Waiting for another day

Amidst the chaos of my room, there's one shelf in one cupboard that's absolutely sacrosanct. It's where The Bag lives, waiting for the day it comes off the shelf and goes back to work.

The Bag is a present from my mum, and it's definitely a social worker's bag. Or at least a social work assistant's bag. For three months I carried it around as part bag, part prop, part security blanket. Holding The Bag and wearing my ID, I could walk into stranger's houses, challenge racist statements, and empower even the most challenging individual to develop their lives. At least, I tried to do all of these. But holding the bag, I could be as nosy and forceful as a social work assistant needs to be.

Anyway, another job has come up, in the team at Hemel Hempstead. I could go for it, and if I did I'd almost certainly get it, as long as I sort the driving thing out. But rumour has it they're not as close as we are, and I know it's going to break my heart to leave Borehamwood.

But no harm in applying. And until I make a decision, The Bag sits and waits.