IN THE nicest possible sense, it is ordinariness that shines through when reading today’s four-page special report on the Cheshire Home.

Ordinary people struck by crippling illnesses or accidents find themselves battling terrible difficulties just to live the lives most islanders take for granted.

Which is not to say that the home, its residents and its dedicated staff are anything other than extraordinary.

Each day they strive together to get on with their lives regardless of the hardships that trouble the residents.

So, they shop, take photographs, go to the pub, make tapestries, watch television, go on holiday, play sport. In other words, they try to live the same lives as everyone else.

And that, surely, is the whole point of the Cheshire Home: to give ordinary people battling extraordinary odds the chance to live life to the fullest extent possible.

Rather like its residents and staff, the charity is remarkably self-reliant. It is a success story borne out of a simple vision that has been made possible by the determination of a handful of volunteers and staff.

That vision has been supported by the generosity of thousands of islanders, many of whom no doubt see that the difference between themselves and the residents may be just a single chromosome or a simple accident that is over in a split second.

And yet, despite this success, there is a sense that the Guernsey Cheshire Home is not as well understood as it might be.

Of the thousands of motorists who crawl past its gates in the Rohais every rush hour most know little of the invaluable work that is done every day and night behind its walls.

And even fewer know that such special care costs up to £2,500 for every day it is open.

Which, organisers say, is where the million pound lottery comes in.

Not only is it an excuse to have a bit of fun, to join colleagues in a bid to share a small fortune, it is also a chance to remember a precious treasure at the heart of island community.