For Today… 25^th February 2016.

Outside my window…it’s grey and dull and very cold

I am thinking… about taking up plate spinning as a hobby!

I am thankful… for my health which is proving better than I thought. Before Christmas I had been convinced that my blood pressure was a problem and I now know it isn’t. I can walk 6 miles without stopping. do 15,000 steps in a working day and have lost a stone and a half since last October. Yay me!

I am thinking about… various young friends who are now pregnant. It’s a big step and I can’t but help feel they’re “dabbling”.

I am creating… a storyboard for a book – more to follow

I am going… to Manchester…. never again. I went on the tram this morning to give blood and was dismayed by the heaving inconsiderate masses.

I am wondering… what the next 5 years will hold: Heather is going to work soon, Jo too probably. Ashley is starting secondary school and I really don’t want to carry on in this job.

I am reading… again! Tarzan, The 100 Year Old Man who Climbed  Out The Window, and more all thanks to a Kindle I revived recently.

I am hoping… Ashley’s foot gets sorted. We ended up in casualty the other day after his wonky feet got worse. The left one is so out-turned he’s walking on the bottom of his leg.

I am learning… to allow others to take responsibility and not to carry the load all the time..

In my garden… I have my eyes on some garden gnomes and large pot plants.

In my kitchen… evidence of our diet is all over the place. There’s fruit, veg, a soup maker and multiple award cards for Gill and Heather’s Slimming World successes.

A favourite quote for today…

      Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak;

            courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen.

Winston Churchill

format for this post is from Mushy Cloud’s blog. Visit and follow!

I really need to sort this blog out if I mean to keep doing it.

Over a decade of wittering on has left me a bit dry on inspiration. Updates on the family only go so far and make writing feel like a duty and a chore.

So from today I’m starting to use a Daily Prompt to kick start my writing.

Today’s dig in the ribs concerns conversation and the “ideal” number of talkers.

I’ve left a link in the margin on my page if you care to join in.

So, back to the prompt.

Conversation for me is as much about listening as it is talking.

Folk seem to come to the table with something to say. This is all very well in the context of a meeting where there is limited time to achieve goals.

However, casual conversation should be more about listening to what someone has to say rather than a fight for dominance.

Often more insecure talkers will latch onto an “ism” to defend or attack, shouting their viewpoint to the detriment of others.

My contributions are often made after long consideration rather than rashly wading into a noisy fight. Large groups amplify this noise with folk actually shouting to be heard.

Reflection and silence are admirable abilities.

How does the saying go?

Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.

So, “ideal number”? Well, two, I suppose. Any less is just internal deliberation and not conversation. Any more and t tends to get noisy.

One speaker, one listener.

Then change.

I love to listen to Desert Island Discs, a Radio 4 programme which asks celebs to choose 7 pieces of music, a book and a luxury item to a desert island.

My Daily Post challenge today is called five items which tasks me with making a similar list.

It’s tough because:

a. my musical taste is eclectic and I’d probably get bored with the same seven pieces eventually and

ii. I’m not materialistic so struggle to put value into things.

The book on DID is chosen after they grant you the complete works of Shakespeare and a Bible. Mine would be an oversized Atlas. As a child I would pore over atlases and road maps and am still fascinated by contour lines, symbols and the way towns sprawl.

The other four items would be useful: A flint for fire; a durable warm sleeping bag; a tarpaulin: heavy duty waterproofs; and a big Bowie knife with accompanying whetstone.

The music, as I said before, would be an irritation.

Bach fascinates me. The convoluted quick stuff is entertaining and I can listen to it a lot, just not the famous pieces.

Jake Thackray: Sister Josephine, or Lah-di -dah, or On Again. Just so I can finally learn all the words.

Gerry Rafferty – Night and Day because I like the words.

Meatloaf – Bat Out of Hell

Elvis – American Trilogy

Lynyrd Skynyrd – Freebird from the Oakland Stadium – this 11 minute version had to be curtailed or it would just have gone on and on.

And oh I don’t know, something Doo Wop for me to sing along to.

How’s about you?

Today’s Post Prompt is just that one word, Leap.

I assume this is to do with today being the 29th.

The day is necessary almost every four years because it takes a little under 365 and a quarter days for the Earth to go around the Sun.

A fact not many people know is that end-of-century years like 1900 and 1800 weren’t Leap Years. Only end-of-century years that divide by 400, like 2000 are Leap Years.

