Of the many things that change when you have kids, evening socialising is one of the most dramatic. James and I went from a pretty healthy social life to much rarer escapades, partly because it’s difficult finding people who we can train and trust to look after Ben, partly because babysitters are expensive. Going out is relatively unusual and totally lacking in any spontaneity.

I was therefore excited as we headed to Dulwich Park last Saturday night, for an open-air circus performance called Weighting organised by our local council. I knew it would involve disabled and non-disabled actors and performers, and we would sit on a blanket, and it wasn’t raining. I had high hopes.

I was not disappointed. In a week when the election result had not been what I had hoped for and I’d read a report about Ben that had been unusually pessimistic, this was the antidote to any and all negativity.

The performance centred around a bridge which separated worlds, and upon which incredible acrobatics were performed. There was brilliant music, and a storyline about a father’s fear of letting his daughters out in to the world. The performers were lit by the sun setting behind us, and the audience was full of every (dis/)ability, race, age and gender. I was loving it.

And then the Father in the show, who had a physical disability which made it difficult for him to walk and who I suspected might have cerebral palsy, started making his way on to the bridge amidst a storyline of him accepting his family must go out in to the world. He got most of the way up the bridge, slowly and carefully, and then leapt off the edge. Attached to a harness, he swung up and down suspended metres from the ground and looked so completely free, and it was so clear that he was enjoying himself, and IT WAS AMAZING. I did a lot of crying.

Then the community choir started, signing along with the lyrics they were singing, and a children’s choir joined them. This did not help my tears dry up.

Both in its preparation and its storyline, this was a show about people, some of whom happen to have disabilities. About the part of London we live in which is diverse in every way. It was about hope, and not letting fear take over, and love, and joy.

The theatre company Extraordinary Bodies celebrates every body, disabled or not, and turns the very fact of its inclusiveness in to its greatest asset. From the sign language interpreter dancing while signing, to the council subsidising such an inspirational piece of theatre so it was free to all, it was an extraordinary performance.

At a time when it feels like disabled people are taking the brunt of austerity in countless ways, Weighting tells us what we need to remember. Let’s regard everyone as extraordinary, help each other, come together and find joy where we can.