My husband Jim and I first met each other at work. He always struck me as a great person to be around: intelligent, insightful and fair but with a wicked sense of humour.
I’m not going to lie to you. The application form? It’s a brute.
My brother has a bit of a phobia of application forms and if he caught sight of this specimen, he’d be running to hide behind the sofa quicker than he did when he first saw Michael Jackson’s Thriller.
Last week I went on a home visit to a lady who had enquired about fostering through our agency. She’d been on our website, liked what she’d seen and dropped us an email. I’d been the one to call her and answer her questions.
This is the first post from Lucy Stevens who, along with her family, is embarking on the process of becoming a foster carer. She will be chronicling the story of her journey via this regular blog.
I hope you had a lovely summer. We did. I looked after two separate sibling groups. Hard work but great fun. We had lots of days out. While in one adventure park I stood next to a woman who spoke rather loudly when talking to her three young boys who appeared to be quite a handful.
Many young people in care feel they have limited say in the decisions that affect their lives and this can have a knock-on effect on their behaviour. Having relinquished responsibility for their actions they no longer hold themselves accountable for the outcome of any negative behaviour.
This blog is a true story, told bravely and passionately, by an anonymous young person in foster care.
We are all familiar with the naughty step which may also be a naughty chair, spot, or corner.