The North Shore bush rang with the sound of currawongs. Spring sunlight turned the tree-tops a brilliant green. The tang of eucalyptus sharpened the breeze stirring the foliage. Yet to wheelchair-bound Craig MacDonald, settled on the front porch of the house, it was a matter of indifference whether the sun shone or not. Every day was the same to him. His mother appeared at his elbow. “Your lunch is in the fridge, Craig. Are you sure you can manage?” “Yes, Mum, I’ll be OK.” His words barely concealed his irritation. His dependence on his mother for his most elemental needs…