Funny how the mind works, and when its "On" I always end up thinking fostering.

So…

The cricket season has started (my other half cares about it).

How, you might ask, can cricket lead you to think about fostering?

My brain went like this…

Some years ago a 14 year-old lad came to us, a truly delightful kid whose dad had fled ages ago and his mum ended up going off the rails.

He'd had no life to speak of. Never had a holiday, Christmas and birthdays went unoticed. His schooling was described in his notes as "sporadic".

He spent most days and nights in his bedroom. His household didn't have a dime.

Then he joined us as a foster child, and took off.

Blue Sky helped enroll him at a decent secondary school where they played cricket. Someone tossed him a ball, and it turned out he could bowl. Fast.

So the very next game they had, the school had him open the bowling.

The match (his state school versus a public school) was played at the grounds of the public school.

At the time he was our only placement, so my eldest son offered to drive him there and pick him up. And I volunteered to go along and watch.

Setting off early we got there an hour early. The sports facilities were astonishing; four cricket grounds, innumerable rugby pitches, hockey pitches.. a golf course! I went up to their reception desk. A mahogany greetings room with leather chesterfields and marble pillars.

The receptionist asked if she could help. "Yes please" said little me, I'm a parent, wondering where the cricket is happening?"

"It's on pitch number four, the Oval, too far to walk. Where are you parked." 

I replied;

"My wheels have gone off, so I'm on foot."

"Oh, no problem. I'll arrange a driver for you."

Then she said "Would you like lunch?"

I said I was okay.

She then said;

"Or coffee or tea?"

I okayed a tea,

2 minutes later a silver tray with a china teapot, a china cup and saucer, china milk jug, china bowl of white and brown sugar lumps and a sugar iced slice of cake with double cream.

Then the receptionist asked me this;

"When is your chauffeur returning to collect you."

Yep.

God's honest truth, I never make stuff up here...When I'd said :"I'm a parent" she assumed I was someone who could afford £50,000 a year fees.

What brought me back to thinking about fostering was the grand canyon of divide between the haves and the have nots.

Yet. I'm in touch with our kid, he's going along as well as any of the "Ollies" and "Julians" he played that day.

Best of all, I don't know much about about cricket, but I know when batsmen are getting their block knocked off. 

Which my boy did.