'm going to give myself a break from it for my sanity's sake.
What do we have this week?
Two for me and my boy.
The first I bid on was a double/single flat, 10th floor of a tower block on a large estate. Shower only (a smile from me; I don't know of any council flat that has an ensuite shower and a separate bathroom like I'm going to have in the temporary they found me!) There's full central heating, a communal garden and rent is set at £117 a week.
The second was the ground floor double/single flat on a small estate, with a front garden. 1 internal, 1 external step. "Priority will be given to applicants assessed as having a medical need for ground floor, the to applicants with children under 5 living above the 2nd floor and or with overcrowding points." Rent is set at £83 a week.
I'd have liked this one though not the first one. You see, with this bidding lark, you have to bid for what 'ideally' you don't want. You have to try not to hope for what you do, especially if you have a child over 5, are living above the 2nd floor and the policies for your situation don't allow you overcrowding points.
Maybe you can tell I'm feeling grateful today. With good reason to, fecking hell, with good reason to.
Juggling mum and Gardening mum in the playground were really pleased we'd got somewhere.
"You can go and get a job now," said Juggling. "No more volunteering, go out and get paid work."
"Oh, not so easy now," I smiled (smiled?) "Did you read the Observer on Sunday?"
Ah yes Juggler, why should a company or a charity pay me when you are there to pay them and pay me? And on top of that my sweet, still pay my housing benefit as well.
She's got a point though, I'd like paid work, but whereas she thinks I should take any old shit, money is money, Gardening mum's more in tune with me, that I should somehow find something more in tune to my skills and knowledge base.
I don't know what I'm going to do but I'm going to try not to worry about it. I just want to move into my new place and take it all from there.
Flip, hallellujah, a rest from bidding. Hope I don't get suicidal thoughts again when I restart the depressing process.
Stop thinking about that
Yes, thanks stiggers, I'll stop thinking about that.
Tuesday, 15 June 2010
New beginnings?
Yesterday morning I cycled all the way to Bethnal Green (7 miles?) for my first day's voluntary work thing where I'm learning how to train others in the Participatory Appraisal research thing I did last year.
Yesterday morning I had the mother of all hangovers. England party and picnic weekend. Fun soaked in Al Cohol to celebrate my new year. So much of it. On Saturday Pimms until I was well fruity myself so I wasn't too sour grapes about our draw with the USA (I so wanted us to win what with all that BP lark going on...) Cava until I caved in Sunday. Well, actually, Sunday there was a lot of mixing...wine, beer, a fellow mamma accompanying me home to continue partying.
I think I was still drunk when I woke up. Wouldn't do to pull a sickie, even if my services are for free....Fortunately I was mainly observing. The group we're training though are great! One salt of the earth London mamma, and a dozen Bengali mammas and four Bengali dads. Some British born, some not but really good company! Hopeless with their lovely names but I'm hopeless with names anyway.
Pulled into The Golden Arches afterwards for a vat of coke and a Happy Meal. Same old same old me but hell's bells, a new year comes with new hopes and what a way to start mine!
Yesterday morning I had the mother of all hangovers. England party and picnic weekend. Fun soaked in Al Cohol to celebrate my new year. So much of it. On Saturday Pimms until I was well fruity myself so I wasn't too sour grapes about our draw with the USA (I so wanted us to win what with all that BP lark going on...) Cava until I caved in Sunday. Well, actually, Sunday there was a lot of mixing...wine, beer, a fellow mamma accompanying me home to continue partying.
I think I was still drunk when I woke up. Wouldn't do to pull a sickie, even if my services are for free....Fortunately I was mainly observing. The group we're training though are great! One salt of the earth London mamma, and a dozen Bengali mammas and four Bengali dads. Some British born, some not but really good company! Hopeless with their lovely names but I'm hopeless with names anyway.
Pulled into The Golden Arches afterwards for a vat of coke and a Happy Meal. Same old same old me but hell's bells, a new year comes with new hopes and what a way to start mine!
Friday, 26 March 2010
The perks of doing a journo course
My journalism course ended today. So sad! Still the opportunity is there now to contribute to the parents' website.
One major bonus for me is I met and befriended a woman there who wants to teach shorthand! I have always wanted to learn shorthand and she wants to start a career in teaching it. Result!
Only myself and one other parent is interested in it! She's really cheap too! (She actually said I didn't have to pay but I've insisted.. "start as you mean to go on" I told her)
Afterwards four of us went to a Turkish Cantina for a 'full breakfast' for £3.90 including tea or coffee (oh coffee, I miss you!!). I can never make my fried eggs look so perfect and on the plate with them were sausage slices, cucumber, tomato, olives and feta cheese!
So yes, a really lovely end to a really positive training experience!
One major bonus for me is I met and befriended a woman there who wants to teach shorthand! I have always wanted to learn shorthand and she wants to start a career in teaching it. Result!
Only myself and one other parent is interested in it! She's really cheap too! (She actually said I didn't have to pay but I've insisted.. "start as you mean to go on" I told her)
Afterwards four of us went to a Turkish Cantina for a 'full breakfast' for £3.90 including tea or coffee (oh coffee, I miss you!!). I can never make my fried eggs look so perfect and on the plate with them were sausage slices, cucumber, tomato, olives and feta cheese!
So yes, a really lovely end to a really positive training experience!
Wednesday, 17 March 2010
The Blind Side
Very fortunate was I to be able to go and see this film. Thanks notSupermum and thanks http://www.seefilmfirst.com/.
What I didn't realise before going to see The Blindside is that it is a true story. This is perhaps what makes this award winning film even more extraordinary than it otherwise could have been.
Michael Oher (Quinton Aaron) is an enormous young African American man with learning difficulties who has been bounced around from foster home to foster home all his life.
His friend's father manages to get him enrolled in a prestigious Christian school based on his athletic abilities. With no home to go to, it's a chance meeting with Leigh Anne Tuohy (Oscar winning Sandra Bullock) one night as he's walking aimlessly in the cold that changes the course of his life. It certainly changes the course of hers, for her thoughts, rather than Oher's, dominates the film.
Leigh Anne and her husband Sean (Tim McGraw) invite Mike to stay the night and when in the morning, he has gone, having folded up his bed sheets so neatly, they go after him and invite him to their Thanksgiving Celebrations and then to become a member of their family.
Bullock is great as the strong willed, ball breaking, compassionate mother who succeeds in getting her family to accept Big Mike and her wealthy friends to open their non liberal eyes a little to the wider society they live in. Kathy Bates is brilliant as the tutor Miss Sue, who's bought in to get Mike's grades up to university acceptance levels.
This is a feel good, glossy film. The 'blindside' is an American Football term but could just as easily refer to the subtle societal and racial divisions, the prejudice and cynicism of certain individuals, that underlie but certainly do not engulf John Lee Hancock's direction.
More of Mike's past would've been good but how do you navigate so much in so little time? Go see, go see! Tis good, tis good!
(Right, and now stiggers I shall take your take on it and clean it up to see if the journo course people will take it for their website!)
What I didn't realise before going to see The Blindside is that it is a true story. This is perhaps what makes this award winning film even more extraordinary than it otherwise could have been.
Michael Oher (Quinton Aaron) is an enormous young African American man with learning difficulties who has been bounced around from foster home to foster home all his life.
