A Typically Busy Day Life, for us, just had to go on. After the natural mourning of my father's death, our daily routine went ahead at its usual hectic pace. Tuesday is Toy Library day, and perhaps the most crowded schedule of all. Ten-thirty a.m. sees me trundling across to the Centre in my powered chair, to discover that proceedings are already well under way. Trusty helpers have prepared the room, which entails wheeling out six large cupboards stacked with toys, inflating a big air-mattress, erecting the sturdy Wendy House, and displaying bikes, trolleys and various toys of mobility. My task is then to chat to young mothers with handicapped children and /or toddlers, and listen with interest to their latest developments. Around me, the regular volunteers are entertaining the children, and keeping files on toys borrowed. At 12 noon, the playgroup session ends. Some stalwarts stay on, and with the tidying up completed, we munch our packed lunches, brought for the occasion, and talk over the morning's happenings. Before long, Jack arrives with my brother Gerry, as he now prefers to be called. The afternoon is more boisterous, as it caters for the older children from the special schools and units, with attendances of up to 40 at one time! Through the noise, Jack keeps a record book of all transactions, including the loans of special books and advisory leaflets, and our own publicity literature. My role becomes more varied, as perhaps I meet a group of students from the local college: talk to one or two of the children's teachers: help to check jig-saws and game for missing pieces: advise new helpers; or simply do a stint on the filing system, alongside Gerry. Occasionally, we are called to pose for a Press photographer as a presentation is made to the Toy Library by a generous individual or organisation. As people filter away, the great clearing-up process begins, and everyone pitches in. Jack and I can contribute very little in this respect, except to give guidance where bits and pieces belong. But by co-operation of many willing hands, the 30-foot long hall is soon looking its spick-and-span self once more. Then Gerry loads us into the van for our short journey home. It never ceases to amaze us that we should actually have initiated such a rewarding and worthwhile pursuit. Yet the efficiency of our helpers still allows us the occasional day off, and it is gratifying to us to know that the Toy Library will carry on functioning in our absence. Once home, we eat our meal while watching the television news, and then settle on our own to read the papers, or work on some more writing. Usually, evenings are our least disturbed times, endeavouring as we do to cram all our commitments into the daytime, whether it be entertaining visitors; going out giving talks about ourselves or the Toy Library; or merely attending to routine correspondence. Intermingled with everything else, of course, come the more down-to-earth details of general housekeeping duties. Many is the time I interrupt Jack's typing with a despairing remark like: "Oh, what can we have for tea?" quickly followed by, "And who was it on the phone just now?" And with a full day behind us, bed-time comes when our night helper, Pat, arrives at about 9.30 p.m., and the routine comes almost automatically. A combination of mechanical hoist and a willing pair of hands works wonders – even hands already tired from a day's chores elsewhere. Hands carefully washing, undressing, and even obliging to a simple request, such as "Will you scratch my back, please?" The process of settling us down is invariably accompanied by jokes, and some discussion on the day's events. We here about highlights in our helper's family life. "My little girl is in the school play this week, and she's absolutely thrilled." We talk over points in the news, and have our friendly disagreements. These are just normal interactions between normal personalities. And all the time those hands work ever so patiently, moving this leg or that arm "just a fraction", until we are nestled into positions which we know from years of experience will be comfortable all through the night. After about an hour, Pat leaves the house. "Goodnight. Thanks a lot, Pat. See you tomorrow," we call finally. Jack activates his Possum, and the last light is extinguished. For a few moments perhaps, we are silent, revelling in the sheer comfort of bed after sitting all day long. Perhaps Jack then leads a revision on plans for a forthcoming event in the Toy Library, or discusses something which needs attention on the van. Maybe I tell him about the people I met, and things we have done in my evening class in Art. Whichever way the conversation takes us, sleep soon comes. Gone are the times when Jack lay awake half the night pondering over various things, simply because he was not tired enough to sleep! Now, we are both well and truly exhausted. But it is a healthy tiredness, which follows each satisfying day. We never look too far into the future, but take life as it comes and enjoy each day to its fullness. "I think I'm going to sleep now. Goodnight, Love," yawns Jack. "Goodnight, darling. Love you."