The kids share the chores and though money is tight those who have homes bring food parcels for

The kids share the chores and, though money is tight, those who have homes bring food parcels for those who don’t. The group has established a list of rules which are tacked to the back of a door.Julie is the first to acknowledge that she has no qualifications for her self-appointed duties as house mother and counsellor but feels her own history gives her an insight and understanding that childcare professionals often lack. they said I’d never even get a job, but Julie’s already arranged some work experience for me a printer’s.”A chubby 12-year-old describes how many of the gang, some as young as six or seven, were drinking alcohol on a regular basis before Julie invited them in for tea. “We’d be out on the street ’til 11 or 12 at night,” he says, puffing on a sodden roll-up proffered by an older child. “They’ve closed down all the youth clubs near here and you get really bored. The older kids buy booze for the younger ones, it’s cheaper than drugs, but if we got some dope or pills, we’d do them, too.”Daily life at Julie’s flat is an endless round of washing, cooking, cleaning and cups of tea.

Sometime she even erects a tent in her back garden to accommodate extra visitors. In her living-room, 23 more children aged between 12 and 17 jostle for space on the sofa, perch on the arms or settle for the floor They come here every day after school and at weekends. The type of kids most people shun: members of a street gang which has often been in trouble with the law, many have drug, alcohol or psychological problems. They are a noisy bunch, too, shouting to be heard over a jungle beat not many 42-year-olds could stomach.
But Julie Carter is no ordinary 42-year-old. Tired of seeing these kids hanging round on street corners with nowhere to go, provoking the residents, intimidating local businesses and getting moved on by the police, she opened her doors to them eight weeks go.With her fluffy hair, big eyes, talk of the “power of love” and the unvarying tone of quiet respect with which she addresses these rowdy teenagers, she seems at the very least naive, yet the kids turn down the music when she asks them to and, passing round a talking stick, take it in orderly turns to speak.”Julie’s like a mum to me,” says 16-year-old Lisa, whose round cheeks have an unhealthy grey pallor “She really helps. I’ve been living here for a week and have started to come off the drugs. I have been taking speed and coke since I was 13 – a dealer first gave them to me in exchange for me carrying heroin for him in my school bag.”"Julie listens to me,” says Lou “She’s given me back some hope in life Everyone’s been telling me I’m bad since I can remember .. school, my parents …

Swapping them is an awful thing to do.”Doctors and opticians are concerned about the growth of mail-order sales of contact lenses, whether cosmetic or conventional, which reduce the likelihood of customers’ eyes being checked and the right advice given. One mail-order firm, Vision Direct, was successfully prosecuted by the General Optical Council this month for failing to provide proper supervision of the sale of the lenses by an optician.Mr Gartry said “I am horrified by the idea of selling a medical appliance by mail order. Patients may end up in casualty if they are not followed up.”. THERE is washing drying everywhere you turn in Julie Carter’s tiny flat in Grimsby. “We’ve been camping in the country,” she explains, “and we all got covered in mud.” Julie has taken in five homeless teenagers to live with her and her own son, 14-year-old Eliot.