I just had enough cash on me to buy one beer which we shared. The Arena was more than half empty and while we were drinking, very slowly, we could see people arriving. People we’d never see on ordinary days. But this was no ordinary day. It was a beautiful day.

It was a beautiful night, and like most beautiful nights, it came completely unexpected.

I was not supposed to go and jumped in when Pádraig was about to leave and the person who was supposed to go with him could not make it.

I had seen U2 decades ago in Croagh Park, Dublin’s super-sized inner city stadium. This was The Point, or the Three Arena as it’s now known, and the setting was spectacular. Nothing like anything they could have ever done in a stadium. It was almost intimate.

But apart from the out-of-this-world show and showmanship, it was the evening with Pádraig. We shouted our hearts out, at least that is what I felt. All the frustrations and annoyances and pressures disappeared into the night.

“You don’t know me, but I would like to buy you a drink” was one of the magic moments. Which led to us having our second shared pint. At times, Pádraig’s eyes closed, but only for moments. Never have I seen him staying awake that long and being alert and interested over such a long period.

Last time we were in The Point, for the Kodaline concert, just after Pádraig had returned to Dublin, he could not very well take all the noise and was completely exhausted half way into the concert. There was no sign of this last night. It was magic. It was beautiful. And it was Pádraig’s company that made this the best night I’ve had in a long, long time. And I think he thoroughly enjoyed it too.

This is life. This is being at the helm of the Dreamboat. One Life on a Beautiful Day.

Too late to write. I’ll catch up tomorrow. Just to say that a pretty normal day, with some bad surprises, ended up like no other: pure brilliance. And to make it all even more special, this angel came up to Pádraig and myself and said: “You don’t know me. But I would like to buy you a drink.” I don’t remember anything like this happening to me ever before. In my life. Well, it happened in what once was The Point, at a concert like no other.

More tomorrow.

It looks straight forward and simple, ‘no big deal’ you might say. If that’s what you’d say, you’re wrong. This was a huge deal today. Standing up, moving his head back and forth. Not just two or three time, but around a dozen times, for a few minutes.

Head control is one of these things we all take for granted. Loose it and you’ll be wondering how on earth you ever managed without.

The dreamboat continues its incredible journey! With Pádraig at the helm!

We met friends. One of Pádraig’s, one of mine. And we saw queues. Thousands of birds on the beach (you can see them in the distance just on top of Pádraig’s head) and dozens of people in front of the coffee container at the end of the bridge out in Dollymount.

Meeting friends is always nice. Even nicer when it is unexpected. So when a young man shouted ‘Schaler’ and came over to greet Pádraig, the enthusiastic greeting and subsequent conversation put a huge smile on Pádraig’s face. When, later on, we met an old friend of mine with his sone, Pádraig smiled too, politely, but had to be patient because we spent a little time catching up on our lives.

There were thousands of birds on the beach, just along the waterline as the tide was coming in. It looked as if they were having their dinner. Their calls and the sound and smell of the water were magnificent. Being able to walk along the sea shore so close from your home is brilliant – and completely underrated here, because it’s such a ‘normal’ thing.

What we both didn’t quite understand were the people queuing to buy coffee while checking their phones. Mostly ignoring the spectacular scenario mother nature was offering.

You have to stop and do nothing from time to time to become aware of what is going on around you.

This was serious navigation. Pádraig’s wheelchair is, like himself, a little longer than average as it is. Today, he was ok to try out a wheelchair trolley in the supermarket where we did our weekly shopping.

The trolley attached to the front of the wheelchair doubling its length and increasing the weight of what had to be pushed as we were passing shelves and fridges, working our way through our weekly shopping list.

There’s loads of stuff Pádraig has been doing for the first time again over the past months and years as he has been recovering from his injuries. Today’s tour d’supermarché was a first for me – most definitely something I would not have done in the early days after Pádraig’s discharge home when I had problems pushing the wheelchair on the footpaths, never mind in supermarkets.

Now, as today showed us, now we are a great team working together on all sorts of daily chores.

Who would have thought, we’d be doing stuff like that together, trying out new gadgets together, sharing the weight?

