Category Archives: Uncategorized

Pyjamas and super tankers

I’ve barely been out of my pyjamas this week, not because I’m one of those much commented upon mothers who dares to do the school run in nightwear and slippers, but because I’ve been knocked over by a cold virus. It’s been dreamy daytime television all the way. I learnt that Dion Dublin now presents Homes Under the Hammer (yes, really) and that Adelaide seems a way nicer place to live than Prestatyn, that is unless you’re a thirteen year old girl whose dad is staying in Prestatyn. Doing right by family members is a messy and imperfect business.

Me before a lemsip

Me before a lemsip

We’ve had a run of dramas, which I won’t trouble you with; one a week, for what feels like forever. This week looked like it was going to break the run, but didn’t. There was a sting in it’s tail. It wasn’t as stingy as other stings, but a reminder (as if any more were needed) that the vulnerabilities of children who have experienced poor early care can be extensive (and sometimes expensive). It shouldn’t need repeating but they don’t just get over it, no matter how politically, economically and socially inconvenient that may be.

Episode 2 of The Brain with David Eagleman on BBC4 last night showed how crucial the first two years of brain development are and the enduring consequences for three young people who spent their early months in the appalling conditions of a Romanian orphanage. It filled me with a mixture of hope and anger; hope that this critical information has made it on to primetime television and anger that there are still too many services based on the ‘they’ll get over it’ model.

Next week sees the publication of the Adoption UK magazine, guest edited by me and themed around the mental health needs of adopted children and their families. It’s a subject I’m particularly interested in, or a stick with which I like to beat myself depending on how the week’s going. In parallel I’ll be publishing an article by Jonathan Green, Professor of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry at Manchester University. I’ve heard him say things in meetings, presentations and in private that I’ve itched for more to hear. He’s given me some hope that the super-tanker is indeed starting to turn.

In other news, we had the sad task of burying Treacle the much-loved guinea pig. He now lies under the apple tree in a tax-free Amazon box coffin. During my delirium Mr D stepped in and took over the hospital run, which was good because he’s much better at facing off the ‘how did this happen?’ questions than I am. Meanwhile, I’m tentatively researching the lives of some largely forgotten about Victorian campaigners for what may become my next book. It’s a bit of a brain holiday and something one can quite comfortably do in one’s pyjamas.


TAS Awards 2016 – Acceptance Speech

It is half past five AM. That’s half past five in the morning. I’ve been awake for an hour and a half.

I lay awake for a bit willing sleep but the enormous crapness of everything poked at my stress system (which surely must give up soon) and that was it, no sleep ’til Brooklyn. So I got up, brewed tea, wondered whether to edit a tearful, ranty podcast I recorded yesterday, decided against it (too raw for broadcast), then checked twitter just in case anyone else was about at this stupid hour of the morning.

What I found was a stream of wonderful, touching, caring messages about the TAS Awards 2016 and two awards; one for ‘twitter titter’ and another for what roughly translates as ‘yeah you nailed that crap’.

I am really sorry that I wasn’t about on twitter last night, to thank everyone for voting, to thank Sarah and Vicky for their relentless facilitation of our small but vibrant community and to thank everyone for their jubilation and cake emoticons and good humour. You know the score – life is tough right now, things have slipped, I’m slipping, blahblahblah  (I’m pretty fucking bored of myself and this relentless pressure cooker of family life), so basically I wasn’t around.

Our slice of twitter has helped me cling on to sanity and hope through the darkest, shittiest times. Using black humour is one of my main coping mechanisms and I feel lucky to have connected with so many others who do the same. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve laughed out loud at what might be considered the most inappropriate of times. It’s true what they say, you either laugh or you cry.

I’m currently trying to laugh not cry over some spectacularly poor choices, which come with a vile side salad of intimidation and a fuck you sauce. It’s hard to maintain the comedy because I feel increasingly lost in it all and scared about the future. The truth becomes clearer every day, with every fresh crisis: I’ve done the best I can and now it’s over to you. Sounds easy. Hardest fucker I’ve ever experienced.

My friends, thank you thank you thank you, for all your support over these years. I’m touched that I make you laugh from time to time and that you think I nail the crap. I shall continue to try to do both. Now more tea I think before the sun comes up and another day is done battle with.

The No Excuses! Diet Plan – an inspiring interview with Jacantha Greenflank-Fox

I’m lucky I get to meet some truly inspirational and inspiring people. Jacantha Greenflank-Fox is one one those. I was grateful to have the opportunity to ask her some questions about her brand new health and fitness programme No Excuses!

So Jacantha, you are always so full of energy and glowingness, what’s your secret?

