Category Archives: Laughing boy tales

Weekend News

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LB is back! He marched in with his PGL certificate, a bin bag of filthy clothes, shouted “HELLO MUM” and disappeared to find the laptop to go on youtube.  Any details of his five day trip will have to be teased out with Chunky Stan’s help a bit later. Just before he got back, I was reading through his school news book. Hilarious really. So similar to my diary entries in my teens with exactly the same focus. 

This entry made me chuckle. Undated it details food (banana cake), TV (Passport Control, Traffic Cops, Britain’s Got Talent, Somewhere over the Rainbow) and daily mechanics (bath, bed, sleep). He trumped my early efforts with a finishing sentence “..and I went to sleep and that’s it basically.”

Choice and control

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LB gets direct payments to cover the cost of four hours care a week. Direct payments were introduced to enable “service users” [people] to buy their own care support and services. It’s all about giving service users choice and control in creating a “care package” [support] that is tailored to their needs. So far so good…

The local “care provider” [company] that is somehow hooked into the local authority contacted me to say that LB was down on their list for a residential holiday.  When his case had gone to “panel” [no idea] a few months ago, his care package was increased to 4 hours a week plus a residential holiday. Oh. Ok. What kind of holiday? Five days at an activity centre in Swindon. I wrote the cheque.

Choice? Now that’s a funny one. Choice really means a choice of two or more things. If you’ve only got the choice of one thing and nothing, it ain’t really a choice. It’s a yes or no thank you. I’d already googled and failed to find any available holiday for LB, so, residential holiday in Swindon or no residential holiday? Yes please. But lets not pretend there’s a choice involved here.

The holiday starts today. The company have been in touch a few times about arrangements, LB turned down the meet and greet opportunity and he’s being picked up this afternoon. Between 1.30-3.30pm according to the paperwork. Then a call late yesterday afternoon;

“Hi Sara, just to let you know, I should be with you around 5pm tomorrow to pick up LB…”
5pm? Eh?  Why so late? What if we’d made plans? Why cut corners?
“Oh, great! Thanks!!! LB is really looking forward to it. See you then. Bye!!!”

Control? Not really. Not when you are handing over your dude to their care for four nights and five days. And what about LB? Does he have any choice in all of this? Not really. He’s been muttering but ain’t called in his legal team yet. I suspect he’s just hoping for a few Stobarts on the M4.

 

Mind your language

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Tom was teaching Will some Spanish this morning. He’s off to Valencia on Wednesday to stay with his girlfriend’s family.

“Pretty impressive Spanish Tom. Where’d you learn that?”
“Er, Spanish lessons.”
“Spanish lessons? What in school?”
“Er, yeah. I’m doing Spanish GCSE in Year 10…”
“Ah cool. Do you speak any other languages LB?”
“Yes.”
“What ones?”
“Irish.”
“Wow! Say something in Irish.”
“Top of the morning to you.”

The end of year assembly

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This morning was LB’s end of year assembly. A time of celebrating and sobbing. This year kicked off with Shine by Gary Barlow. A couple of young girls opened brilliantly with the first line or so then everyone else kicked in with a range of voices, shouts, words and signs. Everyone was rummaging around for tissues within seconds.

It’s the same every year.

I remember one year, when LB was about four, I’d just bought a video camera which I was really looking forward to using. The kids were brought on to the stage dressed in colourful tunics (for the ’round the world’ theme) and stood in a semi circle. I managed to locate LB in my viewfinder, with his angelic little face, pressed record and then they opened with “What a Wonderful World“. The rest of the footage is the floor, feet and chair legs and about 10 seconds of LB and his classmates singing and signing;

I hear babies cry, I watch them grow,
You know their gonna learn
A whole lot more than I’ll never know…

Not a dry eye in the house.

I think some of the emotion is about seeing such a diverse group of kids performing their socks off but it’s also seeing the staff interacting with them. They are an exceptional bunch who offer unending support and encouragement.  In this setting, unlike most others, our kids have no limits.

