Downs
I remember being in hysterics with a mate of mine for a good hour the first time we went to the local "youth centre" to learn mapreading for Duke of Edinboro's (think I was 14 at the time, and come to think of it we laughed for quite a few sessions). It was full of gurning faces and hilarious expressions, since a group of teenagers afflicted with Downs Syndrome and other obvious, sometimes genetic, mental illnesses was also taking part.

I picture it today and all I feel now is very real shame and most certainly no desire to laugh, but it wasn't so at the time. What hurts when I think about it now is that I know everyone knew why we were laughing - the teachers, their assistants and the kids themselves... It was their appearence, and later also their brave attempts at socialisation that we waved off (her: "Do you want a piece of my mars bar?" me, looking at the melted thing that looked like a turd: "pfff, no thanks!") that make me think that if I could turn back the clock and stop myself from being such a cunt those days I most definitely would.

But then I remember the young lad with Downs Syndrome who was just arriving at the camp after walking god knows how many miles with a heavy rucksack tripping into a huge puddle of mud face-first and despite myself I have to grin - as did he!
( morrybyte made a subtle namechange at, Sat 24 Jul 2010, 20:02, Reply)