Well Sally, my secret is No Excuses! Yes, it’s that easy! Whether you are holding down two jobs, or caring for a disabled child, if you follow my No Excuses! plan then you really can look and feel as amazing as I do.

You really do look amazing Jacantha. Tell me more about the No Excuses! plan.

The No Excuses! plan is all about eating in a clean, Jurassic,sugar-free, fun-free way all year round. The beauty of it is, it takes minimal equipment* and no time at all other than the preparation and fermentation cycles. It’s super super easy and has no burden of fun whatsoever!

avocado drink

That sounds interesting and amazing. I would love to know your top five tips for No Excuses! fun-free living.

Of course Sally, you look like you need my top five tips for achieving No Excuses! fun-free eating and fitness.

  • Firstly it’s important to remember that everything you thought you knew about healthy eating is in fact wrong. For starters, dairy products are bad for you and make you smell like vomit to people like me who eat clean, and to Japanese people. I like to substitute diary products with a little raw almond husk or some hermetically sealed coconut dew. You may ask ‘but Jacantha, what do you put in your coffee?’ and I’d say, ‘don’t be silly, I drink samphire tea, which is just as, if not more satisfying than coffee, tea or any other hot dirty beverage’.
  • You will be pleased to know that the No Excuses! plan is free from all carbohydrates. Carbohydrates are off-limits because even one slice of wholemeal (yes even wholemeal) bread is the same as sucking on an entire sugar cube. Porridge is also old hat and eaten only by manual workers and overweight Scottish people.
  • People ask me, but what do you eat Jacantha, and I am here to tell you that a whole new wealth of ingredients awaits to tempt you into No Excuses! eating, such as seeds, nuts, spinach, nuts, avocado and seeds. It really is as exciting as it sounds!
  • Some people tell me they have what they call manual jobs and require more energy than is available on the standard No Excuses! plan. I don’t know any of these so called manual workers personally, but I recently had a new kitchen extension built by some. I of course would not allow them to bring any foods not allowed in the No Excuses! plan within the boundaries of my property which at first caused them to be a little alarmed but they soon cheered up when I gave them some powdered kale with ground chia sprinkles – great for manual energy!
  • You may be surprised to learn this, but on the No Excuses! plan, the occasional treat is allowed! I recommend breaking a bar of 100% purely organic extract of cocoa kernel into small pieces and popping them into the freezer. Whenever I fancy treating myself, say after a two hour session of high impact yogic abdominal crunches, I like to suck on one. When I really want to reward myself I might even suck on two! It’s wild!

That really has been very enlightening Jacantha. One final question, it seems like there could be a lot of preparation involved? How can the No Excuses! plan fit around a busy lifestyle?

We are all so busy these days aren’t we Sally. I know I am as my profitable online health and fitness business doesn’t run itself! It’s all about preparation. I like to spend an hour and half before dawn chopping ten portions of vegetables, juicing cashew nuts and preparing the breakfast fridge bars. And really, who doesn’t have a spare hour and a half in the day?


You are a huge inspiration to so many of us Jacatha and I know my readers will be keen to know how they can become part of the No Excuses! plan.

I thought you’d never ask Sally! All you need to do is sign up to my twelve month plan, which starts at only £15.99 a month and for that you will get regular tips and encouragement from me, plus recipes like my No-Fuss Spinach and Pumpkinseed Relish. And as a special new year offer, I’m going to be giving away free sachets of my specially formulated essence of Goji powder. The new you is just a credit card payment away. There really is no need to be an enormously tired loser any longer.

That’s amazingly good value. I’m certainly going to be giving No Excuses! a try. Thank you Jacantha Greenflank-Fox, you really are unbelievable .

*all available, including my patent-pending beetroot spiralilasitor, from my online store
photo credit: Vegetables on a Cutting Board via photopin (license)

Review of 2015

It’s become a tradition of mine, at this dark end of the year, to look back over the previous twelve months and try to make some sense of it all. This year, my overwhelming feeling is ‘so that’s why I’m so tired’.

The last twelve months have been tough. Tough like wading through a stinky swamp. Tough like being trapped in a stormy sea, unable to make it to shore, waves breaking over your head one after another. At times my optimism has been tested. Very tested. There were moments when I wondered if I might be on some weird unreality show (The Hunger Games?). Moments when I wanted to croak ‘I’m just an ordinary person, I give up, now get me the f**k out of here’.

It’s enough I think to say that I am still here. We’re still here. I’m still learning as I go along and we are still going along. Which is good.

There have been many career highlights from which I take comfort that I must be doing something right.