His friend's father manages to get him enrolled in a prestigious Christian school based on his athletic abilities. With no home to go to, it's a chance meeting with Leigh Anne Tuohy (Oscar winning Sandra Bullock) one night as he's walking aimlessly in the cold that changes the course of his life. It certainly changes the course of hers, for her thoughts, rather than Oher's, dominates the film.
Leigh Anne and her husband Sean (Tim McGraw) invite Mike to stay the night and when in the morning, he has gone, having folded up his bed sheets so neatly, they go after him and invite him to their Thanksgiving Celebrations and then to become a member of their family.
Bullock is great as the strong willed, ball breaking, compassionate mother who succeeds in getting her family to accept Big Mike and her wealthy friends to open their non liberal eyes a little to the wider society they live in. Kathy Bates is brilliant as the tutor Miss Sue, who's bought in to get Mike's grades up to university acceptance levels.
This is a feel good, glossy film. The 'blindside' is an American Football term but could just as easily refer to the subtle societal and racial divisions, the prejudice and cynicism of certain individuals, that underlie but certainly do not engulf John Lee Hancock's direction.
More of Mike's past would've been good but how do you navigate so much in so little time? Go see, go see! Tis good, tis good!
(Right, and now stiggers I shall take your take on it and clean it up to see if the journo course people will take it for their website!)
Wednesday, 24 February 2010
On being interviewed
I told you the other day the part of the council I volunteer for asked if one of the parents would agree to be interviewed on the PA work we did.
The manager in charge got back to me yesterday saying a parent had stepped up, but she'd send my details to the interviewee just in case.
I know the parent who stepped up. We presented to the board together. We've got a kind of unspoken agreement to work on this stuff together.
I replied to the manager saying the parent who had stepped up was much better at articulating the work we did than I was, but I would be happy to accompany her and not be interviewed myself.
I wrote the parents perspective. You'd think wouldn't you, that I'd be quite capable of verbally articulating it.
No! This other parent is much, much better than me, even with her thick Portuguese accent. I've seen her in action, believe me!
"We worked as a team," I said to the manager (who very kindly hoped all was well in my life as she signed off and I said I hoped me and my son would get housed soon)
That's me really.
Writing has always been a kind of therapy for me. It's also a hobby and a companion, especially when I was travelling. Something I did, something I do for myself.
When writing was a job I was paid to do, there were always subs around to clean it up a bit.
I'm really glad my Portuguese friend has agreed to be interviewed; this PA stuff is really important.
In short I am someone who can work on her own but works better as part of a team.
There, you really wanted to know that didn't you?!
(I should actually have placed this post nearer where I posted the 'voice of the people' thing. Oh well! Fragmented motherboard, fragmented blogspot, art mirrors life once again!)
The manager in charge got back to me yesterday saying a parent had stepped up, but she'd send my details to the interviewee just in case.
I know the parent who stepped up. We presented to the board together. We've got a kind of unspoken agreement to work on this stuff together.
I replied to the manager saying the parent who had stepped up was much better at articulating the work we did than I was, but I would be happy to accompany her and not be interviewed myself.
I wrote the parents perspective. You'd think wouldn't you, that I'd be quite capable of verbally articulating it.
No! This other parent is much, much better than me, even with her thick Portuguese accent. I've seen her in action, believe me!
"We worked as a team," I said to the manager (who very kindly hoped all was well in my life as she signed off and I said I hoped me and my son would get housed soon)
That's me really.
Writing has always been a kind of therapy for me. It's also a hobby and a companion, especially when I was travelling. Something I did, something I do for myself.
When writing was a job I was paid to do, there were always subs around to clean it up a bit.
I'm really glad my Portuguese friend has agreed to be interviewed; this PA stuff is really important.
In short I am someone who can work on her own but works better as part of a team.
There, you really wanted to know that didn't you?!
(I should actually have placed this post nearer where I posted the 'voice of the people' thing. Oh well! Fragmented motherboard, fragmented blogspot, art mirrors life once again!)
Monday, 22 February 2010
I am not stupid, I am not mad
The motherboard meltdown I had at my parents place wasn't altogether awful but perhaps that is because they were there. They were there, my son was there, my neices, my nephew, my brother, my sister.
In short, my family.
Oh, and Nicoteen, my faithful friendly foe.
I am back home now, in my home that is not my home, just somewhere I rent (Libdem Lady, you probably didn't mean to hurt me)
I cannot afford to break down again, because really, it's not that pleasant if you are going through it on your own.
As I dropped my son off at school this rainy monday morning, choosing to take the front entrance so I could hand in the form so my son can do gymnastics, I saw the head, the deputy head and someone else standing where they usually do on a Monday morning, under the clock, in the corridor.
I went over and told them I was in the local paper.
I could not articulate this very well, not 'normally' at any rate, speaking ten to the dozen, when suddenly the deputy says: "Would you like a cup of tea?"
I did not expect that and said yes, yes please.
In her office I told her what had happened. I told her my 'big secret' and you know, bless her, she didn't ask for the link.
The school's primary concern, obviously, is my son. I told her yes, I was trying to protect him, I was trying to protect myself, that's what the blog is all about. Well, now at any rate. Now I can see...
It was good to 'off load' some of my mental mayhem. I can trust my son's school. I trust it because they have always, always, taken care of my son when I have asked them to.
I didn't ask her now, but she did say, if my meeting with the editor over ran today, they would look after him if my son didn't get into gymnastics (a volume of parents like me handed in their forms this morning.."Let's get there early," I said to my son. "It's first come first serve. You might not get in, but we'll say a little prayer to Jesus." "And God mummy." "Yes, yes, God too but if it doesn't happen, you've got swimming on Mondays, so it's not meant to, ok?" "OK".)
I thanked the deputy, a lot!
Nicoteen on the way to the coffee shop. Nicoteen on the walk home with my double expresso.
First things first, I called my doctor. I have an appointment next Monday but asked the receptionist to ask the doctor to call me. She will, when her shift finishes after midday.
I went to my inbox and replied to my friend Anne, that I would try and attend her redundancy drinks evening. Years ago I used to work on a communications title, that's where I met her. I find that quite funny, the coincidence (you know, calling my mind a motherboard and all that)
I replied to a person in the council, saying I would be prepared to be interviewed about the PA report I was part of.
I'm not sure I'm up to that, but she sent the email last week so perhaps another parent has stepped up to it. Que sera sera cross that bridge and all that.
Like I said to deputy, I cannot abandon "what I did before". I still need to go to Bazza's Boot Camp and stuff. She agreed. I was talking sense obviously in my ten to the dozen chatter.
Now obviously, I am here, ten to the dozen typing.
Later, I have a meeting with the editor. I told the deputy "I have to trust him". You can't tell someone you've got a 'big secret' then not tell them what it is. She told me to "be careful". I told her I would be, "he did pull the article the other day after all, I think I can trust him. I hope I can."
For you though, and for me, I'm going to post some of what I went through at the weekend, some of the stuff I didn't get round to posting last week, because my son was hogging the computer!
It's important because I AM STILL HERE. What I've been through has given me HOPE.
I will leave this post with a song. Susan Boyle! I forgot to bring my cds to my parents and Saturday night, I saw hers in the kitchen. My brother got it for my mum for her birthday apparently. "Do you know, I've never heard her sing," I said to my neice. "Really?!" she replied. "Yes, really!"
