Last night I found myself remembering the day when I fed myself dinner for the first time. I was eleven or twelve when my parents got me a neater–eater. Before then, of course, I had to be fed my food, but my sudden ability to feed myself made me ecstatic. It was so much fun: my mum and dad were quite amused when, one night shortly after,, they caught me playing with my food.

I thought of that day last night. We were at a charity event in a pub not far from here raising money to get my friend Luke a Neater-eater. I got mine through school, but luke is funding his privately; he also needs the electric version, whereas mine s manual. It was a great night; Lyn was with us for the first part, but then came home, a bit tired. I felt it important that I stayed, having used a neater eater for most of my life and knowing how liberating it was for me. I suppose few people can understand the feeling one gets the first time you scoop a spoonful of ice cream and put it in your mouth – for me it was sublime. Thus I stayed, Luke’s mum sally kindly driving me home about midnight. I had great fun, singing a little karaoke for the first time since uni, talking to people and partying in general; yet I know that feeling will be nothing compared to te one Luke gets the first time he feeds himself, or plays with his food.