Sweetcorn fritters with stirfried veg
Today I received a letter from the council, letting me know that I have been approved for a place on the housing list. This means that I can apply for any council housing that meets my needs, and will be given any I apply for where I am the highest ranked applicant.
The ranking system goes from Band 1 – urgent medical needs or other exceptional circumstances – through to Band 5 – no particular housing need. I have been put in Band 3 – significant medical needs and insecure / shared facilities – although I think I might have a good case for being in Band 2 – severe (rather than significant) needs. To change bands, I will need to appeal to the council, with supporting evidence, and have my appeal accepted. That’s a challenge for next week, though.
In either case, I will have a long wait: there are currently over 2,000 households waiting for housing in the top two bands, so I will have a lot of competition even if I do move up. (And anyone tempted to make any comments about “migrants taking up housing”, please don’t. I don’t want to get into an argument on a peaceful Friday evening.)
In other news today: a flat I really, really liked and could see myself living in is in a block with a ‘no pets’ policy, so that’s another option gone with no others on the horizon.
While mum was out with Lady Friday, I chased up the community nurse (still no call back), spoke very briefly to my therapist (who is back after 6 weeks of sick leave), rearranged a hospital appointment for mum until after her psychiatrist appointment, then sat and felt very sorry for myself.
For dinner I cooked some ready-made sweetcorn fritters, and stirfried some veg with hoisin sauce. Mum said the fritters were quite spicy, but ate them anyway.
Then she grabbed her coffee ice cream, until she spotted my slice of cake and commented that it looked nice. I said she was welcome to try some, then watched in dismay as she picked up my piece and walked off with it. That wasn’t quite what I meant!(I got myself another slice, so I didn’t miss out, I’m pleased to say.)
Now, as always, it’s tv and complaining, then bed and complaining, before another day of complaining. After today’s flat fiasco, I am almost seeing her point.