The torch relay

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“Come on LB! Hurry up or we’ll miss it!”
“I hate the torch relay Mum. I HATE it!”
“Come on…”
“I HATE THE TORCH RELAY! I HATE THE TORCH RELAY!”
“Look, I think it’s coming along St Clements already…”
“Why are you doing this to me Mum? I.HATE.THE.TORCH.RELAY.”
“There – look! Can you see it? Above all those people? Look up there..”
“I hate it Mum.”
“Ok. It’s gone. Home now.”
“Thank you Mum. Can I go back on Youtube Mum?”

The Sickie

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“Mum? Mum is it school today Mum?”
“Yep.”
“What if I didn’t feel well Mum?”
“Don’t you feel well?”
“No Mum.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Dodgy stomach Mum.”
“Well you look fine to me.”
“I can’t go to school Mum. I don’t want to infect the other kids.”
“You’re going to school.”
“Mum! I’ve got a dodgy stomach Mum. And I feel sick. That’s what I feel like today.”
“School LB.”
“MUM. I’m knackered Mum. And I’m seventeen. I HATE school.”

The Phone Call (2)

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Ring ring…

LB [from a different room]; “Hello.”

Ring ring…

“Hello.”

Ring ring…

“HELLO!”

Ring ring…

“HELLO!!!”

Ring ring…

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT????”

Ring ring…

Sunshine, support and fluffy dogs

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Old social worker: So I think if you are hoping that LB will eventually move into supported living, he needs to get used to staying away from family…

Adult social worker: Well there’s always respite at Saxon House.

Me: Mmm.. I’m not sure he’d want to go there for respite.

OSW: Oh no. Definitely not. [laughs] He hates ‘the disableds’ does LB [laughs]. He is hilarious. You haven’t met him yet but he comes out with the funniest things. [starts crying with laughter] He sat there, looking at me last time and came out with these one liners. He is totally comical…[wipes eyes]

ASW: Well there’s always Camden. That’s run more like a hotel than a respite centre. It’s like walking into a hotel and it’s all set up like a hotel. There’s a couple of them locally and I think there’s one at the seaside. And actually, you’d be surprised how many people don’t see themselves as disabled.

Me: Wow!!! Camden sounds amazing.

OSW: Oh yes. A hotel? That sounds right up LB’s street.

ASW: Well it’s all about choice these days. You know. Personalised budgets and choices.

Me: [floats off into some imaginary space full of sunshine, fluffy dogs, support and services]

The adult social worker

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“LB, your new social worker’s coming to visit me today. Then she’s coming to meet you at school.”
“She’s already been Mum.”
“Eh? Wha?”
“She’s already been Mum.”
“Oh. What did you talk about?”
“Being sociable Mum.”
“Oh. Ok. Can you remember her name?”
“Anita Mum.”
“Ah, that’s your current social worker. You are going to meet your adult social worker today.”
“Adult Mum?”
“Yes, the one who will be your social worker when you’re an adult.”
“She’s already been Mum.”
“No, that was Anita. You’ll meet the new one today.”
“I don’t want to meet the social worker Mum. I don’t even know her. She’s probably racist Mum. And… And.. she’s on placement Mum. She’s not coming to school.”
“Don’t be silly LB. You’ve got to meet her today. She’s your new social worker.”
“The law’s the law Mum. She’s not coming back to school.”

Slavery

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“I AM NOT DOING THE DISHWASHER AGAIN. EVER. EVER! IT’S A CRIME AGAINST HUMANITY..AND.. AND IT MAKES BOSSY KIDS’ LIVES MISERY..”
“Eh, what’s that LB?”
“Nothing Mum.”
“What are you shouting about?”
“Nothing Mum.”
“It didn’t sound like nothing.”
“Mum?”
“Yes?”
“Mum, what’s slavery Mum?”
“Where people are held against their will and forced to work for the people who hold them.”
“Is slavery a criminal offence Mum?”
“Yes. Why?”
“No reason Mum.”