OOTLIN by Jenni Fagan

I must order a copy of OOTLIN by Jenni Fagan. Having read her article about it in The Guardian, I think it will be compelling. A must read. 

Jenni Fagan says:

On the day the Freedom of Information Act came in, I picked up the phone at 9am. It took me 24 years to get my social work files. I picked up a vast heavy load of them. Hundreds, thousands of pages, most redacted in black lest they validate something that would allow me to sue them. I had lived in so many placements, had multiple name changes, foster families, adoptions, children’s homes and hostels. I had been through more as a child raised by the state than I ever thought possible to get my head around.

I had never got to have my say, legally, or otherwise.

I suffered from lifelong brainwashing telling me I was the issue. I’ve never met an abuser who owned what they did, or a system that wanted to be accountable.

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2023/aug/12/jenni-fagan-ootlin-a-memoir-childhood-in-care


I wondered what photograph to choose to head a blog with such a sad subject... maybe I should look for a reassuring paradise earth pic to remind me and any readers I may have (and I welcome every one of you) that all this sadness is only temporary, and  that our Creator has promised us a time on the earth when "the former things will not be brought to mind, neither will they come up into the heart". So I have found a photo of a Flowering Dogwood in the lovely Nyman's Gardens, which Col took earlier in our retirement.

Col is having a bit of an odd week.  Rachel Riley is missing from Countdown.  She is not on for three weeks apparently!   A nice young maths teacher is doing her job. He is so much nicer than any maths teacher I have ever had, with the honourable exception of Mr. Capps and Mr. Hughes.  Mr. Hughes was too kind to be scathing about my lack of maths skill, and while Mr. Capps was brilliantly sarcastic about the lack, he did it in a way that made me laugh as well as the rest of the class.

However, the substitute teacher is not Rachel, so Col is pining.  On the doubleplusgood side, he is enjoying the athletics which are on this weekend.  And there are various rugby and football matches on the telly as well. He can tell one match from another - a special skill that lads seem to have.

He is having to do a lot of work looking after me at the moment.  I am managing some sleep, for which I thank God, but I wake up in such pain that I can hardly use my hands and arms.  It does get better once I can get my meds down with breakfast, made, as always by Captain B.  He was at home on Saturday - not metal detecting - amazing.  He was out Sunday though and so needed his usual Sunday sandwich lunch. I had a dream Friday night in which he was leaving, very early, with no lunch as I had forgotten to make it.  

I had a rare outing last night. We went to Worthing to see Gordon Buchanan on his Lions and Tigers and Bears tour.  It was well worth it - very entertaining, very fast moving, very funny, and some great photos.  It was quite painful and difficult too, but only because of the current status of my arthritis.

It resulted in me dreaming this morning that Captain B came into the bedroom to tell me he was leaving for The Field, and he had a cat in a cat carrier in his hand.  I was just trying to work out what was wrong with that - the vet would not be open that early? - and hadn't got round to the fact that we hadn't got a cat before the real Captain arrived to tell me that breakfast was ready.

My dreams are very odd at the moment, but after so many almost sleepless nights I guess my brain has a lot of catching up to do.

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