Dark

It's school-run time, and the yellow school bus lumbers past the window, its windows steamed up, a few faces discernible inside. Parents and children, heavily hooded, are making their way through the wind and rain from the school, 50 yards from our house, to their cars or their nearby homes. The wind sighs and moans down the chimney. The neighbour's boy passes, head down, with his paper bag slung over his shoulder, either at the beginning or the end of his round. Car tyres hiss on the wet road, the sound of children's voices just audible through the double glazing, and past the wind which seems to be building up.

Last year I used to see the kids coming out of the school where I was based, watching them from my office window. Once or twice I wrote something on the blog about the kids, and in particular about my despair at the lack of action taken by social services to protect some of them. Once or twice I mentioned examples of things that were going on for these kids - violent abusive things. And look where it got me... I was told these things were identifiable by anyone who knew those kids, though no names, schools or personal details were ever mentioned. Is that a breach of confidentiality?

It's a classic November wet and windy day, where the afternoon seems over before four o'clock. I remember these from childhood. Lights on in the classroom in interminable afternoon Latin or History lessons, walking home in the half-dark, getting wet. Arriving home and making hot chocolate, toast with Bovril or chocolate spread (or one of each), and sitting down to watch Little House on the Prairie. I'm sure there were many other things I watched, but this memory always comes out with LHOTP in it, and often with Lucy sitting nearby munching toast too, and taking the piss out of goody two-shoes Laura and Mary, and the sugary sweet smiles of Ma and Pa.

Outside everyone's hair is blowing about, and cars are putting their lights on. 15.46 says the computer clock. I have heard nothing about the job I applied for, and am rapidly reaching the conclusion they do not want to interview me. How I hate this process. How I hate not knowing what it is they want, when I thought I'd done a very impresssive application. Soon be time to regroup, and maybe start to put all eggs in just the one basket - the basket of private practice. Not my ideal scenario, but since no-one seems to want to employ me, going to have to do it myself.

At least I can say that this November is better than last November, when about this time I was preparing for the investigation meeting. Though that isn't saying much.