Tonight I heard the saddest news. It took me back to a train journey. From Canterbury to Oxford over three years now. When I heard that LB’s classmate had been sectioned and taken out of county to a unit miles away. Aged 16. I had a right old blub on that train. It seemed so brutal. So wrong. My heart broke for the cute tot who had legendary status in our family folklore. And his family. How could these kids be failed so badly? Despite the gargantuan efforts of parents?

And then LB went into a unit. With an unimaginable outcome.

LB died 17 months ago now. And there is still no effective support. Services/professionals miss the point, don’t have the knowledge, skills or ability to read the writing on the wall, or respond to it.

Time to call it as it is. Surely?