News

Monday
As a fieldworker in an area office in the centre of town I join the daily scrum of shoppers in the search for a parking space. The managers have the privilege of parking under the office where they they have a sacrosanct space. And in a bid to stop us using management's privileges each parking space now has an allocated licence plate number staring at you from high on the wall! The principle of need over prestige is not one enjoyed in our social services office.

Tuesday
Why do my colleagues have a chronic hung over look about them? Could it be that our team of nine social workers is now four? Is it because three of them are moonlighting in an attempt to make ends meet? Or is it the office, roasting in summer and freezing in winter. Who knows?

Wednesday
Oh! This place is wonderful. An example: following adoption guidelines we are obliged to send a leaflet to birth parents explaining adoption. Easy. Not so! No leaflets in the office. Try family placement team. "Not for us to have them." Try the county adoption team. The person on the end of the phone finds one rather old dusty copy and doesn't want to part with it. Helpfully gives me the number of BAAF Adoption and Fostering. Great, now I'm getting somewhere. No. It's a duff number. Back to square one. I know, try Adoption HQ. Helpful person on the other end says each area has to buy their own leaflets. Great. Gives me a number for BAAF. Success this time. Will send me a catalogue. When the catalogue comes I will have to put the order before the dreaded funding panel. This could take weeks! Perhaps I should write my own; it would be a lot quicker.

Thursday
I enjoy a car journey to a care proceedings hearing. It's the only peace I have where nobody can get at me. Shame about the hearing. Essential to these directions was the absentee birth mother who had decided she wasn't well enough. As a consequence nobody could think of any directions. The judge set another hearing the week before Christmas. When I'm on leave. C'est la vie!

Friday
I am taking a 12-year-old offender to youth court for the first time. It was my hope that she would be dealt with efficiently to protect her a little from the awful environment. Not so. Inside the waiting area there are what seems to be about 100 people, all with the same 9.30 appointment. By 11.30 everybody is champing at the bit. My own youngster, who had started out being more or less terrified by the prospect of being in court had now spotted some of her friends and began to feel much more comfortable. By the time she actually reached the magistrates three hours later she had sworn at the ushers, smoked herself silly and had fallen out with her mother. Needless to say, the matter was not dealt with - it was timetabled for three months' time. What happened to fast tracking?