Today LB’s grave was looking beautiful in the spring sunshine howl, I pretty much finished my patch for the justice quilt (bit wonky but every stitch imbued with love and memories) and a couple more remarkable days were pledged on #107days. 107 days fit to bursting with complete wondrousness in so, so many ways. Action, in any shape or form. Big or small. Individual, collective. Just action.
Action.
Rumour is, we may be making some progress. The tanker (of some change) may be turning. Our bar is, as ever, in the realm of anything learning disability related, set to below zero. A shameful, shameful position of expecting nothing. But word is that relevant people may be listening. That what has become visible since and because of LB’s death is a little bit too much to sweep aside and ignore howl. Here’s hoping…
In the meantime, you can get involved in the campaign here. And our (completely voluntary) campaign manager, the indomitable George Julian is plotting to shave her head.
We need to keep that tanker turning.
mydaftlife 
We talked about LB at the office today. A room full of social workers sharing their despair at the desperate lack of quality provision, ambivalence from managers that have the power to change things and the dreaded outcome of a young man that died.
Good. Here’s hoping there were some direct actions that will feed into real change…
Gently applying pressure. Promise. x