A while ago I bought a remote control fart box machine. You press the button on a little fob and the fart speaker farts very loudly.
I’d forgotten about it, but it was in the lounge somewhere near the TV.

3 days ago I had a plumber visit to check my central heating control panel wasn’t broken. He had a look at it and then came into the lounge to chat to me. He walked in and stopped to say something. At that point, for no reason at all the fart speaker let out the loudest and longest fart. You could have heard it down the street, yet he didn’t show any sign at all of reacting…

Then about 5 seconds later it bloody went off again, and he didn’t show any reaction.

I had the choice of saying something ( that I was so childish I had a fart machine in my lounge, but that actually it wasn’t me letting it off ) or like him, just pretending it hadn’t happened. Twice.

I decided I should go with the first option, as at least then he would know that I wasn’t actually farting loudly while he was trying to assist me.

I did actually feel a bit flustered! To make matters worse, English wasn’t his first language, and I didn’t know Polish for fart machine… so God knows if he understood anything that was being said !

Blimey.

To help make ends meet I took a lodger about 6 weeks ago. He isn’t from this country, is male, and says he’s 31. He has had about 7 jobs since he moved in. I’m not quite sure what his intended path is.
There isn’t a lot of interaction between us, and conversation is, well, limited, to say the least.

To be honest it’s probably best this way, rather than having some pain in the bum that’s always there…

Having used the above last expression, I ought add that I don’t think ‘ there’s a girlfriend’ if you know what I’m getting at.
I’ve held off writing anything, but sod it, I may as well! Not much is sacred around here!

Watch this space.

We are in the theatre in Richmond.
A chap of about 85 came in via the Accessibilty entrance as I did. He was on a Zimmer frame and moved very slowly. There seemed to be confusion as to which was his seat, as like me only certain seat areas are wide enough to actually get into when you have reduced mobility status, and he’d been assigned a seat which didn’t make allowances for that.
Anyway, when he said to the attendant that he’d appreciate a different seat, she agreed and gave him the seat on the end of a row, about 3 seats away from his original one. He duly sat in it, taking about 2 minutes of zimmer manoeuvring to do so. His companion relieved him of his Zimmer, and he looked comfortable. Then 2 women appeared, wine glasses in hand, both about 60. One said ‘ excuse me, you are in my seat ‘. At this point ALL of the seats in the surrounding 4 rows were empty. That’s around 70 seats. This old chap’s companion said that he’d be assigned this seat as he was able to get into it. Completely unmoved the woman said ‘ but it’s my seat ‘. At this point I thought surely the attendant was going to say that his needs were the priority here, and could she use an adjacent seat.
But no, she said that she was sorry, but could he move to the row behind … to my disbelief the old fellah struggled up and shuffled to the seat directly behind him, having had his Zimmer brought to him, and the Richmond wine ‘ ladies’ sat down where he had been, still surrounded on all sides by empty rows of seats.
As no parties seemed moved by any of this, I held my tongue.. and the play began.

But get this – at the interval the 2 wine women decided to move two rows forward and 3 seats to the right for the second half! Absolutely no hint of embarrassment from either of them, or words of apology to the old fella that they had INSISTED move 45 minutes earlier.

I’ve been in similar situations myself, most notably on a plane recently where I had been put in ‘ someone else’s ‘ seat. There was absolutely ZERO chance of me agreeing to move, just because some precious twat preferred the seat I was in to an identical seat 10 feet away.

We lament the behaviour of the youth of today, but believe me there are some total c**** amongst the supposedly educated older middle classes in Britain.

To Wendy!

😘

I recently bumped into the lady that had originally suggested I try online dating
I said to her that I owed her a thank you for having proposed that to me, saying that I initially thought it was a mad idea, and one I had put off for about a year, but had eventually worked well for me.
She asked if I had a girlfriend now, and I said yes, adding that actually I had had quite a few before getting the right one.
I told her about Wendy, and she said ‘ oh right, that isn’t quite what I was suggesting. I thought that you could probably meet someone else in a wheelchair’. I said ‘ bloody hell, how would that help me?’ She replied’ well you’d have something in common, and also you could just have the one carer to look after you both, so it would be cheaper’.

