The Bad English Patient
By Belinda I had gathered up my briefcase and turquoise lunch bag and was heading out the door, when I saw Paul heading gingerly but purposefully into the bathroom. I sensed a mission in process. I'd been trying to anticipate his needs and keep him safe so I wondered what I could do to help. "Paul, what are you doing?" I demanded, in my best ``she who must be obeyed`` voice. "I was going to wash my hair," he said. And it turned out he had plans to kneel down and put his head under the tap in the shower. ``Oh, no,`` I said, ``You are not supposed to bend your back. I`ll turn on the shower and if you take off your t shirt I`ll shampoo your hair.`` So I turned on the shower to warm up the water, took off my coat, and with his head and my arms in the shower stall, I did the honours with the shampoo, as we both got a generous spraying of stray water. "Ahh," he sighed, his eyes closed in ecstasy, "That feels so good." I smiled, and