The Irish Government announced today that they will follow the example of their Finnish counterparts and, from 2019, publish, on the internet, the income and corresponding tax paid of all people resident in Ireland on 01 November.

I just could not imagine what the reaction would be in Ireland to such an announcement. Yet, that is precisely what Finland does on 01 November, their “National Jealousy Day. Check out the report below.

Dmitry Kostyukov for The New York Times

• It’s Finland’s equivalent of the running of the bulls.

Each Nov. 1 — known as “National Jealousy Day” — everyone’s taxable income is made public at precisely 8 a.m., and Finns start poring over the numbers. Above, journalists at a tax office in Helsinki on Thursday.

Reporters look for fodder — Who might be circumventing taxes? How much did the country’s best-known pornographic film star make? — and ordinary people take stock of inequalities both nationally and in their workplaces.

While there are some complaints about the invasion of privacy, many Finns told us that the ritual baring of incomes promotes egalitarianism, deters cheating and can make it easier to ask for a raise.

Long conversations with carers about their employment. No walks outside despite the relatively dry weather. Firmly planning to get out tomorrow.

Some work in the morning, off to a meeting in DCU, training course with HSE, discussion with some of Pádraig’s carers, off to an event in the Helix commemorating Pádraig’s and our friend’s Louise’s life and contribution to the university, home at around 6pm. Tired.

Watching a food programme yesterday, I heard a dietitian saying that it is, of course, important what you eat, but it is, at least, equally important that you are happy. If you are not happy, bad stuff starts going on in your body which will, or at least has the potential, to eventually kill you. She said that with such a conviction that I was shocked. I never had heard anybody saying that with such conviction.

Giving kisses, hugging people, smiling – all these things will make your life better, healthier and longer.

I talked to someone this morning who told me that he would gladly accept the An Saol Foundation under their umbrella and as part of their organisation. I know this person would not have been interested in severe acquired brain injury, or in helping anyone with one, if there weren’t that funding.

The world is a strange place.

And today is the first day of Cúram Phádraig’s official day of operation, organising Pádraig’s personal care.

Over the past days, a few times, ‘assisted’ by swallowing a drink in some strange way, Pádraig managed to say ‘O’s, ‘ A’s, and ‘I’s once, twice or three times when asked. We have been hoping for his voice to come back and there have been signs that this will happen. Being able to say, in certain situations, these vowels a certain number of times is not a miracle, just another sign that this will eventually happen.

Have a look at the following list and try to spot the odd one out. The list is from a brain injury workbook. It’s not that difficult to do, but it’s also not that easy either, I think.

How did you do? Did you have to think about in some lines which one was the odd one out or were they all immediately obvious? I did not even know all the words and had to ask what a ‘poplar’ was and what was meant by ‘trotters’.

Pádraig got them all right. And he loved it. Whether it was easy of difficult, this kind of ‘game’ is, most certainly, exercising the brain. And that is, science and experience tells us, as important as exercising the rest of our bodies.

Half an hour a day. Minimum!

So keep it going!

There’s tons of scary stuff going on out there. Frightening stuff. I think everyone of us would have a story to tell were they asked to do so. One that would frighten the living daylights out of everyone listening.

Pádraig today carved a truly scary mask out of a real pumpkin.

“Health and safety” was suspended for a time as he took the knife and got to work.

It was one of his best friends who had brought the pumpkin to do the carving. It was so good, the interaction so lively, the way he found out from Pádraig how he would like the pumpkin to look like, the ‘yes’ and ‘no’ questions, the preferences, even the alphabet chart – it was so incredibly good, I stayed out of the room and let them get on between the two of them.

The result was truly scary! Even before the put a candle into the centre and set it alife.

Tuesday is swimming day. And swimming had been really good.

But nothing, nothing in comparison with the afternoon of scary pumpkin carving with his friend!

Not having to cook is great. Having dinner in great company and with great chat is near to impossible to beat.

We had both this evening. We went for dinner to the house of one of Pádraig’s really good friends, a family who have helped Pádraig and us along for many years. It was a really nice dinner. But what made the evening truly special was the exceptional company, the chat, the laughter, the normality of life, the being together and enjoying each other’s stories and opinions and laughter.