I better open this by saying that, this morning, I feel more comfortable with my world than I have done for two or three years. during that time, I lamented my failings as a disabled person, and generally felt sorry for myself, but the last few months made me realise what rubbish that was – I am no more disabled than anyone else. My ramblings may still be ill-informed, but I do not feel quite so crippled.

I haven’t, however, discovered some magical cure for Cerebral palsy, well, not in the medical sense anyway. I have simply realised that I have as much potential as anyone else. With the right accommodation, the sky is the limit, and then only until NASA make a rocket with hand controls. In my chair I can go anywhere. In a sense, I am only disabled by steps, and then a ramp can be put in place. I cant talk clearly, but with my lightwriter I am as eloquent as anyone. I am only disabled by the lack of ramps and lightwriters; by environmental and social factors which can quite easily be resolved.

This brings me nicely on to this weekend. A few months ago, a friend – either Becca or Katie, I cant remember – asked me if I would be interested in volunteering to become a role model for 1Voice. This is an organisation which helps children and teenagers who use voice output communication aids, or VOCAs, by organising for them to interact with older voca users, or ‘role models’. When Katie asked if I wanted to become a role model, outlining what it would be involved, I knew it would be a privilege. I seem to recall mum once saying she wished I had such a role model. At school, there were only four or five voca users, and I was the only non-oral person in my class. Thus, I did not know what could be done – the thought of going to university seemed far fetched – would everybody be patient enough to allow me to speak.

The answer to that is a resounding yes, but I did not know that, aged fifteen or so. This is precisely why the role model project is so great. If we can show these kids what can be done, they can realise their potential is as high as anyone else. There is, arguably, a tendency for young disabled people to think otherwise, but it is total rubbish: they can do GCSEs, A-levels; they can do anything. Yesterday afternoon, I was talking to a mother with a young daughter, and I told her I had no doubt that, eventually, she would go to university. This was not a throw away platitude: the girl was abundantly bright. With the right adaptations, and under the right conditions (this, of course, means a mainstream education) I do not have one iota of a doubt that this girl can forfil any of her dreams.

I sincerely hope that the young people got as much from this weekend as I did. I remember eating dinner on Saturday with a young lady called Beth. I must admit that I was drawn towards Beth because she was a fellow lightwriter user. She had a grin so wide and a face so bright that it would almost dazzle you. We were telling jokes, and we were all falling about with laughter. When Beth told a joke, her face light up with glee as we all fell about laughing. It had taken her some time to tap it in. I hope to remember that image for the rest of my life.

Then there was Adam, a small boy with hair so red he could almost be a Weasley. I watched him, yesterday, walk around, supported by his mum, picking up and throwing a ball, and I thought ‘I remember doing exactly that with my mum.’ I saw a lot of myself in those kids, and many of the problems they came up with during the brainstorming sessions were problems I had faced too. I had never felt less alone.

If I can help these kids by being a role model then it is my duty to do so. One parent told me a story – before coming to 1voice, his son had only used his voca to do school work, but after he used his voca to chat to his friends and siblings, which he had ever done before. Chatting is an extremely important part of one’s development, as is playing, so it was great to hear that 1voice gave this child realise he can do such things.

Thus this weekend made me remember things I had forgotten, and it taught me things I did not know. Katie was worried that I had a negative view of disability – I have waxed lyrical on my blog about how disabled kids were doomed to go into homes et cetera. What bollocks: the day a person like Beth goes Into a home is the day Satan wins gold at women’s Olympic figurescating.

Thus to associate disability with boundaries is to associate the moon with good cream cheese. I can see no boundaries, no limitations to disabled people, provided that the right support structures are in place. 1voice is one such structure, as vital as anything else. And if I can be a part of that, then I am honoured.