I pick this song, or the relevant to me bits, because that's where I was last week and over the weekend I learnt that no woman is an island (John Donne with a stigmum tweak)
You think after all you've done
I'll never find my way back home
You'll see, somehow, someday
All by myself
I don't need anyone at all
I know I'll survive
I know I'll stay alive
All on my own
I don't need anyone this time
It will be mine
No one can take it from me
You'll see
I do need people this time, I cannot do what I need to do, all by myself.
Yo doc, I await your call. Yo ed, I hope our meeting goes well! I'm actually crapping myself (figure of speech, not literally for once!)
(And a big thank you to Jen of the cigarette diaries for teaching me how to do multiple label links!)
In short, my family.
Oh, and Nicoteen, my faithful friendly foe.
I am back home now, in my home that is not my home, just somewhere I rent (Libdem Lady, you probably didn't mean to hurt me)
I cannot afford to break down again, because really, it's not that pleasant if you are going through it on your own.
As I dropped my son off at school this rainy monday morning, choosing to take the front entrance so I could hand in the form so my son can do gymnastics, I saw the head, the deputy head and someone else standing where they usually do on a Monday morning, under the clock, in the corridor.
I went over and told them I was in the local paper.
I could not articulate this very well, not 'normally' at any rate, speaking ten to the dozen, when suddenly the deputy says: "Would you like a cup of tea?"
I did not expect that and said yes, yes please.
In her office I told her what had happened. I told her my 'big secret' and you know, bless her, she didn't ask for the link.
The school's primary concern, obviously, is my son. I told her yes, I was trying to protect him, I was trying to protect myself, that's what the blog is all about. Well, now at any rate. Now I can see...
It was good to 'off load' some of my mental mayhem. I can trust my son's school. I trust it because they have always, always, taken care of my son when I have asked them to.
I didn't ask her now, but she did say, if my meeting with the editor over ran today, they would look after him if my son didn't get into gymnastics (a volume of parents like me handed in their forms this morning.."Let's get there early," I said to my son. "It's first come first serve. You might not get in, but we'll say a little prayer to Jesus." "And God mummy." "Yes, yes, God too but if it doesn't happen, you've got swimming on Mondays, so it's not meant to, ok?" "OK".)
I thanked the deputy, a lot!
Nicoteen on the way to the coffee shop. Nicoteen on the walk home with my double expresso.
First things first, I called my doctor. I have an appointment next Monday but asked the receptionist to ask the doctor to call me. She will, when her shift finishes after midday.
I went to my inbox and replied to my friend Anne, that I would try and attend her redundancy drinks evening. Years ago I used to work on a communications title, that's where I met her. I find that quite funny, the coincidence (you know, calling my mind a motherboard and all that)
I replied to a person in the council, saying I would be prepared to be interviewed about the PA report I was part of.
I'm not sure I'm up to that, but she sent the email last week so perhaps another parent has stepped up to it. Que sera sera cross that bridge and all that.
Like I said to deputy, I cannot abandon "what I did before". I still need to go to Bazza's Boot Camp and stuff. She agreed. I was talking sense obviously in my ten to the dozen chatter.
Now obviously, I am here, ten to the dozen typing.
Later, I have a meeting with the editor. I told the deputy "I have to trust him". You can't tell someone you've got a 'big secret' then not tell them what it is. She told me to "be careful". I told her I would be, "he did pull the article the other day after all, I think I can trust him. I hope I can."
For you though, and for me, I'm going to post some of what I went through at the weekend, some of the stuff I didn't get round to posting last week, because my son was hogging the computer!
It's important because I AM STILL HERE. What I've been through has given me HOPE.
I will leave this post with a song. Susan Boyle! I forgot to bring my cds to my parents and Saturday night, I saw hers in the kitchen. My brother got it for my mum for her birthday apparently. "Do you know, I've never heard her sing," I said to my neice. "Really?!" she replied. "Yes, really!"
I pick this song, or the relevant to me bits, because that's where I was last week and over the weekend I learnt that no woman is an island (John Donne with a stigmum tweak)
You think after all you've done
I'll never find my way back home
You'll see, somehow, someday
All by myself
I don't need anyone at all
I know I'll survive
I know I'll stay alive
All on my own
I don't need anyone this time
It will be mine
No one can take it from me
You'll see
I do need people this time, I cannot do what I need to do, all by myself.
Yo doc, I await your call. Yo ed, I hope our meeting goes well! I'm actually crapping myself (figure of speech, not literally for once!)
(And a big thank you to Jen of the cigarette diaries for teaching me how to do multiple label links!)
Friday, 5 February 2010
"Don't tell her," says my son
I am in my bath this morning and my son comes in to clean his teeth and chat to me.
"Mummy's a bit nervous," I tell him. "Because I'm going to my journalism course today."
"Why are you nervous mummy?"
"Because it's a beginners course."
"So?"
"I used to be a journalist and because I used to be a journalist I shouldn't need to do a beginners course. Because it's a beginners course, the teacher might think that I should be better at it than I am."
"So don't tell her then! D.O.N.T. tell her! Don't tell her!" and with that he pours a bucket of water over my head and giggles that amazing laugh of his I love so much.
It's good advice. It's great advice. It would be fantastic advice if I was going for a paid job.
But holy comoly, even if I didn't blog, these housing events would be really distracting me.
Maybe it would be ok to tell her. I'm doing the course because it's funded by the council's Parent Council.
I think there are plans to start a website and given my work with the safeguarding board, I want to be part of that.
My support worker knows I am doing this course.
Why oh why am I feeling so overwhelmed by my own life, I can barely breath?
Anyway, I'm bloody late for this thing. Can I cycle to Holborn in 15 minutes? I don't think so...
Fuck fuck fuck stigmum, we could've waited to post all this stuff later...you've made me late late late.....
"Mummy's a bit nervous," I tell him. "Because I'm going to my journalism course today."
"Why are you nervous mummy?"
"Because it's a beginners course."
"So?"
"I used to be a journalist and because I used to be a journalist I shouldn't need to do a beginners course. Because it's a beginners course, the teacher might think that I should be better at it than I am."
"So don't tell her then! D.O.N.T. tell her! Don't tell her!" and with that he pours a bucket of water over my head and giggles that amazing laugh of his I love so much.
It's good advice. It's great advice. It would be fantastic advice if I was going for a paid job.
But holy comoly, even if I didn't blog, these housing events would be really distracting me.
Maybe it would be ok to tell her. I'm doing the course because it's funded by the council's Parent Council.
I think there are plans to start a website and given my work with the safeguarding board, I want to be part of that.
My support worker knows I am doing this course.
Why oh why am I feeling so overwhelmed by my own life, I can barely breath?
Anyway, I'm bloody late for this thing. Can I cycle to Holborn in 15 minutes? I don't think so...
Fuck fuck fuck stigmum, we could've waited to post all this stuff later...you've made me late late late.....
Thursday, 4 February 2010
When writing is SO hard
I spent hours last night trying to do my homework for my basic journalism course tomorrow.
We've been given the chronological events of a story and we have to write it up for a 'tabloid' paper and a 'quality' paper.
I'm supposed to be doing it now goddammit, not fecking blogging, but I can't. It's sooooooooo hard.
I've no experience of these markets, though years ago I did get some features published in a tabloid magazine. The stuff I've sent to 'quality' papers.... well they're not good enough to be even passed to subs for a good clear up and tweak here and there.
