I took up part-time fostering. My charge was a boy of about 11 years of age whose father had left the family, and whose mother could not cope.

My first assignment was to spend a Saturday afternoon with him and JG’s dog Buster (normally resident in California). The plan was to take him to St Andrews Park in Bristol where he would meet a friend to play on the swings, and then hand him over to his father for the evening. The day went reasonably well until the dog slipped his lead, jumped into someone’s garden, and destroyed a white picket fence.