Pol is twenty-nine years old and has Down’s Syndrome. He’s like a little baby but with an enormous body. Mummy sometimes grumbles and says that everyone claims that people with Down’s Syndrome are so sweet, but she’s got the exception to the rule, and then she sighs. And it’s not that he isn’t sweet, but he’s also impertinent and flies into rages, and he’s stubborn as a mule. And it’s very, very tough. Because, whatever their intelligence, everyone has the good points and bad.