I thought Bazza's Boot Camp would clear my head. No chance. Housing, housing, that 'four way' meeting next week, council fucking council. Miraculously my body did as it was told and I got through the class. But flipping hell, while I couldn't stop thinking, I had a thought:
"Stigmum, could you just piss off."
I can write on this blog - badly, not badly it hardly matters. Why can I write? Well because it's not me is it, it's Stigmum.
I am her subject and she knows me back to front and inside out. She's the one who chooses what I write, like this for example.
If I want to write something, I dunno, like scheduling Mad Men and Desperate Housewives at the same time or the ducks dancing on ice on Hampstead pond, it gets passed over for something else.
Right now, I want to do my homework, but she's dragged me on here by the pony tail, because writing, or being a writer has been a topic in blogland this week.
So yes, I'm struggling, really struggling, to write a news story.
I'm also worried I'll make a right dog's ear of it (the Black Dog has descended following yesterday's post so that's a bit of a pun....)
I wish I was like her and didn't give a flying fairy cake what I wrote, but I'm not, I do care. Alot. Because I care, I think. Too much.
"Chill out," she's saying. "It's a basic news writing course. You're doing the right thing. Who cares if you're rubbish, you've been away from it for years. I won't be here forever, you have to start thinking of your future."
I don't like that thought stiggers, you not being here forever.
"Oh you know what I mean. Now switch off your laptop, settle down on the carpet with a pencil and a piece of paper and start with the 'quality' piece. Dash off the 'tabloid' in the morning, you played around with it enough last night. You never know, you may pull off something average and for a beginner's class, that's quite an achievement."
Oh stiggers, what ever would I do without you?
We've been given the chronological events of a story and we have to write it up for a 'tabloid' paper and a 'quality' paper.
I'm supposed to be doing it now goddammit, not fecking blogging, but I can't. It's sooooooooo hard.
I've no experience of these markets, though years ago I did get some features published in a tabloid magazine. The stuff I've sent to 'quality' papers.... well they're not good enough to be even passed to subs for a good clear up and tweak here and there.
I thought Bazza's Boot Camp would clear my head. No chance. Housing, housing, that 'four way' meeting next week, council fucking council. Miraculously my body did as it was told and I got through the class. But flipping hell, while I couldn't stop thinking, I had a thought:
"Stigmum, could you just piss off."
I can write on this blog - badly, not badly it hardly matters. Why can I write? Well because it's not me is it, it's Stigmum.
I am her subject and she knows me back to front and inside out. She's the one who chooses what I write, like this for example.
If I want to write something, I dunno, like scheduling Mad Men and Desperate Housewives at the same time or the ducks dancing on ice on Hampstead pond, it gets passed over for something else.
Right now, I want to do my homework, but she's dragged me on here by the pony tail, because writing, or being a writer has been a topic in blogland this week.
So yes, I'm struggling, really struggling, to write a news story.
I'm also worried I'll make a right dog's ear of it (the Black Dog has descended following yesterday's post so that's a bit of a pun....)
I wish I was like her and didn't give a flying fairy cake what I wrote, but I'm not, I do care. Alot. Because I care, I think. Too much.
"Chill out," she's saying. "It's a basic news writing course. You're doing the right thing. Who cares if you're rubbish, you've been away from it for years. I won't be here forever, you have to start thinking of your future."
I don't like that thought stiggers, you not being here forever.
"Oh you know what I mean. Now switch off your laptop, settle down on the carpet with a pencil and a piece of paper and start with the 'quality' piece. Dash off the 'tabloid' in the morning, you played around with it enough last night. You never know, you may pull off something average and for a beginner's class, that's quite an achievement."
Oh stiggers, what ever would I do without you?
Wednesday, 20 January 2010
A job hunting experiment?
Following yesterday's seminar on the need for social as well as academic skills, I'm rather tempted to send out my CV with just my 'basic' qualification on it. Given that I took O'Levels and not GCSE's (apart from maths, which I had to retake and retake) they will know immediately that I am not a spring chicken, more an autumn peasant, I mean pheasant.
Wow, take eight years away. How do I fill these years actually spent studying for exams (ahem)?
Embellish the jobs I did, I guess. Pretend I did them for longer. There are rather alot of them so it would be good to give them an airing. They never make it onto the required two pages of the curriculum vitae these days.
Now let's see; washer upper in a pub, manufacturer and seller of handmade chocolates, service staff in a self service restaurant, ride operator in an amusement park, cleaner, bar staff, dinner lady, waitress, factory worker, data inputter, telemarketer, telesales, cleaner again (France, that should earn something no?) boat stewardess, call centre operative, teacher, hostess, oh my goodness, forgot - sales assistant, cashier, I'm getting quite depressed now, I don't want to do these jobs again (although teacher... hmm). Luckily I can chuck in some journo stuff. I was so glad when I finally got to that, an end to all those means I thought....
I could expand the time I spent abroad. Pretend I went for that job in Tahiti. Oh silly me that I didn't - I came home to get a 'career' ha ha.
I can squeeze eight years out of that can't I? I'll go for social research jobs obviously. Aim high. I think my experiences lend themselves very well to that; Perhaps I should give myself a chance and aim for some type of voluntary thing, an internship. For motherhood of course, I've been doing that for years, but that's not seen as a proper job. I've been out of work, 'unemployed', for a rather long time. Employers find that off putting.
Yes, I know I'll have to embellish the truth, but it's an experiment remember. How much does a degree matter? In recent years I've had rejections if I'm lucky. Usually they don't get back in touch at all. Such is life but you may know this life, it's not uncommon.
Shall I?
I'm tempted.
I might just re-write the CV and see. But then again, I'm scared of going back to work. Scared I'll miss my son's plays, fun runs, sport days, concerts, class teas, half term, my easter, summer, christmas holiday access with him, he won't like any of that at all either. Bazza's boot camp - that does me so much good....
I'm so extraordinarily good at thinking my way out of good ideas.
Wow, take eight years away. How do I fill these years actually spent studying for exams (ahem)?
Embellish the jobs I did, I guess. Pretend I did them for longer. There are rather alot of them so it would be good to give them an airing. They never make it onto the required two pages of the curriculum vitae these days.
Now let's see; washer upper in a pub, manufacturer and seller of handmade chocolates, service staff in a self service restaurant, ride operator in an amusement park, cleaner, bar staff, dinner lady, waitress, factory worker, data inputter, telemarketer, telesales, cleaner again (France, that should earn something no?) boat stewardess, call centre operative, teacher, hostess, oh my goodness, forgot - sales assistant, cashier, I'm getting quite depressed now, I don't want to do these jobs again (although teacher... hmm). Luckily I can chuck in some journo stuff. I was so glad when I finally got to that, an end to all those means I thought....
I could expand the time I spent abroad. Pretend I went for that job in Tahiti. Oh silly me that I didn't - I came home to get a 'career' ha ha.
I can squeeze eight years out of that can't I? I'll go for social research jobs obviously. Aim high. I think my experiences lend themselves very well to that; Perhaps I should give myself a chance and aim for some type of voluntary thing, an internship. For motherhood of course, I've been doing that for years, but that's not seen as a proper job. I've been out of work, 'unemployed', for a rather long time. Employers find that off putting.
Yes, I know I'll have to embellish the truth, but it's an experiment remember. How much does a degree matter? In recent years I've had rejections if I'm lucky. Usually they don't get back in touch at all. Such is life but you may know this life, it's not uncommon.
