Decisions and Reflections With Miss Barnes' death still weighing heavily upon us, we were now faced with another important decision. Our friend Roland had offered Jack the chance to apply for a clerical post at a newly built, all-purpose centre for the disabled. It was his very first opportunity in a whole lifetime of a real job. Someone was needed to allocate rooms, deal with the office work and generally co-ordinate activities. Jack had the necessary organising ability – but did he have the physical stamina? It was an opportunity which could not be rejected lightly. We discussed it for days on end, often wishing we had Miss Barnes' sound advice to call on. "She would know whether it was right for us, " we would sigh. But thinking along those lines was futile. In fact we realised at this point that we were suddenly thrown well and truly on to our own feet. I tried not to put pressure on him in any direction. I wanted only what he wanted. The status for earning for us both would mean a tremendous boost to Jack's self-esteem. On the other hand he pointed out that we would have to leave home each morning unusually early for us. There would be lunches to pack, and evening meals to prepare. In no time, we would be going to bed! We might also be asked to work on Saturday mornings. Eventually Jack decided that he would not apply for the job. He needed a more flexible routine than this would allow. He also felt that I was already fully committed, domestically. Only then did I admit to having my own reservations on the matter. Within our own environment we were capable of achieving a lot. But it had to be in our time, and at our pace. So, writing a formal letter to Roland declining the offer, Jack thanked him for the privilege, at least, of turning down his first ever chance of employment! Altogether it was a time of reflection for us both. We felt established in our way of life, but somehow something was missing – a sense of purpose perhaps? No doubt the past sixteen years had conditioned us in some way to exerting ourselves. We had been struggling against a system which refused to accept that disabled people could ever have ambitions, let alone expect them to be realised! But all this was behind us now. Whilst the loss of Miss Barnes cast a dark shadow over us, our own feelings of accomplishment could not be obliterated completely. Now we did have control over our own lives. Of course, we depended on people, and disciplined ourselves to fit in with our helpers' visits. But everyone had some sort of framework within which they must operate – their work routines, their family and social commitments. Indeed we now felt part of the community. But we did feel the need for something more. We discussed these thoughts and feelings frequently, usually as we lay peacefully in bed at night. First, Jack might sigh: "If only I could've been the bread-winner, maybe I'd feel different. What use am I to society?" My thoughts would wander in another direction. "I suppose the natural progression for most couples at this stage would be to start a family?" I observed, "Nature is no fool. She even puts such instincts into the likes of me!" Jack had always said that he would not have wanted children of his own, though he enjoyed them generally. "But I wouldn't deny you anything, of course, " he told me. But I quickly reassured him. With such a disease as ours, I judged it morally wrong to have children of our own, quite apart from the physical hazards of a pregnancy. I would not complicate our lives further. I was simply trying to find explanations for our sudden lack of purpose. We obviously had to look away from ourselves for that feeling of fulfilment, for lately we had been indulged to a much larger degree than we had ever expected. Consequently, when the St Raphael Club were needing a new secretary, Jack was happy to take the position. He proved to be a conscientious secretary in his limited way, and his work led him into many interesting aspects of running a club of this kind, with its own premises and varied membership. Although voluntary work was not exactly what he had had in mind, he felt that he was making a useful contribution. Meetings were being held at a new all-purpose Centre, run by the local authority, for disabled people from all groups to suggest activities. We wanted to see something organised for children with all kinds of handicap, together with their able-bodied brothers and sisters. We ourselves had experienced enough segregation, in "special" schools, "special" clubs, and even separate societies for separate disabilities. We liked the idea of bringing all children together. By a timely coincidence we then read a magazine about the Toy Libraries Association, and out of curiosity sent for details. Toy Libraries stock toys, and lend them out, in much the same was as another library might lend books, or records. It seemed just what we needed here in Norwich. Before long we had contacted the Social Services Department to discover what legalities were involved, and whether running a toy library really was within our capabilities. It all seemed straightforward, so Jack and I set to work in spreading the idea and writing numerous begging letters. In six months, helpful friends and acquaintances had joined us in forming a steering committee, and we had raised £300. We opened a bank account, and felt quite humble as cheques came flooding in, usually made payable to us in the absence of an official title for our toy library! It was happening so quickly. We were suddenly in the news again – but this time for a different reason. With Gerard being so closely involved with our lives, it was fitting that he should also come on to the toy library committee. He was used to taking me into the city on Saturdays to get my weekly shopping. Now, he was with me in a group of committee members out to buy toys. The new Centre was pleased to co-operate in storing our toys, and welcomed our using their main hall for our fortnightly sessions. The Norfolk and Norwich Toy Library opened to the public on March 20th 1973. At first, business was slow, but as news of our existence spread, children would arrive with their individual families, or in small groups from their special schools. Helpers' children also mixed in well, and some form of integration began to take place. As often happens, we slipped innocently into this new commitment. Little did we realise what an important part of our lives the Toy Library would become. We had found our new sense of purpose!