It was law in the Middle Ages that if a woman proposed to a man on this day and he refused he was obliged to buy her 12 pairs of gloves to hide the fact that she wasn’t wearing and engagement ring.

Sorry, guys, that’s all I’ve got. My mine of useless information is empty.

So, what have you got?

Today’s prompt is the word “secret”.

I’ve always found them quite destructive things, secrets.

I understand the need for keeping someone’s confidence when they share an event or fact about themselves.

A colleague recently found out that she was pregnant and, because it was early days, told a few people in confidence. Word spread like a brush fire after a drought. I was told by four people on the first day and more by social media. She’s made it public now but I do feel for her.

Work for me is a better place without secrets. Open honest managers generate trust and loyalty. Secretive managers are looked on as shady.

Marriage works better with an honest relationship. Gill and I have gone through some rough times and many of them have been centred on unnecessary secrecy. Now we work as an interchangeable team: everything is on the table. Her support is invaluable to me and mine to her. As our teens mature they know it’s not worth asking Dad if Mum said no and vice versa.

The last secret she kept from me was my Surprise Fiftieth, for which I was truly stunned. I have no idea how she managed to arrange everything without me knowing.

So, keep your secrets. I’m not interested. If you need them you have trust issues. Nothing is worth hiding.

Today’s one word prompt is “inevitable” which is how likely conversation in our house will usually get back to the subject of diet. We love our food and have wolfed down more hot roasts, cakes and chunky bars of chocolate than a pack of sumos before a honbasho.

Being of a practical mind, when Gill talked to me about losing weight back in October I looked for a simple answer.

After a short session of goo.gling the matter was resolved.

As I see it diet is simply a matter of maths, not focussed diets.
You expend energy by living, about 1500 calories a day.

You take in energy in the form of carbohydrates. 

Anything more than the 1500 has to either be burned during activity or turned into fat. (goo.gle it people)

Most food packets show a calorific value or can be referenced via the internet.

So, with a notebook or spreadsheet it is fairly easy to draw up a rough total of the carbs you eat.

Not that complicated surely?

Even chocolate and biscuits can be included in this system.

ie as part of a calorie controlled diet.

Don’t laugh. I’m serious.

The more activity you include in your life the more you can eat and still lose weight.

A plethora of “apps” exist which even equate exercise to calories required (I use a fit.bit).

My biggest breakthroughs were:

a. stop eating crap and the weight falls off – don’t cook in fat, use the toaster, steamer and dry roast food. Chocolate bars at work and huge mounds of biscuit pushed my weight up to 200 pounds.

b. stop eating for half the day and your body retrains itself to use its blood sugar and fat supplies. After 7pm its nil by mouth until breakfast.

c. get off your backside and take a walk, swim, zumba … whatever floats your boat. I walk five miles at a time logging it on Str.ava and share it on my s.networks. My daughter has started going to gym twice a week and Gill walks into town wherever possible.

The last revelation is how much we lie to ourselves and others about what we eat.

Get real. 

Share your victories (Gill and Hev go to a slimming club and I just bore people rigid about my loss) and be honest with yourself. 

  
And the results?

Gill has lost 29 pounds since early October, I’m 19 pounds lighter and Heather is heading for a stone less than she was.

No fads. 

No lies. 

Just do more, eat less.

And yes you can include custard creams as part of a “calorie controlled diet”.

Social Media, for me, serves to highlight the connections that exist between us all.

As I made new friends and “met up” with old school chums, I was initially surprised to find that their friends were known to me.

This was not just an obvious set of connections either.

An old school friend happened to be the sister of one of my children’s friends.

An old school friend is the mother of another.

The FB “mutual” friend tab brings up some unlikely links.

More than this, things happen which hint at there being more than coincidence going on.

My parents were on a holiday in Wales years ago and on a whim boarded a train for a ride through the mountains. The train drew in to a little station where another train was stopping on the opposite line. Who should be in the seat directly next to theirs as the two carriages came to a halt but none other than my closest friend at the time who, likewise on a whim, had jumped on a train that day.

On another occasion, walking home through town I met a lad I had been to school with. He was bubbling over with the news that his first child had just been born. A few years later, on the same spot we ran into each other again and he, once again was delighted because his second child had just been born.

Huge coincidences but they do hint at an overall mechanic, a sense and order which we are just too witless to properly discern.

I should add that I am extremely irreligious and flinch at the sweeping generalisations that are made when folk attempt to convince me of a divine power.

I have no problem with Belief. Faith is a precious and supportive thing. By definition it cannot be argued with. It’s just not something I have.

