Uni is far too much fun; I’m starting to feel guilty. Today was the inter-hall rugby tournament. all the halls of residence on campus fielded a rugby 7, and they played 14-minute matches until one group was crowned the victor with cheap tesco cider. I and most of the university went to watch. It was a nice day for it too.

For some reason I did not feel quite as mobile as usual, so I just sat and talked to the guys. they kept offering me beers, so I had two cans. My lethargy was in part brought on by the trouble over who helps me eat dinner on Tuesday. On Tuesday afternoons I have bill as my PA, and he’s with me until late, so it make sense to eat out with him. However, this means cancelling home help, which seems simple to me – I just tell my breakfast helper that I won’t need help in the evening – but apparently it causes all sorts of hastle with my social worker. So now I cant have any sort of spontaneity? Its not that I don’t appreciate it, but I sometimes hate having to have so much help, to rely on so many people, to have to eat at certain pre-set times. On the other hand, I love the freedom I now have: I love writing in the arboretum, going to the library, going places with bill, the intellectual cut-and thrust of film lectures. I have more freedom than ever, largely due to my mum, dad and social worker.

I am torn between gratitude for my new freedoms and resentment of their limitations. I’d guess this paradox is common to all disabled people.

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