Many thanks to the South and North London Adoption Consortia as well as We Are Family, to the University of Sunderland who is doing great work with it’s Children Effected by Loss and Trauma project, to Jenny Molloy and the University of Huddersfield whose students and lecturers it was so encouraging to meet, to the East Midlands Adoption Consortium and Professor Julie Selwyn for a great day (and a memorable pre-conference night out), to The Royal College of Child Psychiatrists and in particular to the real Professor Green and to John Simmonds, to Michael Roach of John Ball Primary School and finally to Dr Vivien Norris of The Family Place who hosted me for a great day in Hay-on Wye.

The Adoption Support Fund launched in England in May and was an important milestone in my year. Having witnessed and played a small part in it’s design and testing and seen the thought and care that went into what looks like a deceptively straightforward scheme I stand back and see something valuable, with more potential. This year Al Coates and Jenny Jones joined the Department for Education group which addresses Adoption Support. It has been a real pleasure to work with them both (and much less onerous than being ‘the adopter’).


Much of the ‘sat in front of a desk’ parts of 2015 have been taken up with the completion of the manuscript for my third book: a novel for children called Billy Bramble and the Great Big Cook Off. Billy is eleven years old. Others may see him as a bit of an odd bod with a temper, who is naughty and disruptive at school but he has a unique voice and an interesting story to tell. It’s been a joy to write and to see being brought to life by the illustrator Kara McHale. It will be published in March 2016.


In other 2015 highlights, I appeared on BBC Breakfast, which was terrifying and a good lesson in boiling down a complex message for mass media, we got Superfast Broadband and I ventured into podcasting.

Cultural high points were strangely few this year (for reasons of being chest deep in swamp perhaps) but included the televised version of Wolf Hall (deliciously good), a live War Horse and getting the Star Wars experience in a small, art deco cinema. The best book I read by a country mile was Heretics by Will Storr. It inadvertently taught me a lot about trauma and brains and all that and explained why twitter (and real life) can be an uncomfortably extreme place. Don’t read it if you prefer not to be challenged about what you think and believe to be true. I also enjoyed binge reading the Clive James memoirs and Lila by Marilynne Robinson.

As I’ve said often, and it’s well worth saying again, the support and encouragement from friends and readers on social media has been second to none. Thank you for your company, comfort and general big-heartedness. I like that it’s delivered with such sharp wit – laughing through the dark moments is an important way to preserve one’s psychological health.

And so for now, in these closing moments of 2015 I wish you all, families of whichever design, professionals and readers, the very best for 2016. May it be peaceful and fruitful.

Podcast: in conversation with Hackney Child author Jenny Molloy

NMW Podart1


Jenny Molloy and I worked together at Huddersfield University this week and she kindly offered to speak to me about her life, her books and her work. It was a fascinating conversation.

I’m not fussed about the F-bomb, but for those who are, or who might be listening in the vicinity of little ears, the F-bomb count is 1.

Appropriate Adult

We have a massive bramley apple tree in our garden. This year it is loaded with hundreds and hundreds of apples. We’ve eaten about twenty. The rest fall to the ground where I pick them up, throw them into a wheelbarrow and shovel them into the compost binsTile.

The compost bins are full now. This afternoon I started filling a metric tonne dumpy bag.  It’s tedious, stinky work. I was at it for an hour at least. As I picked up, more apples were falling from the tree. One fell on my head. Another fell on my back.

Today did not turn out quite as I had planned, and at the risk of sounding maudlin, being hit by bramley apples was almost the highpoint. The low point was an unexpected journey to our local centre of law enforcement, uncertain what I was about to walk into.

My personal dumpy bag is full right now and still the relentless shovelling continues. Working outdoors and breathing the thick autumn air is the best way I know of coping, especially as the season changes and I find myself less parent and more appropriate adult.

CAMHS Roundtable – The Dog Shit in the Room

I sometimes get scared before meetings, especially BIG MEETINGS, with LOTS OF PEOPLE, lots of PROFESSIONAL PEOPLE.  And so it was before the CAMHS ’round table’ meeting hosted by DfE yesterday.

There was an anxiety dream.  I was late for the meeting.  I couldn’t find the room it was being held in.  I searched and searched. I found it. I walked in. The only available chair was across an enormous room, packed with people. PROFESSIONAL PEOPLE.

As I made my way across the room, all eyes on me, I smelt a terrible smell. A stink.  I looked down at my shoe.  I had trodden in an enormous dog shit. It was clinging to my shoe in all it’s marvellous turdyness.  There was outrage. Who is this woman dragging in this dog shit?