Probably the final point I should make is that the longer we live the more sense we make of the chaos around us. Sometimes, like seeing “ghosts” in the dark, we think we see more than is there. Our brains are hard wired to make sense of what’s around us.

Mother Nature, Religion or just a fuzzy feeling of there being a higher power controlling our lives is just us, struggling to see order where there really isn’t any.

In Casa Crazy we have a plethora of screens and and an excessive level of access to the internet.

Each family member has an eyepad, Gill being the last to join the fold.

The four teen/adults also have eyephones and some of us have laptops too.

We also have a smart TV which we rarely use and a sk.y box which talks to the internet.

Heather has an eyepod.

So screens play a daily part in our lives.

To locate family members there is the Find Frie.nds app.

To message them there are many apps and built in functions.

Fac.etime and the like allow me to chat face to face which I rarely do. My daughter, however  often uses it. We have a courtesy in the house which asks that any virtual visitors be made known to us to avoid embarrassing conversations being overheard.

The TV screen serves only as a playback,catchup device for favourite series and is usually off. It can access the internet via browsers and apps but we only played with these when we first bought it.

This level of access is of course backed up by the children understanding Internet Safety. They can tell me how little information they give out. The older ones know that a few photos rather than one of a new “friend” are a better indicator of them actually being real rather than a 25 stone guy with a beard pretending to be “Emily”.

They know they have to screen their contacts. Can you see what I did there? No? Oh well.

The future will see these apps embedded in households. Screens will be fixed to walls and used as info and contact points. Watch the glass technology videos on Yout.ube for a feel of what’s possible soon.

Our prompt for today is the word “Sentimental“: one of many words which occur on a long list of adjectives which will never be used to describe me.

Sentimental is often applied to gestures made where one can see an exaggeration due to feelings of nostalgia, sadness or tenderness.

I don’t.

I took some flowers into a colleague once when she turned 80 but bearing in mind the uniqueness of this event, I don’t think this weas disproportionate.

Sentiment seems to be more to the fore these days with mass shows of sympathy for folk often unknown to the individual: flowers at a car crash site; and most of the nonsense on fac.ebook.

Genuine sentiment is swept away by the need to show oneself as a good person. Social Media groans with the clickable posts which usually begin “I know 99% of my friends will not leave a comment ….” on a picture of a three legged puppy or some such.

The truth in these cases is that the post-er is looking for validation from the number of “likes” and comments left. The proof of this is that a little research often shows that the item shown, be it missing person or animals requiring rehoming or lost child is either grossly out of date or has been factually changed to present a “new” story as “clickbate”.

Again social media is helping folk to salve their conscience. Rather than pay real money to support a charity, they can just click and feel better about themselves.

So, sentimental? If you are, then good luck to you. Just be careful about what you say or do when you’re swept away on a tide of emotion.

(bah humbug)

Just lately I have been using WordPress’s Daily Post to stimulate my blogging. It’s worked up to a point but one-word prompts are a bit dry so I’ll continue but just hide the word and it’s link in my normal blog.

Today they want us to consider the word contrast.

My first thoughts went to the button on the telly which when fiddled with, permanently ruins the picture. It never seems right again.

Then I considered my wife and family.

We are a bunch of contrasting people.

Our intelligence varies hugely as does our social ability.

Physically we range from “disabled” to ex-Captain of the school rugby team.

Our senses of humour are polar. Jo is laughing as I say the punchline where Heather sits looking at me quizzically.

My hair is curly as is Ashley’s where the rest have straight hair.

I love SciFi and horror where  the girls prefer Criminal Minds and Dance Moms.

I am glad of these contrasts. They make us who we are as a family and show me that we have provided our children with enough freedom to develop as individuals rather than as Mum and Dad’s clones.

It’s a tough part of parenting: to identify the best traits we would like to see in our kids and to give them the elbow room to be individuals.

Some facets are shared of course.

Jo had a conversation with a teacher where she stood her ground and politely told him that the reason she hadn’t finished a piece was because, despite asking, he hadn’t supported her. He took the time later to apologise and say she is quite stubborn and wasn’t afraid to speak her mind.

Her reply was simply “you haven’t met my Dad yet, have you?”

Maybe we’re getting some things right.

Blogging about work is a rarity because of the level of media monitoring by our company.

However, I am able to tell you about a change of hours that I brokered recently.

My shifts were becoming difficult because circumstance meant I was doing work planned for the evening shift before mine during my mornings in, then spending my two afternoons trying to catch up with the morning work. This was exhausting.

