Category Archives: Laughing boy tales

Scrap metal

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This week, LB shifted his attention to scrap metal. A break from Irish lorries but with worse sound effects on youtube. He also came back from his dad’s with a toolkit containing a hammer and screwdriver.

Last night, there was a terrible crashing noise upstairs. He’d put his die cast models (some limited edition) in a pile and was hammering the screwdriver into them.

“Whoa! Stoppit LB! What are you doing?????”
“Making scrap metal Mum.”
“Well you gotta stoppit matey. Now!”
“Why Mum?”
“Because I said so! You’ll ruin them!”

“Blimey,” I said to Rich, sitting back downstairs, “Model enthusiasts would be weeping if they saw that…”

Then I started wondering why he should stop bashing them.

LB and the coffee morning

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“Hey, you going to the coffee morning again tomorrow LB?”
“Yes Mum.”
“Where’s it held?”
“In the church Mum.”
“Wow. Do you meet people there?”
“Yes Mum.”
“Who do you meet there?”
“Old people Mum.”
“Oh. Do you know any of their names?”
“Barbara Mum. And the other old people.”
“That’s nice. Do you talk to them?”
“Yes Mum.”
“What do you talk about?”
“Old people stuff Mum.”
“What’s old people stuff? Tell me something you talk about?”
“Getting older Mum.”

LB and the school bully

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“LOCK HIM UP. LOCK HIM UP AND THROW AWAY THE KEY!
HE’S AGGRESSIVE.
HE’S A DANGER TO SOCIETY.
HE’S A BULLY.
HE’S CLINICALLY INSANE.
AND.. AND… AND…HE WATCHES TOO.MUCH.TV.”
“LB, what happened at school today?”
“Nothing Mum. Nothing.”

 

 

The foyer

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I randomly decided to pick LB up an hour and a half early from after school club yesterday. And found him sitting patiently on a chair in the foyer. Alone.

“WHADDAYADOINGSITTINGHERE LB???“
“Waiting Mum.”
“Waiting?!! WHY AREN”T YOU IN KIDS CLUB?”
“Dunno Mum.”
“What are you waiting for?”
“You Mum.”

I rang the kids club staff on the internal phone (you have to ring and speak to staff).

“Er, I have LB here. In the foyer on his own.”
“Ah, is he there? We’ll come down and get him.”
“GET HIM? I’ve got him! What’s he doing in the foyer on his own?!!!”
“We’ve been waiting for him to come from football. Usually he’s brought up to the hall after football by school staff…”

After this exchange on the phone (???) we left and the service provider running the kids club texted me disclaiming any responsibility ending with “..we are not at fault”. It was the school’s responsibility. Lovely.

This morning, the school liaison officer (SLO) rang, hugely apologetic. It will never happen again. LB had told a staff member that he wasn’t going to kids club that afternoon, I was picking him up. He had to wait in the foyer. Whoa. Cheeky monkey or what? (He doesn’t  like after school club and was pretty fixated on getting Eddie Stobart Series 3 in the post).

Or, as the SLO suggested, was the dude a bit psychic?

I asked LB what he thought about what had happened, at bedtime last night.

“I hate the foyer Mum.”

The why? question

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LB has become adept at answering most questions “Yes“, “No“, “Don’t know” or “All of them” in typical teenager fashion. We’ve been pushing him on this recently (not least because it’s pretty boring).

This morning (as with so, so many mornings);

“Mum? I love lorries Mum.”
“I know.”
“Mum? I love lorries Mum…”

Usually at this point I say “I know LB. Do you know how I know?”
And he answers “Because I’ve told you 25,000 times, Mum.”

This morning I mixed it up a bit;

“Mum? I love lorries Mum.”
“I know.”
“Mum? I love lorries Mum…”
“Why do you love them?”
“Dunno Mum.”
“No, think of why you love them.”
“Dunno Mum.”
“C’mon LB. Try to explain to me why you love lorries.”
“Because. Because…… Because of me, Mum.”

Love him.

The letter

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So, we get back from a nice weekend away, with the sun still shining, and there’s a letter from LB’s Transition Care Manager (ASW).

I am writing to confirm that we have been successful at panel and that your indicative budget is xxx per week or xxxx for a full year. I understand you wish to receive the budget as a direct payment and manage the account yourself. I enclose a support plan that needs to be completed before any money is released. I’m happy to start the support plan for you as a draft and then we can arrange to meet to discuss any questions you may have.

Well, I have quite a few questions.

Kicking off with who is the we? Given ASW has never met LB*, I’m not sure who it refers to?  I’ve met ASW for about 20 minutes in total and she ain’t ever met LB, so seems a bit too familiar for my liking.

And why were we successful?  Was there ever a question mark over the need for an adult care package? I find it pretty offensive really, suggesting we somehow won something. Or is this a (waste) product of current government welfare reform. WE have been successful in the wider context of cuts. Great.

What is an indicative budget? If these terms are going to be used, they should have some sort of explanation or it is meaningless (and frustrating).

Is this budget for just the period while LB is still in full time education or indefinitely? If the latter, does that mean that LB will have his case closed once this care package (xxx a week) is in place?

And if yes, how the fuck are we supposed to manage our lives, with full time jobs, around the equivalent of 10 hours a care week?

That’s it really. I’m not going to bother repeating the way in which careless, jargon filled communications like this are experienced.

Transition really is shit.

*I know.

