I realised yesterday that it has been almost a year since Charlie and I went to Paris. In many ways that was a remarkable trip: I can be, lets say, a bit of a handful in terms of needing to be dressed, fed, and pushed etc. Yet charlotte being charlotte, she just took it in her stride. It’s funny; sometimes I get the impression from the disabled community that we aren’t supposed to feel grateful, but I frankly regard what miss Jones did that week as one of the greatest kindnesses ever bestowed upon me. Then again, c didn’t do it out of a sense of charity: we obviously enjoy each other’s company, and two friend’s taking a trip together isn’t a rare occurrence. It’s kind of odd: it’s almost as if I don’t know what to think, or say. Should one feel grateful?