At the lowest, most awful point, when I thought she had brain damage and would never even be able to move, I had the worst thought imaginable (see blog post Secret). I was wrong. I was never more wrong and I never will be.
Tomorrow, my baby is 16. When I fill out her PIP form I know I have to concentrate on all the things she misses out on and can’t do, and every pen stroke I make feels like a hateful betrayal.
That’s us. Club 16-24. We don’t penalise anyone for having extra baggage, and there are free Pina Coladas. Or at least a pint of Cobra and a stack of poppadoms.
Video is Joan As Police Woman - Holiday