Just Daydreams Life was to leave us undisturbed for a time, though perhaps a little reflective and subdued. For me, another friendship had been developing, which would be more significant than I first realised. It came through my indirect contact with the Muscular Dystrophy Group, whose local branch had started in 1960. A publicity film was shown at a Young Wife's Group, when it was generally requested that anyone with a car and a little time to spare "might consider taking a sufferer out for a ride". Mildred, then in her late twenties, offered her services. Shortly afterwards her husband, Bill, called to see me. He explained that my name had been suggested because I lived nearest to his family. He was serious and gentle, and cautiously asked if I would like to go out with them one Sunday afternoon. I had, of course, met several "do-gooders", and I would be the last person to use that term derisively. On the other hand, I was wary of rash offers which, although made with sincerity at the time, could often lead to disappointment. However, Bill seemed the reliable kind, even on that first meeting. I readily agreed. My Sundays, like any other day, were usually spent in bed, and the prospect of being driven to some pretty spot, wherever it was, appealed to me enormously. Being in different company was also a promising proposition. Thus, my new friendship began. Mildred and Bill took me for a couple of trips to the coast, and then I was invited to tea. In and out of the car, Bill lifted me well. Never once did I feel a burden. I was accepted on equal terms and I appreciated it. In their home I found pleasure with their children, their records and their books. They generously shared a part of their life with me, in a way which I shall always remember. Although life had afforded Mildred and Bill a far better education than I had, I still appreciated our conversations, which opened my mind to many new interests. Mildred was a trained teacher, though with her children, four-years-old Andrew and Sarah only eighteen months, she was not working then. As a Probation Officer, Bill was slowly climbing the promotion ladder. Within a year, however, Bill was transferred to County Durham, and the family had to move. I naturally missed them, but we kept in touch by post, and before long, they invited me for a holiday. I was reluctant to leave Jack, but he insisted that I should go. Mildred and Bill had always listened interestedly whenever I talked about Jack, so they were sure to let me telephone him. They appeared to understand the deadlock situation which Jack and I had almost happily settled into. Indeed, we had 'almost happily accepted it" – but not quite! Mildred and Bill seemed gifted at treating me as normal. They almost convinced me that I was not disabled. My confidence was growing. Jack wrote once, "It often happens, while following the contours of Life's bumpy road, that one reaches new peaks from which to survey the scene below. One is presented with a different aspect, and is therefore able to see a situation from a new angle …" I suspect that that was beginning to happen to me. It was this new thought process which seemed to lead Jack and me into excited conversations on the practicalities of living together. It became a frequent topic, as we would discuss in detail the arrangements necessary in our "dream home", covering everything from the kitchen lay-out to the basic structure of the dwelling. We revelled in exploring every possibility of making money, which seemed to be the biggest, if not the only, stumbling block between us and the realisation of our ambitions. "If only I had a job," Jack would sigh, "at least we could save more, and have a go at it all." I used to agree, but would often reach an optimistic conclusion. "Perhaps you'll win on the Premium Bonds one day, you know?" We fully realised that we were only day-dreaming. The one visible symbol of the bonds between us was the Eternity Ring which I wore on my wedding finger. To the outside world , this affinity was the total extent of our mutual commitment. But who could blame people for such short-sightedness? After all, we never revealed our hopes and desires to anyone. And few could have realised the true depths of our feelings. But we bore no grudges. Fate may have been unkind in presenting us with these limitations, but she had restored the balance with this gift of pure love and companionship which could not be repressed. The big question was – how to use that gift?