Last night saw me and Lyn at the annual firework display in Blackheath. It isn’t far, so we just went in our powerchairs, leaving Paul at home. It was the first time Lyn had gone to the event unaided: she is going out without a PA more and more these days, and it’s absolutely fantastic to see her sense of independence blooming. Of course, when we know we’ll need the help of an able-bodied person, such as when food is involved, we’ll take a personal assistant; but on trips like the one last night, which are pretty straightforward there-and-back-again matters, it’s good to go as just the two of us.

The display itself was amazing. It started a tad late, but when it began it took my breath away. It reminded me of the displays in Congleton Park, and how, every year growing up, my parents, brothers and I used to go to see the enormous bonfire and fireworks display there. That too was an impressive show, full of loud bangs and glittering, beautiful lights. The difference was, this time, instead of being pushed up what we in our family called Siemen’s Hill, we walked home, just the two of us, along the pavements of south London. To have gone there by ourselves; to be able to hold lyn’s hand, alone with her, as we looked up at the rockets and heart-shaped bursts and the stars overhead, and then to wend our way home down the city streets, felt wonderful. It was an excellent evening, made all the more special by the fact it was just me and Lyn sharing the moment. Beautiful fireworks with a beautiful woman – what more can a man ask for?