Hi,

I hope you and yours are well, this is the first of my letter blogs, this blog is a 40th anniversary gift to me.

I want freer self-expression without the conditions of academia, the demands of reporting, assessment and analysis. It’s a space to tell the stories about my career. I hope readers will include family, friends and colleagues.

While on sabbatical in 2023/24 I generated a list of stories and topics I'd like to include in these blogs – there is no shortage of material – some of my stories will be professional, personal, sad and humorous. I’m not someone who overshares, quite frankly it makes me cringe if I’m honest, so I hope to maintain a sense of dignity and respect for self as I write. I’m also not entirely sure where this is all leading, but it is definitely my hope that writing in this way will bring about more self-understanding, growth (even at my stage in life) and wisdom.

The stories will not come in any particular chronological order, so please don’t judge me ☺

Sooooooooo, here we go, do enjoy the first of many to come.

Where did it all start? I mean my earliest recollections of social work……...

When I was about 10 years old, one of my teenage paternal cousins (her mother was one of my Grand Aunts, my paternal grandmothers’ younger sisters) needed a place to stay due to difficulties at home. So, she came to live with my family.

I am the eldest of four siblings, three girls and a boy. Sadly, we lost our brother Ron suddenly at 24yrs old. I’ll share more about this tragedy another time.

Mum and Dad came to England, the ‘mother country’, at 18 and 21yrs old. Mum lost her mother at 14, and as the youngest of my maternal grandmothers three children, Mum decided she would follow one of her older brothers and come to England. Dad is the eldest of eight, he has two younger brothers and five sisters. Mum and Dad were part of the Windrush generation. Both my parents are from the Nature Isle of The Commonwealth of Dominica in the Caribbean. It is a Leeward Island between the two French colonies of Martinque and Guadeloupe. Coincidently they are both from the same village in Dominica so have known each other all their lives. You will also hear more about Dominica in future blogs and its significant impact on my identity as a young Black woman.

Anyway, back to the story of my teenage cousin.

Mum and Dad agreed to accommodate her, they had the space and this was what Caribbean families did. Her social worker visited our home and spoke with my parents. At that time, I didn't really understand what a social worker was – in fact she was known as ‘the welfare lady’.

I observed however, that she had a car (which I’ve always been obsessed with, I love cars) and although I didn't know at the time that I wanted to be a social worker, driving around seemed a pretty neat job to me.

Other aspects of my emerging personality which I think relate to social work, was my sense of curiosity. Some might call it nosiness. I remember two incidents in particular; our family lived in a three-bedroom house in Nort West London when I was young. It was the first family home we owned. At one stage we had a male tenant, who had recently split up with his wife. He lived in one of the rooms downstairs. One day I remember walking past his room, the door was slightly ajar and as I passed his room I peeped in and saw him sprawled out on the floor – he had passed out – I raised the alarm, the ambulance was called, and he was taken to the hospital. Not sure what was the cause, but I felt good about being the one who raised the alarm.

The second memory I have is when my uncle and his family lived in our home for a short time prior to moving back to Dominica. Again, I happen to be walking past their room, there was smoke coming from the room. Peering through the keyhole, I saw the room ablaze. So of course, I alerted my parents, and the fire services were called.

These are my earliest memories linking to my eventual career path. I’m known in my family for being the nosy and curious one. As a young child to this day, whenever I’m out and about, I love looking into the windows of houses wondering how families live. My mothers’ term ‘she always gazing, she’s been that way from birth’ – I’d much rather say that I had and continue to have an insatiable curiosity……. sounds better me thinks ☺

Speak again soon, much love.

Sylv x