I meant to say yesterday that on the 05/05 it was exactly 12 years since I made my first holy communion. I actually wore pumps for the first time that day too. I remember being really annoyed that my Mum wouldn't let me wear a veil (she said simplicity was the key), but I did look rather pretty in my ball gown style dress, my hair done, my little bag, my new bracelet and shoes. I had a million photos taken that day too and I loved every minute of looking like a princess.

After the mass we went into the school hall where there was a 'breakfast' of fairy cakes and fizzy pop laid out for all the little boys and girls to sit down and eat. This was also the ideal opportunity for the video camera man to go around and film all of us gaily enjoying our special day. I remember being very thirsty and when allocated my seat, the first thing I did was reach out for my drink. See, they never told us that they had already poured the drink into the cups. Why would anyone do that?? Anyway, I reached out for my very classy plastic cup and THOUGHT it was empty so literally turned it upside down (in a way to shake it and say 'HELLO! I NEED A DRINK' - I swear other people used to do that) and all of a sudden *splash* the contents poured out like a mini waterfall. There was a lady standing right beside me and in a split second moved in a way that any superhero would be proud of and grabbed me from my seat. She did a quick examination (No, not of my arms that she so forcefully nabbed) of my lovely dress. I was still dry and clean and sparkling. Anyway I was moved to another area and then next lady, having obviously received the reports that I shouldn't be trusted with any sort of cup, dutifully handed, very. slowley. and. delibreatly. a. new. cup. and. told. me. to. BE CAREFUL as this one was full. I didn't care much about the chaos I had just caused - I was thirsty!

Anyway, so much has changed since that glorious Saturday in 1995. Some people present that day are no longer with us, so much can happen in 12 years. At the age of seven I didn't really think too much into the future or ever really worry about what it might hold. I had never heard of transplants, nor did I realise that CF was progressive. That day, I was more concerned about how many other girls turned up deprived of a veil too. Being different was something I always loathed.