As Al writes in his blog, we both asked families about how CAMHS could better suit the needs of adopted young people (it was recognised that some vulnerable groups of children and young people, and CAMHS, are not a ‘good fit’).  We were both deluged with responses. And I mean DELUGED.  We spent hours engaging, collecting and collating the response.

We rather nervously presented our work – your work – to thirty people from the fields of mental health, commissioning, research, social care, the voluntary sector and policy making.

We delivered some difficult messages.  We were treated with nothing but respect and what we presented was widely recognised and accepted.   We listened and engaged, because this is a complex area and all of us have a lot to learn from each other.

What Al and I presented would have been nothing without all the help and input we received. Thank you to every single person who took the time to provide experiences, thoughts and ideas.

There are some huge mountains to climb in order to achieve a CAMHS which better meets the needs of all children who have adverse early life experiences, whatever their legal status. This was the first step.  And I’m pleased to report that there was absolutely no sign of dog shit.

The document below is the one I read from at the meeting. A copy has been given to DfE.

CAMHS Round Table – Feedback from Adopters


This is a summary of information gathered informally through engagement with adopters, and some social workers and therapists on social media, private forums and in face-to-face meetings.


  • A presumption of need, rather than the burden of proof falling on families
  • Less restrictive referral criteria
  • Lower and more consistent thresholds to allow for early intervention
  • More willingness to address the needs of a child/YP who is ‘refusing to engage’


  • Better-educated and experienced workforce in the broad range of issues around the impact of adverse early life experiences, and in the differences between adoptive and foster families.
  • Less rigid diagnosis – a strong feeling that children are being forced into narrow definitions. Concern about over-diagnosis of conditions such as ASD and ADHD.
  • A more ‘multi-faceted’, broad approach that does not ‘silo’ too early on. Families reported having to pass through each silo in serial and some had ‘timed out’ of services by the time this had concluded.
  • Important that assessments include genetic and other health considerations such as FASD – ‘it’s not always attachment’.
  • Better appreciation that some parents may present poorly as a result of having lived in crisis for some time.
  • More serious MH diagnoses for under 18s are not given therefore no treatment offered to young people.


  • Appropriate therapeutic parenting courses from an early stage and an end to ‘one size fits all’ behaviourally-based courses.
  • Access to therapeutic parenting coaching.
  • Behavioural interventions were reported to be problematic and unhelpful.
  • Parents keen to be seen as ‘co-therapists’ and given the tools, support and respect to enable them to do this.
  • Welcoming, safe and well thought out settings.
  • Open-ended referrals. A limited set of sessions was seen as detrimental and left families coping with fall out.
  • More cognizance of the impact on families of well-documented behaviours such as violence and anti-social behaviour.
  • ‘Don’t presume my child is telling the truth and I am not’.


  • Trauma and attachment aware.
  • Family and relationship based, focused on understanding the roots of behaviours and building attachments.
  • Non-blaming and empathic.
  • Most favoured therapies – DDP, therapeutic parenting, arts, play and narrative based therapies and equine therapy (particularly for self-regulation and relationship building).
  • Many popular providers, most notably Family Futures, Catchpoint, Integrate Families, Chrysalis and many ex-CAMHS independent providers.


  • Families broadly in favour – as a focus for the development of expertise.
  • Team approach including social care, education, health, police.
  • It could take responsibility for transition in and out of tier 4 services, which is seen as missing.
  • Include parents and carers in governance.
  • Existing CAMHS models are popular, some are no longer in existence (two Clinical Psychologists each reported they had run award-winning services for looked after and adopted children and both had had funding withdrawn, both services had subsequently closed).

Prepared by Sally Donovan, 20 October 2015, with thanks to everyone who provided feedback.

‘She hath done what she could’

I started blogging in 2011.  Behind the protection of a pseudonym I wrote out the mess and glory of our stitched together family.  A lot has changed over four years, mostly as a result of shifts in my thinking around what success means in the context of family, and although I cringe when I read some of the earlier posts, I’m glad I have a record.

These days, writing with such personal honesty is more problematic. It’s not right to expose our family now that Sally Donovan is more than an online identity and so I stick to newsy stuff and my own clumsy efforts at self-care and tea leaf reading.

In the spirit of newsiness it’s been (another) emotionally epic week.  Adolescence is always tough going as neuro-biological changes layer over exam pressures which layer over multiple transitions.  On top of the adolescent mille-feuille is the central question, ‘who am I?’.  When early beginnings are shattered and a young person is raised by people with whom they share no birth bond, the answer to that question is born out of intense and sometimes over-whelming growing pains.

