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A few years ago I visited an institution for people with "Learning Difficulties" (AKA "Spazzies")

Mostly sufferers from Downs Syndrome, severe autism or other major cognitive disadvantages.

Until the mid '90s, these people were hosed down in a courtyard every other day. Inhumane doesn't begin to describe the contempt with which they were treated.

Ishmael had little going for him. He had Downs Syndrome (His name badge said "Ismal - Mongoloid"; they couldn't even bother to spell his fUcking name right!). A 19 year old British Pakistani who had been disowned by his parents and institutionalised from the age of 4. He was also slightly Autistic.

I had visited in a professional capacity, and set my mind to do something about it, but for a few months I took to visiting Ishmael after work once or twice a week.

We learned to spell his name together. After lots of discussions about the dangers of kettles and boiling water, I was honoUred to drink the first cup of tea he ever made.

Meanwhile, I worked with a voluntary organisation who were developing "Supported Living" Centres - Warden patrolled apartments for people who needed a helping hand to live independently. I secured matched funding from a Govt Agency which effectively meant they could double their capacity. My deal was that we could re-house Iashmael and others with the potential to support themselves, and eventually, close down the DiCkensian institution.

Ishmael was given the keys to his apartment in 2003, and with all the residents rehoused, the institution closed in 2004. YAY!

I visited him in 2004 and he was applying for a job at a Window Manufacturer - sweeping up around the carpenters, 3 hours a day. The state paid his accommodation and (basic) living expenses, so the wages would be his own.

He got the job and was delighted.

I cried.

Last year I received a letter telling me his employer found that while he was a little clumsy, he had an attention to detail they had never seen before, and he was hugely popular with the other workers. The boss (a risk taker) suggested that Ishmael might be the perfect Quality Assurance officer. His anally obsessive delight in measuring things was just what he wanted.

I wrote to Ishmael congratulating him on his promotion. He wrote back ("Fank You").

I cried.

I didn't hear from him for a few months.

Today I managed to break out of the office for an hour to see him exchange vows with Helen. Helen is also a Downs Syndrome sufferer. She's chubby and giggles a lot. Ishmael told me (a little too loudly) that "she likes fUcking, but that's OK cause I quite like it too")

He wore a tail coat and she wore a white trouser suit. They were perfect.

I'm having a little cry again.

GFY

Edited, Mar 23rd 2007 4:56pm by Nobby

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Quit being a nice person. I don't like that. It ruins my opinion of you.

Hats off to you Knob Gobbler....

You are the stuff kings are made of.

GFY.

I have a relative with Downs Syndrome. He's really fun to be around and he's got a great personality. I feel bad for his mother though because he's a real handful.

You're not such a bad guy for an cnut.

GFY

Only Nobbs could get away with entitling a story like this "A Window Lickers Wedding".

As if you needed to ask...

Flambouyantly, gymnastically and publicly

Dunno. This guy sounds a hella lot smarter than Monxdot.

Put a ******* warning on that ****. Users of this fine website have a certain expectation when seeing a thread posted by you. Given, it's not much, but I don't need to start out a ******* Monday crying into a bowl of Special K (no, I'm not making that up).

Nexa

Hold the phone, Nobby actually gives a fuck about humanity?!

Nobby has a soul? Damn.