You see here’s the thing: my son was born with all the gifts. He was born without disability in a shiny hospital where medical equipment and medicine were freely available, and that hospital was situated in a wealthy country free from war, famine and the dangers of extreme weather. He was born to a family who loved and nurtured him. He had a home, a permanent and pleasant roof over his head. He was supported, educated and cared for, so what the hell did he have to be depressed about, right? WRONG! WRONG! WRONG!