Supporting one’s nearest and dearest through all this has become about demonstrating solidity and dependability during crunch times, and maintaining connection when it’s possible and beneficial (which at times neither are). As always, I make bags of mistakes and try not to be too hard on myself, or those around me.


In the spirit of rather glorious self-care I spent a recent weekend in Cornwall with friends.  We talked and ate and drank and walked in the sunshine and found ourselves in an old coastal churchyard.  I love a churchyard, and I particularly like grave stones.  One, a simple affair for a ‘spinster’ simply gave her name and dates and the epitaph ‘she hath done what she could’.  I thought about how that is the most that any of us can ever do and how much more encouraging that message is  than those which demand we can achieve our wildest dreams, if only we try hard enough.

Royal College of Psychiatrists annual meeting in Brighton

The Royal College of Psychiatrists, faculty of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry, get together every year at their conference. This year it was in Brighton. And I was invited.


Professor Jonathan Green (University of Manchester), John Simmonds OBE (CoramBAAF) and I presented a session entitled ‘What are the needs of Children and Families during and after adoption – and is CAMHS failing to meet them?’. We formed a kind of medical/charity sector/user triangle.

I’ve learnt, when amongst medical people, not to use words such as ‘trauma’ (particularly ‘developmental trauma’), ‘attachment’, ‘dysregulation’, ‘dissociation’, ‘cortisol’, ‘trigger’ and so on. I’ve been told many times either overtly, or by eye-rolling that there are no such things and that my children (and I) should be well over it by now. As a result of one memorable CAMHS consultation I can no longer drive past the building without my stress-levels rocketing.

I ventured into the venue for the conference dinner the night before, with some trepidation. (I was terrified). The first psychiatrist I spoke to, tentatively, talked about ongoing research into pre-natal stress and cortisol levels, someone else talked about how boys and girls might react differently to trauma, then I heard about psychological models for carrying out life story work, ways of working with dysregulated children, studies into identifying the psychological needs of adopted children pre-placement, how trauma can look like other conditions and the importance of broad, all-encompassing assessments.

In short, I heard my experience (and the experiences of countless other families) and the language that fits those experiences taken as read. Some areas of contention perhaps, but that’s to be expected and not to be avoided.

Our session the following day was well received and some themes emerged; the profound impacts upon children of multiple traumas and the education of practitioners around this, a reappraisal of thresholds, a reappraisal of the system which tends to ‘silo’ children into existing pathways, the need for families to be held throughout their journey rather than ‘six sessions and you’re out’.

The nub of it all of course is the gross mismatch between resources and demand. Many families no longer express demand, by either suffering in silence, or finding their own alternative therapeutic support.  Some end up back in higher level psychiatric services and one must ask whether better, earlier intervention could go some way towards prevention.

For me, the biggest and potentially most effective untapped resource is families. As we know, the majority of all the good therapeutic work and healing takes place within families and yet many battle on unsupported and not respected. Not only that, parents educate themselves, they share information and feedback, they support each other and they fight systems some of which even to this day refuse to accept, despite all the evidence to the contrary, the profound impact upon children of trauma. And all this takes place whilst delivering high-octane parenting, day after day, 24/7.

As someone who is interested in not only parenting post trauma, but also economics, social systems and new models of delivering services I offer this:

  • Giving families(users) the resources and information they need to do the best job they can has got be cost effective, we are key members of the ‘team around the child’. Please also give us access to the evidence. It isn’t easy to find and some if it is expensive (lots of us don’t have jobs).
  • We would love to engage with you more, in a professional manner, not in a ranty, negative manner (although sometimes we may become emotional because this stuff is personal and cuts deep).
  • We would like you to engage with our groups too. We can fill a conference room with 350 people if there is a chance we can come away with hope, information and strategies that work. We like the great American speakers, which some of you don’t like so much but we’d be just as happy to listen to you. Where are you?
  • We come under criticism for lunging at non-evidenced-based interventions, and for being a bit loud and pushy. I think that’s partly because we stare into a giant CAMHS void – voids suck things into them, anything.
  • Every practitioner I’ve met (quite a few) who is offering therapeutic support to adoptive families has at one time worked for CAMHS. It suits me, because I’ve found what I need, but is sole-trader, private sector provision really a long-term, structural solution?

I know that at least one delegate who came to our session was expecting me to deliver a dirge of negative criticism of mental health professionals and CAMHS. I didn’t, because it’s pointless and disrespectful. It also leads us nowhere. I remain profoundly optimistic about the healing and progress that can take place with the commitment of families and wider teams who travel alongside a child. It’s long, hard and sometimes painful work and there are hard battles to fight along the way, but it can be transformative. Re-imagining a better future is part of that.