The Elevator Pitch
![Image](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7MuVFx6wwtvcK5WNv4DUCzYbf9wLCdXtETpFW_DHapLVai8nRATU7nVKYgkY1Qxc6dp99rbVk4-tt7ZIn-uQlrKOndJ5XbAaFiCTmO2pZlK-enKNFotyQnFvFh9uYuUru62b0xtfqu0A/s320/IMG_8295.jpg)
When Covid restrictions started to ease and we were able to take Rory out and about, we realised that his appearance (at the time it was his mass of bandages) invoked curiosity from strangers. We quickly learned that we needed to prepare our 'elevator pitch'; a quick fire explanation that answered any questions without taking up too much of our time, nor encroaching on Rory's privacy. We thought we had that one fairly sussed: "He was very poorly when he was a baby. The doctors saved him, but they couldn't save his leg." And that's fine for most adults. It's the truth in the most simplest of terms so it does the job and allows us to move on. We were sorted... right? The Prompting Incident August bank holiday and our traditional twice-annual camping weekend came around, where we had our first encounter with a strange child (strange in the unacquainted sense of the word, not peculiar). We were in the playground with our friends, Pete was helping Rory up