When Sam was a baby I vividly remember sitting in the car one afternoon and having a little weep. It was a cold, autumn afternoon, I’d popped into town and, as you do, tuned into the radio on the way and an article, probably on something like World at One, caught my interest. I sat, after I had parked, for some time, listening. Even now, fourteen years later, I can remember that moment as if it was yesterday. The greyness around me, from the gravel of the car park, through the leaden sky, to the colour of the car even; an ordinary day, an ordinary mother and an extraordinary baby. He sat beside me, wrapped up in his too large snow suit, sleeping soundly as I wept, for his lost future, for my lost career, my lost world, and my new one.
It was all about school inclusion. The old…
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