In a way you could say I have nothing to report here today. My parents came to visit for lunch, just as they visit every few weeks and just as they also visit my brothers, Mark and Luke. It was nothing special: we had a very nice lunch together, and we sorted some things out regarding my powerchairs. You know – normal, family stuff. Yet, whenever they pop by like this, I always feel a sense of intense pride and satisfaction. As I wrote here about a year ago, there was a time when I thought such visits would be absurd: when the idea that I would one day be living in my own flat, and that Mum and Dad would visit for brunch, would have seemed totally out of the question. But perhaps even more than that, I feel pride in it’s very normality. After all, whose parents don’t visit them? What’s so special about a man and a woman going to visit their son? It’s perfectly normal, and in that sense I’m just like Mark, Luke and just about anyone else. I’m just a normal bloke whose parents came to visit. Paradoxically perhaps, I feel great pride in that normality.