I went to Trax today with Sue (Charlie’s Angel) and Fran. And Fran’s baby g-niece, Ruby. LB loved going to Trax every Wednesday with Sue. He was there the day before he died. Taking apart a Nissan engine. The staff wanted us to have a painting he’d done there. Lots of tears beforehand, and tears there. This is a fucking tough old gig.
The staff were lovely, and sensitive. After a coffee and a catch up, Lyndon who runs it gave us a tour. And what a fab outfit it is. We went round the quad bike shed and quad track, a lovely old barn, gardens and canteen. We walked past the smoking area where LB initially raged about young people smoking. By his last session, he’d stand back from his engine and mimic having a puff. Hilarious.
We passed the rows of work boots, painted with shoe size, the neon jackets, the lockers. And saw his engine. Still on the trolley as he’d left it. That Wednesday afternoon.
It turns out that as well as car mechanics, Trax offer catering and gardening activities/courses. And they include learning disabled people up to the age of 24.
Eh? Really? Did you hear that Oxfordshire adult social care? Bung it on your list of potential opportunities for young learning disabled dudes will you?
And remind me; what do you actually do?
Nope. I won’t rant and rage. I’m too tired. Worn out with misery and crap. And then more crap.
Instead, here’s his painting.