This has gone on for some time now so so last week I suggested a shift change to all afternoon/twilights onto the eveining shifts that weren’t working out. The management snatched my hand off putting a rota together and shaping the team’s hours around me within the day.

Although nothing had been said to me it sounds like the bosses were aware of the problem and were glad to receive a quick solution.

It is nice to think that just a few years ago I wouldn’t have contemplated working evenings because of the level of work at home. It simply wouldn”t have been fair to leave Gill to do it all.

But our girls are getting older and even the little one is coping for herself more.

The early mornings were harsh too and Gill noted that when I did the evening shift I was a lot more chirpy.

So it’s all change. The rota falls nicely because I get a four day break now before it kicks in. Bonus!

On a different note, my weight is down to 179 pounds from almost 200 in October. That’s a BMI of less than 28 for the technically minded (down from 31). October’s Dechox for the British Heart Foundation is going well despite Mum bringing a huge box of chocolates last week! Dear heart has no idea.

My latest walk resulted in me breaking my boots which is a bit of a set back. They’ve only done 30 miles but then again I only paid £14 for them! Have to get some new ones or risk the pounds returning. I have got a gymn membership card but haven’t had the Introductory mug walk yet so haven’t actually cast any sweat yet. Must get that sorted.

Hope you’re well.

Leave a comment. Let’s chat.

Much of what and who we are, and even the lives we lead, is incomplete.

How many of us rue the job we accepted because we needed the money: ambitions shelved for the sake of the mighty dollar.

Likewise, children, bless their cotton socks, often serve to stymie progress, be it on the job ladder or artistically.

Friendships falter and fade, withering through lack of attention as we focus what little energy we have on just keeping our heads above water.

Like charity shop jigsaws, major parts of our lives are left to gather dust, parts being lost and completion becoming impossible.

Good God, it’s depressing.

But isn’t that a lesson in itself?

We’re not perfect nor is life.

We make the best of the flotsam and jetsam cast ashore on our little bit of Life’s island.

We create children and nurture them and though not perfect nor complete, they stride away from us to create their own little, incomplete bit of paradise.

Life isn’t about “what if’s” and “if only” is it?

Maybe it’s more about “hey, dude! Look what we did!” and “Right” What’s next?”

Our time here is brief.

A fleeting glance down an alleyway in Venice during a stay in the 90’s has stuck with me over the years.

A punt with flowers was passing an old lady on a doorstep jetty and the guy steering it was chatting to her. As he passed he gave her a flower and she laughed like a school girl. A bit of fun from a couple of oldies but it made me think.

“fleeting” comes from an old English word fleotende meaning unstable, transient, fickle.

Life is fleeting. We exist for a short while in an unstable existence which changes with the hour.

Each day is made up of a succession of choices which alter our life’s path like a pinball.

We create a fictional constancy out of the bits of our lives only to be shocked when we notice the flux we’ve chosen to ignore.

It really doesn’t do to over think things though.

Life, as I said before, is fleeting.

Be like the old fellow on the punt and ride it’s unstable ever changing waters with acceptance and a smile.

Inspiration for this post is a little “icky”.

I had cause to visit a friend’s house recently and was appalled by the standard of living.

Now it is important to note that we are messy family. Our place is welcoming but is obviously well lived in. Obvious redecoration is needed and we don’t always vacuum as promptly as we should.

But. like most houses, most homes, we can haul it back quite quickly A few hours and we are presentable.

Not so this house. Dog hair is crammed into every corner. Kid wear and tear is obvious.

Everything was sticky and there was a mustiness in the air. They were jolly while I was there but the drop in standards was obvious to see.

It’s hard to be non-judgemental but taken together with their school aged children still being out despite it being dark and a 6 year old playing a blood splashed shoot-em-up game, I did feel a bit “judgy”.

But I realise we all hit these times. It’s nothing sudden. Sometimes it’s a slow slide, where so much is going on we prioritise other things. Over the months the place slowly falls apart.

Years ago I met a lady who lived in a hovel. The smell of we.ed hit you as you walked into the jumble sale of a house. Seats had to be cleared to sit down and cups had to be washed before you used them. More than once we washed up for her and did her washing to much protestation.

Eventually she met a man who helped her sort her life out. We bumped into each other a few years later and she was much more “together”. She had got rid of much of the clutter, repainted and finally cleared the plethora of her late mother’s belongings.

