Another full on week. Thursday morning, the Private Members’ Bill ballot. Thursday afternoon, there was a meeting of the Expert Reference Group for the ongoing Mazars death review. This review, commissioned by the Real David Nicholson before his retirement from NHS England, was viewed as a tick box exercise by some. Sigh.
Friday morning we had an intense and, in places, deeply sad meeting in London talking through legal stuff. There was a bit of swearing, a box of tissues and a shedload of sensitivity.
Tonight we went for some nosh to celebrate Rosie moving to Bristol before starting her first full time job. On the way home, she was chuckling about the time I dipped back into the St Giles fair on my way back from a meeting a few years ago to have another cheeky go on the coin pushing machine. Apparently Tom texted me asking where I was and what was for tea, sending me into a spin about being a rubbish mother.
“You did what?” said Rich. “I didn’t know about that! Marge Simpson is a secret gambler…”
Setting aside what OCC would have made of this story in their craphole review, I just want to say; Good on yer, Rosie. It’s a fab job, brilliant opportunity and you bloody deserve it.
Actually Sara you sound like a great mother. One with a sense of humour. The best sort of mother to have. It is the mums who crow on about how many sacrifices they have made for their children who fall short.
My son who has quite complex needs and has surprised us all over the years on how intuitive he can be. He has taught me that the staff who gush all over us when we visited his day centre (that was when it was open and he actually went there) were really self promoting themselves. One look at my son’s face told us that he was not really impressed with them. We found that the few staff that actually came quietly over and chatted normally where the ones he enjoyed being with the most. His face said it all.