Shall I?
I'm tempted.
I might just re-write the CV and see. But then again, I'm scared of going back to work. Scared I'll miss my son's plays, fun runs, sport days, concerts, class teas, half term, my easter, summer, christmas holiday access with him, he won't like any of that at all either. Bazza's boot camp - that does me so much good....
I'm so extraordinarily good at thinking my way out of good ideas.
Should our kids go to university?
I attended an interesting seminar yesterday on new ways to educate our children.
It was hosted by Relate. Yes! The relationships people!
It was called Built to Last: Equipping Children for Real Life.
Too many children, it was argued, are under-educated and over examined. A focus on academics and target testing, has left young people totally unprepared for the world of work. Many are unmotivated, lack self discipline and have little emotional resilience.
An answer is to teach children life skills, or "soft skills". Social mobility is easier with these skills, not just a good handle of English and Maths. Integrate academic and personal development and the child will reap the results. In Finland they've been doing it for years, getting great results.
I had just come from sitting in on half an hour of my son's literacy lesson. All the parents were invited. It was a fun class looking at noun plurals. That's the thing, in my son's school, they do teach the children academics they need to know. They also go off curriculum and teach things that are fun to know. They also have those pshe classes or whatever they're called to teach them 'social intelligence' and 'emotional resilience'.
Parents evening on Monday, his teacher told me he was doing very well at the academic stuff. I was more interested in his social development. "He's kind," she said. "Very helpful and supportive of other pupils. He has a good friendship base." Good to hear, my little baby was isolating himself a year ago. The school's done great work on his 'soft skills' while continuing to challenge his 'hard' academic ones.
My hope is that he can go to a secondary like this.
Schools get only 20% of our children's time. The panel were saying that there is currently a failure to deal with what children get from their 'informal' curriculum. Television predominantly - the X Factor and the National Lottery play high on their expectations of a financially positive future. Programmes such as Waterloo Road has broken barriers between teacher and pupil, the latter now seeing teachers as "real people with real lives". (At my son's school the children call the teachers by their first name. My friends with kids in school think this is really wierd and doesn't foster respect, but I've found the opposite)
It was mentioned that embedding social skills doesn't deteriorate academic training. A shame the example given here was a boy's boarding school. The private sector of course, has much smaller classes. At boarding schools the kids don't go home at 3.30. It's harder to play truant; you need to runaway, like my fellow kicked out chum did.
Relate, the relationship people, are entering schools now. They see problems kids have at home, with a parent, a step parent. "They are often ill-equipped for the world of work. Too many people lack relationships of value in their lives."
They believe schools should turn out "relational competence" in kids. "The key skill by those who do succeed is relatedness. One good relationship can act as a catalyst for opportunity."
There was a fear from some listening that by putting 'soft skills' high on the agenda, schools in the sector would turn their backs on academics.
What was agreed is that success is not based on social background. Yes, I would, um, agree with that, public school dropout that I am...
"Qualifications will be essential," said a panellist, "but show us what you've done." Anyone seeking a job in a creative sector would need a portfolio. Show articles they'd written, videos they'd shot etc. "Basic qualifications are an underpinning and needs a broader experience on top."
I wanted to know what a 'basic qualification' was these days. I wanted to ask if all kids should go to university. Now that so many go, what employer is going to take notice of a CV that doesn't have that 'basic' qualification on it followed by all the rest; the volunteering, the 'work experience', the 'internships' - all the things you do for free.
I was too shy to raise my arm. I thought the question might be a bit silly compared to everyone elses.
The foca didn't go to uni and his life is way way way more successful than mine with my two degrees. We were last century kids though. As the land lies now, I'll tell my son I'll support his choices. Things may be very different in a decade.
It was a great seminar, interesting, loads of examples of educational programmes being tried out in this country and America. What will get rolled out nationally so all kids can benefit?
Can the UK, currently bottom of a Unicef report on children's wellbeing, churn out a nation of self motivated, self disciplined, socially intelligent. responsible children?
What do you think?
(I was going to post about this last night, while it was all fresh, but housing reared it's ugly head. Forgive me if it comes across all garbled)
It was hosted by Relate. Yes! The relationships people!
It was called Built to Last: Equipping Children for Real Life.
Too many children, it was argued, are under-educated and over examined. A focus on academics and target testing, has left young people totally unprepared for the world of work. Many are unmotivated, lack self discipline and have little emotional resilience.
An answer is to teach children life skills, or "soft skills". Social mobility is easier with these skills, not just a good handle of English and Maths. Integrate academic and personal development and the child will reap the results. In Finland they've been doing it for years, getting great results.
I had just come from sitting in on half an hour of my son's literacy lesson. All the parents were invited. It was a fun class looking at noun plurals. That's the thing, in my son's school, they do teach the children academics they need to know. They also go off curriculum and teach things that are fun to know. They also have those pshe classes or whatever they're called to teach them 'social intelligence' and 'emotional resilience'.
Parents evening on Monday, his teacher told me he was doing very well at the academic stuff. I was more interested in his social development. "He's kind," she said. "Very helpful and supportive of other pupils. He has a good friendship base." Good to hear, my little baby was isolating himself a year ago. The school's done great work on his 'soft skills' while continuing to challenge his 'hard' academic ones.
My hope is that he can go to a secondary like this.
Schools get only 20% of our children's time. The panel were saying that there is currently a failure to deal with what children get from their 'informal' curriculum. Television predominantly - the X Factor and the National Lottery play high on their expectations of a financially positive future. Programmes such as Waterloo Road has broken barriers between teacher and pupil, the latter now seeing teachers as "real people with real lives". (At my son's school the children call the teachers by their first name. My friends with kids in school think this is really wierd and doesn't foster respect, but I've found the opposite)
It was mentioned that embedding social skills doesn't deteriorate academic training. A shame the example given here was a boy's boarding school. The private sector of course, has much smaller classes. At boarding schools the kids don't go home at 3.30. It's harder to play truant; you need to runaway, like my fellow kicked out chum did.
Relate, the relationship people, are entering schools now. They see problems kids have at home, with a parent, a step parent. "They are often ill-equipped for the world of work. Too many people lack relationships of value in their lives."
They believe schools should turn out "relational competence" in kids. "The key skill by those who do succeed is relatedness. One good relationship can act as a catalyst for opportunity."
There was a fear from some listening that by putting 'soft skills' high on the agenda, schools in the sector would turn their backs on academics.
What was agreed is that success is not based on social background. Yes, I would, um, agree with that, public school dropout that I am...
"Qualifications will be essential," said a panellist, "but show us what you've done." Anyone seeking a job in a creative sector would need a portfolio. Show articles they'd written, videos they'd shot etc. "Basic qualifications are an underpinning and needs a broader experience on top."
I wanted to know what a 'basic qualification' was these days. I wanted to ask if all kids should go to university. Now that so many go, what employer is going to take notice of a CV that doesn't have that 'basic' qualification on it followed by all the rest; the volunteering, the 'work experience', the 'internships' - all the things you do for free.
I was too shy to raise my arm. I thought the question might be a bit silly compared to everyone elses.
The foca didn't go to uni and his life is way way way more successful than mine with my two degrees. We were last century kids though. As the land lies now, I'll tell my son I'll support his choices. Things may be very different in a decade.
