Back for good...

Well, I've returned to work for 10 days only and its like i never left. I am yet again back into the familiar situation of finding myself around a small table in a internal window lit room, with a couple of hostile parents and a sullen teenager who is in the process of being delivered into our care. My job is to get them to leave again as a happy family unit, the sooner the better. However, when the kids are badly behaved, they are very rarely apologetic either, and their goading and attitude doesn't help. This situation has happened three times this week.

My job is so full on that often i don't talk about it, as it so quickly ends up in these ridiculous stories that just seem unbelievable and a world away from the existence of me and my educated, healthy, loved, friends born into families with relatively few life altering traumas or histories. My second day back at work i left a house in a hurry as the 15 year old ADHD boy had begun pacing his empty house, hurling baseballs, tennis balls, coke bottles (in fact anything that moved easily) indiscriminately and swinging a baseball bat at the walls in a rage. These days things like this don't even raise any adrenalin in my system, i simply turned to my colleague and suggested we leave. We then called the police from a safe distance. Simply another visit to write up.

One of the great things about having been away for so long travelling, was that i forgot my kids. I was away for so long, i stopped worrying whether A would succeed in committing suicide, whether B had been sleeping rough, or whether S would remain in her foster placement. I forgot about it all, and it was glorious. But part of being a good social worker is caring about your clients, really caring, not just caring about what boxes they tick on your reports. On Thursday i met my first new client that made me care again, and started me on the slow emotional pull back into my job. Welcome back. I know caring makes you a better worker, but does it really have to hurt so much? This year is a new experiment to see if i can care, but not after 6pm at night. Can i be really involved in such vulnerable peoples lives and yet remain unaffected? This is yet to be seen.

I think i am successful in my job, if for no other reason than despite the fact that i work for 'the social' (often synonymous with 'the enemy') my clients still call me long after i have finished working with them to ask for help. When i finally got my work mobile answer machine running, there already on the machine was StaceyG's mum, asking me to call. When i phoned her back, she wanted help with locating a sixth form for her daughter to attend, and then suggested that we meet up sometime for me to see her now almost adult daughter. I probably wont meet them as its not accepted for a professional relationship to become anything else, but despite it not being my job to look for colleges, and even though i am really busy. I'll find her some courses and call her back, because i still haven't stopped caring about Stacey.

Whats going on ear then?

Did you know some people say that your ears never stop growing. So that's why old people have big ears. Well, apparently. Since this weekend has been crammed with visiting elderly relatives i thought I'd take advantage of the opportunity to test this theory.

First up my parents house. My mum's ears seem average, but my step-dads- well they are certainly big. I mean it makes sense in someways doesn't it. Gravity makes skin droop, there are not really any muscles supporting an earlobe are there?!

Today i went to see my Grandparents, and again, yes they both have copious amounts of ear. I didn't dare ask to measure them, but I'd like to challenge you to. Well, not measure my grandparents ears, but your own, and any old people you know. Write me your initials, age and ear size (measuring the left ear from highest point to lowest point -diagonally if necessary) and i will plot a graph, and get my stats loving flat mate to work out if it is dataorially significant (and yes that is a word).

On a funny note, when we went to see my Grandma in the Home, another old lady came up to Xss, obviously impressed with his looks and kept shuffling towards him closer and closer. Their heads were the same height with him sitting and her standing, and the magnetism she felt towards him meant she was unable to stop until she was an uncomfortable 40cm from him and seemed to shuffle closer with each question of hers he answered. I wasn't sure if she was going to try to kiss him, or just wanted a really good look at him. He coped with it well, and didn't even react when she pointed to his cream hooded jumper and stated, 'oh i used to have a cardigan like that'. I on the other hand was struggling to contain my chortles. I think she meant it as a compliment, and they moved on to discuss the lovely warmth a nice cardigan can bring.

Dont forget to measure your ears and post the results here. To get you started here are some i have collected:
Xss - 28yo, 69mm
LE - 28yo, 58mm

Nothing changes but you

I'm at home, in my flat, in my room, on my worn out old cumbersome computer (Rocky is his name) with my old bed covers and old radio alarm clock blaring out in red numbers that it is almost bed time. The windows next to the bed are still dusty and there are signs that the rain still seeps in under the window when the right angle of wind is teamed with a certain tenacity of rainfall. This allows a significant puddle to pool on the ledge, before occasionally plummeting to the floor in organised groups leaving a wet puddle near the bed in the carpet. But none of this is new, and although they are old problems that need fixing, none of these issues seem to be as pressing this week, the first in our flat, as THE towels.

Some people might label this 'nesting' or 'girlification' or simply just 'growing up', but really its just logic. It dawned on me as i was getting out of my first shower back in the flat, that the faded, flat, slightly mouldy smelling towel i was about to dry myself on was not as nice as the towels we were using when away. Not only was it worse than the towels in the lovely hotels we stayed in at the end, but it was even worse than the towels in the grubby hostels we had been staying in for $7 a night! Now i want new ones, ones in which visitors to our house will not have to think, 'well, its ugly but functional' but will actually enjoy using! I want matching towels, in two different colours, which match the paint work. And enough of them that we no longer need the towel with all the swimming badges sewn on down the side as back up. I am proud that i can swim 10meters, but i could always put a sign in the bathroom stating this instead.

However, this wanting nice things has now gotten out of control. I went into the kitchen and now i want new matching tea towels, and why stop there, perhaps matching tea caddies and sugar pot, that match the tea towels! I can even acknowledge that there is NO point whatsoever for having a tea caddy, but i want one. I got so carried away in the kitchen that now i have thrown away the kettle and toaster, in order to get matching ones (shiny and black), unfortunately the matching kettle was out of stock and now we have to boil water in a saucepan until it comes in, but when it does, why, you are going to be blown away by the neatness of my kitchen.

What else? The British weather!

I know i am home, as today when i went to meet Tx and Lovely in Green Park, i took a backpack containing a bikini, short skirt, hooded jumper, and waterproof coat. Its been so nice coming back to such nice weather, and has certainly eased our transition to 'non-traveller status' being able to sit in the Somerset sun enjoying the scenery in all its real colours. However, on this day trip to London (we don't move back until next week) the old annoying quandary of an impossible guessing game of what will the day bring and what should i be wearing in order to survive it began.

I needed none of the bag items, as it remained nice, but not too nice. It was great to see friends and be able to discuss anything i like. During the 300 days of Xss certain topics quickly were banned from conversation, i don't know why, but discussing what colour underwear i want to buy next (but not actually buying it), or what the optimum bra to matching pants ratio is.

The highlight of my Green Park adventure was recounting to Tx and Lovely the story of how Xss, in the amazon heat of Peru, licked an ice-cream ball off the top of his cone right onto the floor. At this time we all had our own 99 ice-creams, but as the story and consequent laughter progressed, Lovelys' flake fell to the floor due to the laughter vibrations travelling down her arm. Much laughter ensued and then disaster struck twice as my flake gravitated towards the floor also. I haven't laughed so hard in a long time.