Maybe my friend is going through things to which we are not privy. Usually they share but perhaps money woes and work problems are things they just can’t share.

We’re always around for them. Just the other day we helped out when one of their kids was having problems with some local thugs. She was tearful and grateful for our support.

Point is, sometimes you just don’t know what’s happening in people’s lives, even when their folk close to home.

Curious conversation yesterday.

Work was extra busy when my newly appointed supervisor brought her phone over to me.

Gill sounded tense as she told me that Cerys had been sent home from school with a hugely swollen eyelid.

When she calls I usually rationalise the situation. So breathing deep we talked and I suggested rather than go sit in A&E for hours she bring her here and we go see the pharmacist. Which she did.

As you can see the thing wasn’t as bad as we first thought and the pharmacist hinted at Conjunctivitis and suggested gentle bathing.

She’d also had a fall at school and insisted on showing the nice lady her boo-boo.

Gill went home and I got back to work, breathing a sigh of relief that things hadn’t escalated.

Another colleague then came over and said she’d overheard much of the conversation and envied me my family and relationship with Gill.

This took me back a little.

I see our entire existence as a chaotic, erratic and random series of events between which we lurch, clasping onto each other in a barely cohesive, amorphous mess we call family.

Yeah, we laugh a lot, … and my kids are doing well and will turn out ok, but “envy” isn’t a word I would have expected to hear.

Then I remembered the mess she’d been through with her former partner and miscreant kids … and a nervous disorder.

Maybe she has a point.

I have what I have.

We are who we are.

I’m glad of it.

It’s my mess.

Oh, nearly forgot. Installed a gate to keep Ashley in the Living Room.

He solved that puppy.

Special Needs my arse.

The eyes are the window to the soul, it’s said.

Nah.

The blog is the window to the soul, your front room and some of your deepest darkest thoughts … sometimes.

Blog a poem and we can read between the lines.

Blog a well-guarded, largely anonymous post and we’ll pick it to pieces.

Blog about your unruly child and they will find it and hold it over your head forever.

It doesn’t stop me though.

I’ve been at this lark for over a decade and have no intention of curbing myself now.

When blogging started, like emails, they were largely academic exercises.

Now anyone can choose a free platform and rattle away on their keyboard.

This does mean that quality suffers sometimes as we wade through the quantity of posts.

However, real folk will happily blog about places we’d like to go and food we’d like to make.

Opinions posted will be challenged by people like you and me rather than geeks and trolls (haven’t been trolled since someone said Ashley’s name sounded “pikey”.

So blog away and comment too. Your opinion is more valuable to me than people I know because it’s detached and impartial.

Some tips for the newbies though:

• Always try to leave a comment rather than just clicking “like”. It gives the writer a real buzz.
• Always reply to comments, even if it’s just a thank you for visiting.
• Try to visit new commenters and read their latest post. You just might find a new friend.
• Take care posting pictures of your kids. There are some weirdy-weird folk out there.
• Read what you write a few times. You’ll be surprised at the rubbish you type first time.
• Watch the word count. Epics will never be fully read.
• Photos always pep up a post (don’t forget the caveat about kids)
• Don’t get hung up on hits, subscribers and followers. It really doesn’t mean you’re a wonderfully popular person.
• Think HARD before you turn commercial. Sponsored posts can be as boring as adverts. I won’t be reading them.

Old friends are like a pair of well worn shoes.

Comfortable because the shoe has been shaped by the foot as much as it has created the odd callous.

My longest standing friends have put up with me for 35 years.

My good lady has known me for over twenty.

The joy of compromise in a relationship is something we learn with age.

New friends seem loud and abrasive in comparison.

As a young man I took a great deal of pride in winning an argument.

Still do but now I understand that the relish I get from a well honed argument is often accompanied by an increase in distance from the “loser”.

The price I paid over the years really wasn’t worth the temporary smugness gained from pulling someone’s beliefs apart.

College was a hotbed of discussion, often going on into the night. Friendships were common and few lasted long so these Pyrrhic victories weren’t noticeable until after I started work.

Being known as a know-it-all, or often more succinctly as that asshole you don’t argue with soon forced me to back off.

Nonsense spouted in a staff canteen had to be ignored to avoid my becoming a social pariah.

This level of moderation actually stands me in good stead now.