It was a great seminar, interesting, loads of examples of educational programmes being tried out in this country and America. What will get rolled out nationally so all kids can benefit?
Can the UK, currently bottom of a Unicef report on children's wellbeing, churn out a nation of self motivated, self disciplined, socially intelligent. responsible children?
What do you think?
(I was going to post about this last night, while it was all fresh, but housing reared it's ugly head. Forgive me if it comes across all garbled)
Thursday, 1 October 2009
The end of participatory appraisal?
Today was our last participatory appraisal meeting for the work we did for the Safeguarding Children Board. I almost didn't want to go because I don't want it to end so good it's been.
It was great to see everyone, so wholly crap I am at keeping in touch with them. We were there to amend or add to the 'Stakeholders' opinions we retrieved for the report that's been written up. Our man from God's Own Country said my parent's perspective was good, which was good! I told him not to put my name to it, though now thinking why would I do that if I want a job one day? Durr.
What's been very cool about this research is that if the policy deciders didn't know how to resolve a problem, like people's fear of the police or social workers for example, we made them think about it. Change might come about from all this, in Camden anyway. I still find it so flipping exciting.
Like our Leader said "It's not about money, there's a huge gap in our society and the more we can enable that bridge to be gapped, the better our society will be."
Top isn't it? What people like you and me think of services and what those service providers think of their own. Then change, change, change....
They put a lovely spread on for lunch, and I duly stuffed myself, then we were asked if any of us wanted to go to the Town Hall in a few weeks to present the report to the people we interviewed. I said I would. Yep, yesterday I was lying on a sofa with burning eyelids, today I was feeling energised. Ah housing housing, rid me of the housing housing once and for all.....
It was great to see everyone, so wholly crap I am at keeping in touch with them. We were there to amend or add to the 'Stakeholders' opinions we retrieved for the report that's been written up. Our man from God's Own Country said my parent's perspective was good, which was good! I told him not to put my name to it, though now thinking why would I do that if I want a job one day? Durr.
What's been very cool about this research is that if the policy deciders didn't know how to resolve a problem, like people's fear of the police or social workers for example, we made them think about it. Change might come about from all this, in Camden anyway. I still find it so flipping exciting.
Like our Leader said "It's not about money, there's a huge gap in our society and the more we can enable that bridge to be gapped, the better our society will be."
Top isn't it? What people like you and me think of services and what those service providers think of their own. Then change, change, change....
They put a lovely spread on for lunch, and I duly stuffed myself, then we were asked if any of us wanted to go to the Town Hall in a few weeks to present the report to the people we interviewed. I said I would. Yep, yesterday I was lying on a sofa with burning eyelids, today I was feeling energised. Ah housing housing, rid me of the housing housing once and for all.....
Wednesday, 15 July 2009
Doors that swing
It's been a merry little mental/emotional upheaval for me the last few days so what an absolute delight, to go into my inbox and read two very opportunistic emails.
My participatory appraisal people have asked if I would like to write in the report about our community research ; a parents' perspective of the training. Would I? Would I?! Give me a deadline sir! He even said I might get paid. £50! Do you know that's the cost of becoming a temporary member of the NUJ?!
Jab has also sent me information regarding a basics journalism course. It's set up by those working for the council's parent magazine. It says its for those with no experience. I have some, and I've just finished a journalism course as you know but I'm going to call the woman anyway. Nothing like starting again, nothing like moving forward, nothing like opportunistic emails in one's inbox!!
My participatory appraisal people have asked if I would like to write in the report about our community research ; a parents' perspective of the training. Would I? Would I?! Give me a deadline sir! He even said I might get paid. £50! Do you know that's the cost of becoming a temporary member of the NUJ?!
Jab has also sent me information regarding a basics journalism course. It's set up by those working for the council's parent magazine. It says its for those with no experience. I have some, and I've just finished a journalism course as you know but I'm going to call the woman anyway. Nothing like starting again, nothing like moving forward, nothing like opportunistic emails in one's inbox!!
Monday, 22 June 2009
Interviews beginning
As part of the Participatory Appraisal social research volunteering I'm doing, the interviews of all the 'stakeholders' begin today.
First up is the head of Camden's Children's Schools and Families. Next week I've said I'll interview the chief superintendent of police.
Dee's done alot of prep for this morning. Bumped into Billie yesterday who's coming, it should be good. The first step's always the hardest. I'm nervous but I'm with some great gals!
First up is the head of Camden's Children's Schools and Families. Next week I've said I'll interview the chief superintendent of police.
Dee's done alot of prep for this morning. Bumped into Billie yesterday who's coming, it should be good. The first step's always the hardest. I'm nervous but I'm with some great gals!
Friday, 8 May 2009
Fieldwork results
It was good to be reunited with my participatory appraisal training mates yesterday. When the facilitators asked how I was, I took the opening lines of Fascinating Aida's I Like Me song.
"I'm feeling dejected, downcast and depressed," I said, not looking or sounding particularly dejected, downcast or depressed. "Oh housing, didn't get the flat I bid on," I explained in response to their query. One told me I looked great. "Makeup!" I smiled, but I didn't burst into song.
Dee was there! Billie couldn't make it as she's volunteering at a school. Fifi (I hope she doesn't mind me calling her Fifi...) came over and sat beside me. She has three children, one of whom is doing her gcse's, though you wouldn't guess it as Fifi doesn't look a day over 21.
We gathered to talk about our fieldwork results and to organise ourselves into teams to go and interview 'stake holders' - the executives working for the police, social services, nhs etc.
What we discovered about the communities we spoke to is that hardly anyone has heard about, or knows anything about safeguarding services. There's a lack of awareness about where to go for information and difficulties in accessing information. There is also a deep mistrust of some service providers.
We are now going to talk to these service providers, though not front line staff, and ask them why people can't access information or services and how they can improve on this.
I don't care who I interview but the facilitators thought it would be best if I wasn't part of the team talking to the managing director of 'Housing and Adult Social Care'. They are quite right as there is a need for me to be impartial, not reach over a desk and lamp the person if they claim to be helping people. I can always make enquiries of my own....
I'm in a team with Dee and Billie again. I told Dee not to get the giggles and set me off. I do love those two women. They have been friends so long they bounce off eachother in very funny ways.
After these interviews have been collated a report will be written up. I have asked if I can help with this and the facilitators have said yes! Whoopee for me!
As for Fascinating Aida's song, it's SO good!!
The beginning goes like this:
I was feeling dejected, downcast and depressed
The world was my clam shell, I'd run out of zest,
All alone with no-one to caaaaaaaaaaaaare.
The people I worked with were all
self obsessed
And beneath the facade you'd never have guessed
I was poised on the brink of despair
Then out of the blue
It all fell into place
The answer was staring me
right
in
the
face (ping ping on the piano)
I like me!
I like the me that I see when I brushing my teeth in the morning
I like me
I find we always agree
It's the others who set out from yawning
Who is the sweetest, completest companion by far?
Moi!
Who do I long to be with more than justement en peu?
Je!
And on it goes, fantastically! Go to their website (www.fascinatingaida.co.uk), listen to the whole thing and others, go to a show! I so want to go to their show!
"I'm feeling dejected, downcast and depressed," I said, not looking or sounding particularly dejected, downcast or depressed. "Oh housing, didn't get the flat I bid on," I explained in response to their query. One told me I looked great. "Makeup!" I smiled, but I didn't burst into song.
