Bylines

Journo Gal asked me yesterday under which name I wanted my article bylined.

I said mine. Sod it. (Ok I didn't say sod it, that's just how I felt)

Stiggers has been asking me this morning why I didn't use hers. It makes sense of course because she's been published before. It's a continuation of her story.

The wider story is the national problem, I told her, and felt I had to enter the debate.

This morning I've been reading all the single mother bashing on the boards as the Guardian has run a story on single mothers being forced back to work.

Oh it's quite frightful. We're 'scroungers', we're 'bums', we're 'lazy', we should go back to work instead of living on 'state handouts'. Oh you might get the picture.

There's a woman called Myrtle. I don't think she is a stigmum, she doesn't say, only at one point mentioning "us" which isn't erm, us. Anyway, she's fighting our corner with intelligent, articulate comments, being accused of being "far left" by some mother-bashing bloke. There is a little mother on mother bashing on there you can be sure, of the 'I'm doing it so why can't they' variety, but that just saddens me. My point is: Thank you Myrtle.

Back to bylines, perhaps yes, it should be you stiggers. Or should I just brace myself and allow a thousand darts be thrown at my name?

Because I am going to get a job you know. Just as soon as the housing's sorted. And yes, I am bricking it because just this morning my son was saying how he really didn't want to go to the art workshop, he wanted to spend time with me.

"It's only two more days," I told him.

Fast forward next summer: "It's only six more weeks." (If I can find and afford a day centre for him)

Bridges crossing bridges crossing bridges crossing

The Guardian's not published my piece. Yet.

What should we do stiggers?