Managed to meet Norman Lamb this week. In an Indian restaurant. There were some fairies working behind the scenes on this (thank you). Unfortunately, by the time I got to sit next to him, I was well into my second pint of lager [Rich and I don’t get out much these days] and hadn’t given a thought about what to say.
“You know that young man who drowned in an assessment unit last summer? I’m his mum…” I started.
“Yes…I do… well, er, talk me through what happened again,” said our Norm, looking a tiny bit caught on the hoof.
“You don’t know about him, do you?” I said. “How could you not know about him?” Blubfest approaching, I started to fill him in on the briefest details but then he remembered. He did know. He’d been in a meeting where what happened was discussed that day.
And he was off. Full of rage, passion and commitment to getting people out of these terrible spaces that were considered their homes by so many commissioners, local authorities and others. By the time swears were appearing I thought ‘You’ve got it mate’ and left him to eat his curry.
“I’m sorry I didn’t immediately remember LB,’ he said, as I got up to go. “I have quite a wide remit and cover a lot of things.”
“Yeah, I understand that.” I said. “He’s the top of our list though”.