For one, when we do Ashley’s school reviews Gill fields a lot of the questions while I sit back and listen and weigh up the attendees. On one such occasion someone form the local council was rail-roading us all into a course of action we hadn’t considered and really didn’t want. I sat and listened and when the time was right the Chair asked me for my thoughts. I duly shredded this person’s argument and concluded, with the school’s colleagues all nodding along, the best course of action which was actually the opposite of the council rep. It was deeply satisfying and all the more effective for my previous silence. She looked crushed.

At work, it also stands me in good stead as nonsense and rumours are often rife. Not joining in is often wiser than ranting with the folk who spout half considered poorly researched opinions. It also means managers will seek me out for my opinion, simply because I don’t often make it widely known.

I think the pertinent quote is:

It is better to remain silent at the risk of being thought a fool,

than to talk and remove all doubt of it.

Maurice Switzer

Today’s post from a friend of mine, Muminamerc, made me think.

Social Media, once considered “cutting edge” technology , now plays an ever increasing part in our lives.

It seems a shame though that much of it is put to frivolous use.

I envy my Mum who is completely detached from it and, truth be told, doesn’t understand it.

My children use it all day long using several different platforms to chat and snap every achingly boring moment of their lives.

They have some problems that are entirely derived from using SM.

If a friend is slow to respond or like something all-out war is declared.

Texts are misread as the timing and intonation of every day speech cannot be conveyed in script.

It’s a little like rereading a paragraph in a book: it’s meaning can change with different stresses and emotions.

There’s also the matter of quality and quantity.

Like Muminamerc, my adolescent conversation was limited to what went on in the schoolyard and later to brief phone calls and chats in pubs or shouts in discos.

Today, my kids talk all the time. Conversations are so long and drawn out and, because of the anonymity of the internet, can get very fractious very fast. Emboldened by the lack of a face to talk to, words are used carelessly and feeling hurt.

A development which might put a stop to this and may actually reverse the process is video calling using apps like fac.etime and Sky.pe. I struggle a little with these mainly because I feel a bit “on the spot”. I really have to think fast to keep a conversation going, but that’s just me I suppose.

My feeling may be shared by many others because video calling is effectively free, assuming you’ve paid for and use your internet package, and yet is not yet popular. People will continue paying for phone calls despite this FREE service.

So, back to the question, is SM killing conversation.

My answer is – “It was and still is, but it needn’t.”

If I can accommodate a face to face video call, anyone can.

Some of you will know that my son has a disability.

It’s called Septo-Optic Dysplasia – S.O.D. in short. It affects his vision which is very poor, his development which is at the crawling/toddling babbling stage despite him being 10, and it means that many hormones that should be produced are not so need supplementation.

Journeys out are often met by pitying looks, stares and, occasionally, inappropriate comments.

Now, after ten years we weather this sort of behaviour, seeing it as life outside the bubble. That is, until you live someone’s life, you have no idea what it entails. I admit that before Ashley I was a starer, a pityer and an occasionally inappropriate commenter.

We have learned to conceal our distaste for all these things and now actively work to bring folk into our world.

Being the parent of a child with a disability is hard, let’s not fudge the issue.

Night time interruptions to our sleep have a telling effect on us both.

He’s doubly incontinent, he went into early puberty which we have now delayed until he’s 11, he has seizures, psoriasis, malformed hips and feet, crossed eyes and a list of conditions I won’t bore you with.

It’s not all bad though. Ashley has a sparkling personality. He’s a comic, loves music and busts a move on the dance floor.

He has a legion of doting women who spoil him rotten whenever they see him.

His sisters (17,15 and 8) adore him, as do we.

We also act as his advocates, speaking for him and translating whenever necessary so that he gets a fair deal. Every benefit to which he is entitled we have applied for and attend updates and reviews with him and on his behalf.

His disability is expensive. Although we receive grants and benefits, many’s the time we’ve found ourselves out of pocket. Our washing machine is overworked as night linen needs washing most days. He is growing faster than other kids so clothes are now at a Small Adult size.

But there are upsides. He has made us grow with him and “problems” are now dealt with in a functional non-emotional way. I’ve always been a stroppy bugger but Gill has blossomed as a Tiger Mum who brooks no nonsense from medicos, social workers and educators. Similarly, the girls are all the more mature for living with him and have a well grounded view of disability.

So, if you find yourself gawping at a disabled person, what can you do?

First, don’t see the disability. See the person. It’s just one facet of their personality, which is as varied as anyone else you might meet.

Think before you speak. Treat the disable person, be they a child or adult, as a person.

Maybe just as important, is the need to treat us, the carers, as normal people – not heroes, not as angels, just as Mums and Dads trying to get through the day without screaming (too much).