This morning I got up at 5am, a bit of an early start. First thing I did was put on a wash, so that it would be finished by 7ish ready to hang out.
Next I did some work on my CV, this was a slight panicked response to an email I got yesterday about a senior management position to apply for. So I made some alterations added relevant stuff and sent it.
By now it was 6am, so I went out to the cornershop to get milk, bread, cigarettes and top up our oyster cards. Mr. Cornershop, as always is exceptionally clueless, he hadn’t switched on his card terminal or oyster terminal. The card one had to go through the laborious process of doing an update. You would have thought his morning routine would be open shop, switch on cctv,till and terminals, do something else and then check everything is ok for a 6am opening. Well it took 25mins to buy and update, oh well.
So back home, I made everyone’s lunches. Egg mayo and salad wraps for DW, PB&J for DD1 and kosher turkey ham for DD2. chopped up tomatoes and cucumber for additions and bagged up jelly sweets as well as juices and cheesy wotsits.
Next I popped it into my rucksack with schoolbags, shoes etc.. My two are whiney little ‘darlings’ when it comes to carrying things and the passive aggressive resistance drives me mad, so I schlep all their shit myself.
Now its time to wake up all the females in the house, this is the bit I really hate with a passion. DD2 jumps out of bed, she’s not to bad first thing. DW and DD1 a pair of ‘princesses’ who just won’t wake up easily. Monday to Friday, you get up at x time to fulfil your obligations to work and school. This is a constant, a given, an actual tangible thing. Every morning, you would think that they never experienced it, and every morning its the same, tedious tiresome routine. So of course I shout at them to get up, they whine, dick about in a disorganised way. DW faffs about deciding what to wear, the DD’s mess about with uniforms. There’s then is all the palaver about using the bathroom, every step now has to be micro managed, clean your teeth, wash your face and hands, brush your hair, OMG. Its like they have a disorganisational brain injury. While I’m watching over the children I shout to DW to empty the washing machine. The acoustics in our house are dreadful.
So finally we’re downstairs, DW starts to make coffee (this is my only cup of the day), she does cereal for the DD’s. In the living room there is bickering over what to watch on chromecast youtube.
I have a sit down, have a surf, catch up on emails and empty all my inboxes. Then I do the dishes and I notice the washing machine hasn’t been emptied, now its close to leaving time. I get all the clothes into a laundry basket and DW volunteers to hang them. I finish the morning dishes and we are now good to go.
So the trip to school happens which is about 45 minutes, hang around in the school playground until 9am. Then on my way to sort out our housing crisis.
At 10am I arrive at Waltham Forest Ascham homes building and take a ticket. Mine is number 84, the display shows 60, oh well a bit of a wait, at least I have my kindle. So 10:15 my phone goes, its the recruiter for the job I applied for at 5:30 am. He thinks my cv is a good fit and he’s gonna pitch me at 85k with full benefits package. So we’ll see how it plays out.
So twenty minutes into sitting in housing and the number has moved to 66 so that’s around an hour to wait.
I don’t know what to expect regarding our housing crisis, it seems so convolutely awkwardly painful, we can afford housing, but because of my bankruptcy I can’t get the necessary credit references to get a new place.
I’m going to try a new technique, play dumb, be nice and not understand anything. I think my problem for the staff at places like this is that I’m too informed, I expect to be given correct information and for them to act efficiently.
Interesting little factette of the 100 or so people here only 10% are Caucasian, of that I wonder how many have greater than five generations in England. At my daughter’s first school ten percent were Caucasian of which only 20% were generationally English the rest were all central European and eastern European economigrants. Things that are slightly annoying about economigrants are: the people sitting next to me have very recently arrived in the UK, they’ve rocked up here because they came to the UK with NO where to live and are seeking crisis housing, that’s slightly galling.
Anyway what am I learning by being here, the air con is good, there is a children’s play area with cbbies on (cool). It’s not noisy, it’s clean and people seem to be well behaved.
On the day we do need crisis housing, this place is on the bus route directly from our home, not far down the road is the children’s favourite softplay place. I was slightly pissed off coming here as DW has used this bus route more than I have and I realised that one stop down the road from the soft play place is a bus stop that would take us to our house. If she was slightly more observant (rather than living in lala land) she would have realised that we could get the W16 rather than the two buses and a walk to soft play place. This is the bit that causes me real strife and causes me to shout the fuck at her. If she just paid attention, looked around and engaged brain and bloody communicated then our lives could be so much fucking easier. But no, she doesn’t, she can be a disaster of a human being, just as well she married a bloke who has a different approach to her otherwise her and her kids lives would be absolute hell.
This is one of the things I don’t get about her. She despises her mother who is a toxic narcissist, self centred and unobservant, yetShe can be closer to her mother by behaviour than she realises. Although DW is adopted, you can really see the argument for nurture. The old adage of look at the mother and you’ll see what your wife will look like is absolutely true, although they are not genetically related the nurturing has passed on behaviours. She really needs to introspect (in an educational way) and assess what she needs to change to prevent herself falling deeper into a pit of behaviour like her mother.
So back to the day of homelessness, I’ve constructed a plan, we’ll rock up here early, I will take the spoggs to soft play, she’ll sit and wait and cry. The phones will be topped up with loads of credit, we’ll get a 4G mifi hotspot so the spoggs can play games and YouTube, fully charged power packs too, lots of them, we’ll have a fist full of disposable cash for a hotel if we are not emergency re-homed that day and bags packed with the essentials. What a glorious fuck up. Anyway the board is at 81 its been an hour fifteen since I first guesstimated the length of time, so I would say waiting in housing add 50% additional time before seeing someone.