Dee was there! Billie couldn't make it as she's volunteering at a school. Fifi (I hope she doesn't mind me calling her Fifi...) came over and sat beside me. She has three children, one of whom is doing her gcse's, though you wouldn't guess it as Fifi doesn't look a day over 21.
We gathered to talk about our fieldwork results and to organise ourselves into teams to go and interview 'stake holders' - the executives working for the police, social services, nhs etc.
What we discovered about the communities we spoke to is that hardly anyone has heard about, or knows anything about safeguarding services. There's a lack of awareness about where to go for information and difficulties in accessing information. There is also a deep mistrust of some service providers.
We are now going to talk to these service providers, though not front line staff, and ask them why people can't access information or services and how they can improve on this.
I don't care who I interview but the facilitators thought it would be best if I wasn't part of the team talking to the managing director of 'Housing and Adult Social Care'. They are quite right as there is a need for me to be impartial, not reach over a desk and lamp the person if they claim to be helping people. I can always make enquiries of my own....
I'm in a team with Dee and Billie again. I told Dee not to get the giggles and set me off. I do love those two women. They have been friends so long they bounce off eachother in very funny ways.
After these interviews have been collated a report will be written up. I have asked if I can help with this and the facilitators have said yes! Whoopee for me!
As for Fascinating Aida's song, it's SO good!!
The beginning goes like this:
I was feeling dejected, downcast and depressed
The world was my clam shell, I'd run out of zest,
All alone with no-one to caaaaaaaaaaaaare.
The people I worked with were all
self obsessed
And beneath the facade you'd never have guessed
I was poised on the brink of despair
Then out of the blue
It all fell into place
The answer was staring me
right
in
the
face (ping ping on the piano)
I like me!
I like the me that I see when I brushing my teeth in the morning
I like me
I find we always agree
It's the others who set out from yawning
Who is the sweetest, completest companion by far?
Moi!
Who do I long to be with more than justement en peu?
Je!
And on it goes, fantastically! Go to their website (www.fascinatingaida.co.uk), listen to the whole thing and others, go to a show! I so want to go to their show!
Tuesday, 5 May 2009
A step back, a move forward?
I've signed up for a freelance journalism course.
I gave up my fledgling journalistic career years ago after I became a story I couldn't write.
Post Masters, with jobs in scant supply, waiting for the cheaper rent of a council property, I want something to do.
My teacher is very good. A successful journalist herself, she imparts her knowledge and wisdom to the rest of us.
Last week she assassinated my copy. This is good. This is why I'm doing the course. To learn.
It was copy about housing. This week we have to come up with a feature idea. I am not going to write something about housing and homeless people and life on benefits or any of that depressing stuff.
That's because in the future I won't want to dwell on that although at this juncture that's impossible to say. It's hard for me to think outside the situation I am in, it so dominates my life.
Tonight I'm going to think outside my navel. I may change my name to help the ideas along.
I dunno, something like "Grains are good for you'' by Henrietta Loafe or "Camping in the Lake District" by Summer Wether.
Freelancing is tricky when husband is the state so this really is the future when I...?
I gave up my fledgling journalistic career years ago after I became a story I couldn't write.
Post Masters, with jobs in scant supply, waiting for the cheaper rent of a council property, I want something to do.
My teacher is very good. A successful journalist herself, she imparts her knowledge and wisdom to the rest of us.
Last week she assassinated my copy. This is good. This is why I'm doing the course. To learn.
It was copy about housing. This week we have to come up with a feature idea. I am not going to write something about housing and homeless people and life on benefits or any of that depressing stuff.
That's because in the future I won't want to dwell on that although at this juncture that's impossible to say. It's hard for me to think outside the situation I am in, it so dominates my life.
Tonight I'm going to think outside my navel. I may change my name to help the ideas along.
I dunno, something like "Grains are good for you'' by Henrietta Loafe or "Camping in the Lake District" by Summer Wether.
Freelancing is tricky when husband is the state so this really is the future when I...?
Tuesday, 31 March 2009
Nutty Presentations
Today was the day we had to gather all our fieldwork research and present it to Camden's Children's Safeguarding Board.
Billie, Dee and I were nervous to say the least. Billie and Dee didn't feel we had enough results while I told them that no results were a result in itself.
We had to find out what people thought of safeguarding services in their communities. That was our remit.
"What is safeguarding?" we asked parents at a drop in.
"Never heard of it."
"What safeguarding services do you use?"
"Don't know what you mean."
We'd leave with little information on the diagrams we drew for them to fill in, Dee wanting to make up the answers and me arguing "No, that's valid. No-one knows, why don't they know?"
By Saturday when we went to a children's soft play arena, we'd altered our approach.
"Where do you go for information regarding services in your community designed for keeping people safe?"
Few said social services, many said police.
"What do you think about them?"
Reams of answers.
Today we presented the whole lot.
We were given an hour in which we could organise our thoughts which was a good thing as yesterday I couldn't meet Dee due to my bicycle puncture and her need to take her young charge home for lunch (Dee is a childminder).
Part One
What was our plan?
What was our timeline?
What tools did we use?
What roles did we take?
Part Two
What went well?
What went wrong?
Part Three
What did we find out?
The first group went up. "We are the Happy Group"
Billie and Dee looked at me. I whispered: "Fuck." We hadn't thought of one.
Happy Group's presentation was clearly set out with diagrams outlining where they had been, how many people they spoke to, who used which tool, and how they evaluated the answers.
On large sheets of paper lists were written detailing what went wrong, what was successful, and another large sheet outlined their results in big, bold writing.
We had drawn a map of where we went, a timeline of when we went there and drew a spider diagram of the strengths and weaknesses of our approach. So far so good. We'd left no time to list our results so all we had was the scrawl I'd written last night in light blue ink on a sheet of A4. Better than nothing I guess.
"No-one knew what safeguarding was," said Happy Group.
"See," I nudged Billie. "It's ok."
Happy Group had gathered alot of information from the Somali Group and the Faith Group they had facilitated. There wasn't time to hear what those results were but hopefully we'll see them later.
We were up next. "What shall we call ourselves?" asked Dee.
"Wing It Group," I said.
"Eh?" they chorused.
"Nutcase Group?"
"Nutty Group" said Dee, and that was that.
We were up.
Dee began to describe our map and then began to giggle. This set me off and within seconds there we both were, infront of our 'examiners', unable to stop laughing, and trying to was futile. Billie had no choice but to take control (We did work exceptionally well as a team, I have to say). Pretty soon Dee and I had pulled ourselves together and the three of us were talking one on top of the other as we explained our experiences. Comparitive to the Happy Group, we were Nutty indeed.
I pointed out that in the drop in no parents mentioned the police but in the soft play arena they all did. The degree of negativity towards them were largely based on where people lived and fear of the police was largely based on 'class'. It was also impossible to say all parents felt the same way because there was such a tremendous mix. Some had no English, others were childcare professionals. All this had to be taken into account.
"Did no-one mention Baby P?" asked one of the examiners.
"No. We didn't elicit that information from them and by and large they answered the questions according to their own children and their own children's needs - 'my child is safe because I take him to this drop in'."
The third group didn't give themselves a name. They'd encountered lots of barriers to their fieldwork with drop in managers not allowing them access to interview the parents. Minnie had done her research with her baby group. They passed round their results most of which gave a view of social services. Trust gets families talking about social services, in my experience. There's a real stigma attached to it.
