Last week's bidding

Nothing near me this week. There were a couple of places, in blocks, near where Milly lives. It would be so nice to live near her but I'd have to change my son's school. You know I don't want to do that.

Living near A, A, A, A, A, C, D, E, E, M, R, S, and their kids wouldn't change things much; some of the children are at school with my son. I tend to bid around there anyway; widens the scope as it were.

Staying in this community; the newsagent, mini market, lauderette, hairdresser, Beavers, coffee shop, all the people we've befriended in five years, wouldn't change things at all for my son! I could start getting better! I could really start to look forward!

The winner last week, waiting since 2008, 286 points.

The other, less time, more points.

All of them, always, less time than me and my son.

I'm not a Lady Mr N, I'm a Mother

Everyone’s Entitled To A Home

399 points to my 351
Her daughter has points
Three years in a hostel
“No way PRS”
Just like me
five years in my flat.
“A Somalian mother got a place
She’s only been here two years,”
she said.
“13 years I’ve lived here.”
I understood everything
but I felt myself getting angry.
Why my son has no points?
“13 years?” I said.
“I was born here.”

The title of this post refers to a comment by Mr N in the paper that carried my story. In it he says my son and I will not get a secure tenancy. The title of the poem (?) is the original one.

One must never give up Hope

Thanks to my chance meeting with the Libdem Party Leader, I met his Party Pal on Saturday. Nice guy. He said he'd look into things for me. I wrote him a four page review of mine and my son's situation. At the end I put what I hoped for:
More points to obtain that elusive secure tenancy.
Can we try the exceptions panel again?

Me and Allocations have been emailing each other. Again, too long to transpose on to here. Support Worker, Lease End, Quality and Tory are cc'd onto those. I've never met Allocations, nor she me. It's quite funny; we've been in communication for years. I wonder what she looks like.

I spoke to a friendly woman on the phone this morning. She said unfortunately she couldn't help me but suggested I stop "looking at the inherent inequalities" of the system and "look to get [myself] on the ladder."

Yes, in this game, I keep sliding down snakes. Snakes aren't people but policy.

I've just bin cotton pickin' unlucky. It makes me angry sometimes. I still haven't cried.

Being in the Eye of things

I am in the Eye of Fear
I am in the Eye of Desire
I am in a Land of Ice
I am in a Land of Fire
Fury is bedfellows with Peace

Still I write
but I may not blog it all
At least I am writing
I know how it feels to do nothing
but listen to Radio 2

At least that's something
Shall I do a PHD?
Home
Home Sweet Home
Things will be clearer
when I get there

Visit to the doctor No 5

"I'm worried, you haven't moved on at all. I'll get back in touch with your shrink assessor."
"Can you get me a social worker to talk to the council on my behalf?"
"You'll have to do that yourself."

I know only one who I can trust. She helped me once before.

Que sera sera....

(Very quickly, I've said it before but I'll say it again: The School of Doris accepts people of all faiths, ethnicities, gender and age. There, I told you I'd be quick)

I am my son's mother!

I am my son's mother!
I am his mother and I love him!
Even in the dark I know I am his mother
Even in the dark I know I must feed him

I am my son's mother!
I am his mother and I love him!
Even in the dark I can play with him
Another round of BaseTeddy? Sure!

I am my son's mother!
I am his mother and I love him!
In the dark he is my sun
In the light he is my sun too

I am luckier than those parents who let their children die. RIP Jasmine Bellfield (Sunday Mirror 21/02/10) RIP Khyra Ishaq (Guardian 26/2/10) RIP Lily Bellinger and her mum too (Mirror 1/3/10)

Upon reflection

It takes years to come out of a mental illness, possibly because the initial damage is so old.