I have yet another puncture and I’m currently by myself miles from home. A fella used my pump to reinflate it but it went down straight away. As I’ve checked the bloody tyre and wheel again and again I’m sure it’s not anything in the wheel that’s doing it, which leaves me perhaps running over the same sharp bit somewhere again and again, somewhere near ( or in ) where I live.
Mentally it’s not great for me to be in the situation I am, which I think is understandable- I’m lopsided and it doesn’t feel ever so safe. There’s absolutely sod all I can do about it except wait here and then continue my journey later on to eventually meet Wendy, who will at least have my wheelchair ramp car, so getting back is gonna be ok.
We are meeting to see Lily Allen in Camden – let’s face it, I keep on keeping on, to make my life worthwhile, but I do find myself in fixes. Just now, for example, I’ve wheeled towards the lift from the Victoria line and there are 2 black ( Nigerian ? ) guys waiting for the lift ahead of me. One of them keeps grabbing both his bum cheeks. When the lift arrives, all 3 of us get in and then behind me a large black lady who appears to know the 2 guys. The one holding his arse looks very uncomfortable.
When the door shuts, locking us all into a small metal box, the reason for his manner become apparent. From the overpowering smell, it would seem that he has shat his pants, and got the lift to limit how much he has to walk around til he finds a toilet?
Possibly if I hadn’t got in the lift, maybe the lift itself would have become the toilet?
Who knows. As Lily Allen sings, no doubt later on….. Smile….. right?
Easier said than done when you are paralysed in a wheelchair with a flat tyre inside a small hot lift with a big black bloke who’s just shat his pants.
It’s too bloody cold to go by road so it’s wheelchair Spazwagon time of the year for me. Wendy isn’t the greatest fan of driving in London but you can’t blame her for that.
Anyway, you gotta do what you gotta do to get to places without freezing your tits off, so it was car to Kentish Town to see the brilliant Razorlight in a small venue. Those fellas have had so many hits and they played all of them last night. I don’t think Johnny Borrell ( lead singer ) is gay, but I’d say lots of the crowd were, so lots of camp dancing in evidence – amusing as it was to see.
Great night in North London and The Forum staff are always so helpful. They do always recognise me, and that helps a fair bit I think in venues.
I got a phone call at 8am this morning, and heard an unfamiliar voice, that of my youngest daughter. She said that she was at the airport and the plane to South Africa was leaving in 20 minutes. If I didn’t send her a picture of my passport pretty much immediately then she ( and then probably not her sister and mum and mother’s boyfriend ) wouldn’t be able to fly, as SA have a rule about kids entering the country without their parents’ consent ( it seems ).
I think that she thought there was a fair chance of me ‘ being awkward and making it not possible for them to go on holiday ‘ but of course that isn’t something I’d stoop to, despite ‘ the situation ‘.
Obviously I sent a picture of my passport, as soon as I’d told my Carer where to find it. I mean, seriously, what else was I going to do?!
I just want them to be happy, with or without me in their lives.
Had the situation been reversed…. we’ll let’s not go there I think.
Five or six punctures in a month. Every time it’s a showstopper for me. It’s not like I can jump off and push, or jump off to change the inner tube, so it’s always fairly complicated and I need another person to assist.
Yes, I’ve enquired after the new solid tyres with no tubes and no more punctures. Just waiting for a recommendation of which brand/fit is best for my ( unusual ) wheels. I have Loopwheels on my chair- they don’t have spokes, they have loops instead that give the wheelchair a bit of suspension…but they also have high rims … so I have to buy the right tyre. Ahhh the world of technical tyre fit – I’m ever controlled by that one these last 5 years, having wheels not legs.
Wendy and I went to a party on Saturday. It was fancy dress. I think you are a bit restricted in a chair by what you can even get on so really ( a Dalek is possibly best ) it was just the top half of me that was a Roman centurion. I had a helmet and a sword too. Wendy was a saucy schoolgirl- you know that look I’m sure- think Britney Spears. As Wendy doesn’t look much older than a Sixth Former she definitely carries it off…
Yola and Russ were great hosts, and a load of Polish girls were very intent on swinging me around the dance floor in my chair, which was dangerous but funny. There was a prize for the best costume/ dance Combi, and I was given it – I’m sure I got the Sympathy Vote, but hey I’m ok with that.
I saw a couple of old friends there. The chap was friendly enough, but his wife really really not so, blanking me all night. I’ve known this woman for 25 years. I am godfather to her first child. She has been on the receiving end of my hospitality for most of that time in her many visits to London, and it’s also extremely fair to say that if it were not for me and a phone call that I made, she would have lost her home some years ago.
What do I think about her attitude to me? Well it’s sad isn’t it, that someone can act that way to someone that has been such a positive in her life for so long. It doesn’t make me at all angry or anything, it’s simply sad. Some people use other people and don’t give back, and are fair weather friends only.
If this woman ( let’s call her Emma Aldous Fountain- well that is her name after all ) asked me now for a favour I’d probably do her one, as I’m just not a negative sort, but you can certainly say that she probably doesn’t deserve anything more from me.
When I think about her actually, she did move from Cape Town to Hereford to be close to her 2 parents ( who were living apart in the same town ) and then managed to fall out with both of them, not speaking to either for 3 years… so really I suppose she would think nothing of not smiling at me.
It was a relief though to hear Wendy actually say something negative about someone, as I’d not before ( such a positive and generous soul ) but she really did about ‘ Emma’ for her extraordinary rudeness at close quarters.
I’m sure she doesn’t read this diary, so my words aren’t designed to be read by her – it’s simply a thing that happens to have happened on Saturday. I do think that whatever opinion someone might have of me, you do have surely to factor in the ‘ poor bugger – he’s had a fair bit of bad luck these last 5 years so I’ll give him a break’ … but obviously not applicable to Emma’s thought process.