So many people wanted access to more information about safeguarding services.
It was good fun. It was interesting. It was over! For now.... In May we reconvene to discuss what questions we can ask service providers given the information we now have. The police and social services will be top of the list I imagine.
Did you know, according to United Nations research, the UK has one of the lowest scores for safeguarding children?
Time that changed don't you think?
Billie, Dee and I were nervous to say the least. Billie and Dee didn't feel we had enough results while I told them that no results were a result in itself.
We had to find out what people thought of safeguarding services in their communities. That was our remit.
"What is safeguarding?" we asked parents at a drop in.
"Never heard of it."
"What safeguarding services do you use?"
"Don't know what you mean."
We'd leave with little information on the diagrams we drew for them to fill in, Dee wanting to make up the answers and me arguing "No, that's valid. No-one knows, why don't they know?"
By Saturday when we went to a children's soft play arena, we'd altered our approach.
"Where do you go for information regarding services in your community designed for keeping people safe?"
Few said social services, many said police.
"What do you think about them?"
Reams of answers.
Today we presented the whole lot.
We were given an hour in which we could organise our thoughts which was a good thing as yesterday I couldn't meet Dee due to my bicycle puncture and her need to take her young charge home for lunch (Dee is a childminder).
Part One
What was our plan?
What was our timeline?
What tools did we use?
What roles did we take?
Part Two
What went well?
What went wrong?
Part Three
What did we find out?
The first group went up. "We are the Happy Group"
Billie and Dee looked at me. I whispered: "Fuck." We hadn't thought of one.
Happy Group's presentation was clearly set out with diagrams outlining where they had been, how many people they spoke to, who used which tool, and how they evaluated the answers.
On large sheets of paper lists were written detailing what went wrong, what was successful, and another large sheet outlined their results in big, bold writing.
We had drawn a map of where we went, a timeline of when we went there and drew a spider diagram of the strengths and weaknesses of our approach. So far so good. We'd left no time to list our results so all we had was the scrawl I'd written last night in light blue ink on a sheet of A4. Better than nothing I guess.
"No-one knew what safeguarding was," said Happy Group.
"See," I nudged Billie. "It's ok."
Happy Group had gathered alot of information from the Somali Group and the Faith Group they had facilitated. There wasn't time to hear what those results were but hopefully we'll see them later.
We were up next. "What shall we call ourselves?" asked Dee.
"Wing It Group," I said.
"Eh?" they chorused.
"Nutcase Group?"
"Nutty Group" said Dee, and that was that.
We were up.
Dee began to describe our map and then began to giggle. This set me off and within seconds there we both were, infront of our 'examiners', unable to stop laughing, and trying to was futile. Billie had no choice but to take control (We did work exceptionally well as a team, I have to say). Pretty soon Dee and I had pulled ourselves together and the three of us were talking one on top of the other as we explained our experiences. Comparitive to the Happy Group, we were Nutty indeed.
I pointed out that in the drop in no parents mentioned the police but in the soft play arena they all did. The degree of negativity towards them were largely based on where people lived and fear of the police was largely based on 'class'. It was also impossible to say all parents felt the same way because there was such a tremendous mix. Some had no English, others were childcare professionals. All this had to be taken into account.
"Did no-one mention Baby P?" asked one of the examiners.
"No. We didn't elicit that information from them and by and large they answered the questions according to their own children and their own children's needs - 'my child is safe because I take him to this drop in'."
The third group didn't give themselves a name. They'd encountered lots of barriers to their fieldwork with drop in managers not allowing them access to interview the parents. Minnie had done her research with her baby group. They passed round their results most of which gave a view of social services. Trust gets families talking about social services, in my experience. There's a real stigma attached to it.
So many people wanted access to more information about safeguarding services.
It was good fun. It was interesting. It was over! For now.... In May we reconvene to discuss what questions we can ask service providers given the information we now have. The police and social services will be top of the list I imagine.
Did you know, according to United Nations research, the UK has one of the lowest scores for safeguarding children?
Time that changed don't you think?
Wednesday, 18 March 2009
Teamwork
The Participatory Appraisal training is over. Now we have to go out and do fieldwork. We have to go out within our communities and find out what people think of safeguarding services. Safeguarding, if you don't know what it means which is fine if you don't as before last week I didn't, is the protection of vulnerable people - children, old people, lots of people. In PA, teams of three work best - one facilitator, one observer and one 'anti-saboteur'.
Billie and Dee, long term friends, grabbed me, presumably on the assumption that I look like I know what to do. In theory I should; ex journo, ex masters, research is my middle name.... Though most probably they reached for me because we have things in common, we listen to one another, we empathise or laugh.
I bump into Billie in the loos after we've done our planning.
"God I'm nervous," I tell her.
"Yeah me too, I'm so nervous, why is no-one else nervous?"
"Mad isn't it?" I laugh, nervously.
There's a fourth in our group because of the odd number in class. Beth has done it before but the mum of three works so won't be around when the rest of us make tits of ourselves.
No we won't. We'll be fine. That's the good thing about teamwork; one person's weakness is another person's strength and this kind of thing, armed with sheets of paper and strips of stickers, post-it notes and coloured pens, at least holds the promise of being good fun.
Billie and Dee, long term friends, grabbed me, presumably on the assumption that I look like I know what to do. In theory I should; ex journo, ex masters, research is my middle name.... Though most probably they reached for me because we have things in common, we listen to one another, we empathise or laugh.
I bump into Billie in the loos after we've done our planning.
"God I'm nervous," I tell her.
"Yeah me too, I'm so nervous, why is no-one else nervous?"
"Mad isn't it?" I laugh, nervously.
There's a fourth in our group because of the odd number in class. Beth has done it before but the mum of three works so won't be around when the rest of us make tits of ourselves.
No we won't. We'll be fine. That's the good thing about teamwork; one person's weakness is another person's strength and this kind of thing, armed with sheets of paper and strips of stickers, post-it notes and coloured pens, at least holds the promise of being good fun.
Monday, 16 March 2009
Melting pots
We are two facilitators and 14 parents doing the participatory appraisal training. What I love about it is the ancestory in the room. In the pot you'll find America, the Bahamas, Bangladesh, England, France, Jamaica, Mauritius, Nepal, Portugal, Scotland, Somalia, Syria and Uganda.
Some are parents born and bred in London.
Others are born and bred in the UK.
Some are not born here but bred.
Some neither born nor bred.
For me this is England.
I got culture shock when I went to visit my friend Emma in Hertford and all the workers in Sainsbury's were white. I couldn't stop staring. It seemed like another country.
I won't be voting BNP anytime soon, ever in fact. This despite the housing crisis I am caught in, despite the jealousy I sometimes feel towards those who go before me.
Jealousy is not one of the seven deadly sins. We are all entitled to a decent home.
Some are parents born and bred in London.
Others are born and bred in the UK.
Some are not born here but bred.
Some neither born nor bred.
For me this is England.
I got culture shock when I went to visit my friend Emma in Hertford and all the workers in Sainsbury's were white. I couldn't stop staring. It seemed like another country.
I won't be voting BNP anytime soon, ever in fact. This despite the housing crisis I am caught in, despite the jealousy I sometimes feel towards those who go before me.
Jealousy is not one of the seven deadly sins. We are all entitled to a decent home.
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