“Watchin dad fish”
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Mind your language
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.”
“Dear Wilbur…”
Rosie and Owen said they’d sort out the clutter in the loft today. They pulled everything out of cupboards into a huge mess of stuff (and more stuff). When I got back from work we sorted through it.
Well.
What a load of rubbish. And memories.
A few (of so many) highlights; my Kate Bush fan club card, 500 francs from the Central African Republic, a load of charcoal life drawings, my autograph book (including Arthur Askey and Daley Thompson), old school textbooks covered in waxed paper and an old laptop we decided to keep for comedy value. The LOL Laptop as it was renamed.
Then there was my battered old case of birthday cards and letters. We chucked the cards. Well apart from 18th and 21st birthdays. And handmade ones from the kids.
Various diaries also turned up spanning several years. Didn’t realise I was such a diarist to be honest.
“OMG Mum, you’re so lame..” muttered Rosie, leafing through them. “Woke up. Washed my hair. Walked to school…Watched Angels, went to bed…”
1982 quickly became the favourite. From March 2nd, I started writing it as though I was writing to a mate from my old school. I’ll save the details for another day other than to say this shift meant there were a lot of exclamation marks and I signed off entries “TTFN, Sara!” On May 5th I switched to writing to an imaginary person, ‘Wilbur’, ending each entry with “Well that’s about it for now! Sara.” By the end of May, I reverted back to type. Thank goodness.
Rosie read out several entries, howling with laughter. Then we got back on with the job. Head first in dirty boxes.
“OMG Mum. Stamps!!! You.were.a.stamp collector?????”
Nuff said.
The torch relay
“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
“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.”
Milan. Space sharing (2); chuggers, dogs and swifts
The Phone Call (2)
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
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
“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.”
Milan; sharing space
mydaftlife 