Holocausts and the Holy Innocents
Among the things I noticed when I holidayed annually in Ireland was the sight of people with Down’s Syndrome. It is no more remarkable there to see such jumans in the streets than to see, say, a West Indian or someone in a wheel-chair, in Britain. When you get back to Blighty, the streets seem suddenly strange because there aren’t any.
Then it dawns on you why there aren’t any. Rather as, just