The adult service

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Realised I’d double booked myself for this Friday and had to cancel a visit from LB’s new social worker. The adult social worker. I then realised that a) I didn’t know her name and b) I didn’t have any contact details for her. Other than ‘ASW, Friday morning’. “Hey, crap bollock”, I hear some of you shout, “Why didn’t you write down the details at the time?”

I dunno. But I’m not sure it’s my responsibility to fact find in this situation.

When I met ASW, with LB’s current social worker, a few weeks ago, it was a pretty underwhelming situation. Chittering on, as I filled the kettle, I lightheartedly mentioned that LB said he didn’t want to meet her.

“Well,” she said, bristling, “I am his future.”

We sat at the table for ten minutes, having a forgettable chat (well apart from the bit where she defended A4E’s performance in the local authority). And made an appointment for Friday. I’m not sure what the point of the last meeting was, or this one because nothing is made clear. But I obviously needed to reschedule.

I emailed LB’s existing social worker. Asking for ASW’s contact details (and whether  she remembered her saying she was his future). I got an email back, ignoring my second question but stating the following;

  • Adult care manager is ASW, you can email her on xxxx. She will be his care manager when he transfers to the adult service. Once his care package is up and running she will then close to her. However he will remain open to the learning disability team. If you require further support after the closure to ASW then you just contact the team and they will re refer you to a care manager that is more than likely be ASW.

Eh? Sorry, but what does any of this mean? Is this social care speak? Are there some missing words? What does ‘close to her’ mean? And ‘open to the learning disability team’? What does that mean??? And why all the jiggerypokery if the outcome ‘more than likely’ is  always going to be ASW? What does any of it mean???

And why are you emailing me this crapshite piece of opaque, insider, meaningless jargon when I’m terrified enough about what the future will be like for LB?

World of Adventure

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Yesterday we had a day out at Chessington. We’ve had mixed experiences of days out at various places in the past, so the bar is set fairly low. Chessington scored high early on, for us, yesterday with their sensible arrangements for families with disabled children.

Once you’ve provided paper proof that your child is disabled (yes really) alongside the child, you get given a card which allows you to go to the exit of each ride. A staff member lets you straight on the ride after writing down what time you can next use the card for a big ride (adding the equivalent of the queue time you’ve jumped).

This works well as you don’t have to walk past the glares and stares of the main queue, who have you pegged as liggers as your child “don’t look disabled”, and the time delay between being able to access big rides is fair enough. A good example of reasonable adjustment really, removing the difficult bit (queuing) for dudes like LB.

We started with the Rattlesnake. My first ever roller coaster. Tom and Rich in front, waving their arms in the air. Me and LB behind. I kept my eyes scrunched shut, gripping the handlebars and quietly whimpering.  LB sat quiet, composed and distant, seemingly oblivious to height, speed, excitement or terror.

“Fuck that,” he said to himself when we got off 90 seconds later.

Beyond shunned, trust and what?

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LB’s now been back from his five day PGL adventure for three days. And all we know is that he was ‘shunned’ by the boy he shared a room with, he went abseiling and ate chips. He says he had a good time. He says his room mate scared him. He says he had to sleep with the light off, which also scares him. He says he doesn’t want to go again. But then he didn’t want to go in the first place.

Oh, and I also know there was a ‘staff change’ on the Saturday in the middle of the trip.

This was LB’s first ‘adult’ holiday. It was organised by a care provider company who seem to have a good reputation. As I wrote earlier, there was no choice involved. We haven’t been shown any evidence of the ‘quality’ of this company (or any other company for that matter). The local authority obviously use this company but that don’t mean diddly squat. The company has glossy brochures. A bouncy, cheerful worker does home visits and gets the forms signed. A cheerful woman picked him up and dropped him off. There is a cracking performance of bright, breezy and cheerful. But what do we really know? There’s that screaming question; Why should we trust you?

Maybe I’m being overly protective. Maybe LB went off, had a great time and loved every minute. I hope so, but that’s not the point. It just ain’t good enough. I know, historically, learning disabled people have had a crap deal, but the current context of Winterbourne, the crapheap that is the CQC, the increase in hate crime against disabled people, and so on, is hugely concerning. LB, like many other dudes like him, is vulnerable. He doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body, is loyal, loving and great company. But he doesn’t have any resources to defend himself.

I don’t like this discourse of ‘care providers’ when profit is often be the motivating factor in their operation. What ‘care’ are they providing? Are they ‘caring’ or is it more about containment? I have no personal issue with the particular company that was involved in this holiday. I have a broader issue with the way in which LB has already taken his first step into adult (almost) services and already the foundation of lack of information, choice and control is laid.

Oh, and a ‘staff change’ during a five day holiday with a group of young people like LB, in my book, is a complete fucking no no.

Shunned

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“Who did you share a room with LB?”
“Nicky.”
“Ah. Did you get on with him?”
“No Mum.”
“Why not?”
“He was very loud Mum. He scared me.”
“What do you mean? How did he scare you?”
“He told me to stop talking Mum.”
“Ah. Was this at night time?”
“Yes Mum.”
“Well you know you can’t chatter on all night when you’re sharing a room, don’t you?”
“He shoved me Mum.”
“Shoved you? Whaddaya mean?!”
“SHUNNED ME Mum, HE.SHUNNED.ME.”
“Wow. Why’d he do that?”
“Dunno Mum.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“Yes Mum.”
“What did you say to him?”
“‘Do you like lorries?’ Mum.”
“Ah. What did he say?”
“No Mum.”