Ahhh so I seem to have messed up then, by having a normal girl, who can walk about and even climb a stepladder if she had a mind to. Still, now I know what to do if something goes wrong…

Looking around me now I can see that other people in this cafe have messed up too. There’s a ginger bloke in the corner with a woman with black hair, and a tall thin fella with a short fat chick. And bloody hell, there’s even a black woman sat with some white people too…

So many peeps not abiding by the Rules of Engagement!

That aside.. thanks to Rob n Mark, but mostly Rob for finishing my floor and fixing a second hand hoist to my ceiling outside my flat. I never thought I’d be excited by having an electric hoist to get me 2 feet laterally, but actually I am! Funny how your perspective changes, I can tell you. Who knows what might happen next?!

As I’m unable to move laterally ( that’s sideways ) at night in bed, my buddy Mr P, at my request, put up a shelf above my headboard so that I can just reach up and get things there. They have to be on the edge of the shelf and sticking out enough for me to see them from my position lying below. It’s all a bit precarious but it does work.
The trouble is tho that sometimes I get it wrong and reach up in the middle of the night, in the dark, for one of my two( lain flat ) bottles of water, and in my dozy state I dislodge something else next to the thing I want, which comes down very suddenly onto my face below.

That’s 3 times now that I have a cut face/ black eye. A Litre bottle of water obviously weighs a kilogram, and seems to gather a fair bit of speed dropping the 18 inches onto my face. I don’t see it coming, as it’s dark and I’m half asleep…. so a cut over my left eye today is from my powerball arm exerciser which got me last night. I was a bit drunk ( yes, that doesn’t help coordination ) after seeing Alan Price in Barnes with my buddy, Chris No Cats. Alan was really popular in his day, even having his own TV show. He sang with The Animals, with massive hits like The House of the Rising Sun which pretty much everyone knows. He’s blimmin 77 now (!) but he’s still got it! Funny as well, being a Geordie lad who hasn’t forgotten his roots, or lost his accent.

I wonder if I will still be going to gigs by wheelchair at 77….

I don’t get hassled by other road users very much at all. As a cyclist in London it’s a case of near constant harassment by motorists, but I seem to get an allowance for being in a wheelchair. I think it’s a fascination thing, as in wtf is that wheelchair attached to that motorbike thing? I can go at a top speed of 17-18 mph on the flat, which isn’t bad, and doesn’t mean I am holding up London traffic that often, which is good.
Occasionally however I encounter someone a bit objectionable for no obvious reason. The other day I stopped at a traffic lights, after first going past 3 stationary cars. As I passed the first one, I heard a Male voice saying ‘ get off the road ‘ My situation is that without using the Triride attachment I would be a virtual prisoner indoors, so when someone chooses to suggest for no particular reason at all that I shouldn’t use it, I find it pretty, well, offensive.
So I turned around in the road, and wheeled back to this fella in his car and said ‘ what was that you just said to me?’ He said ‘ I said you should get off the bloody road ‘

I said ‘ why? ‘

He said ‘You don’t have a number plate ‘

I said ‘ I don’t have to have one ‘

He said ‘ well do you have insurance to drive that ?’

I said ‘No I don’t. You can’t get it ‘ And then I said ‘ do you have special insurance then?’

He said ‘ for what?’

I said ‘ for being a Cunt ‘

Yes… possibly slightly over the top, but it has made me laugh ever since! It’s funny how your mouth says things without you having even thought them up first, isn’t it?!

One of the numerous things that you didn’t really think about in relation to wheelchairs is how much they F up carpets. My regular tyres do, and the Triride front wheel more so. Well you wouldn’t ride your bicycle around and over your bedroom carpets, would you?

So despite my carpets actually having been replaced ( for free ) after a leak in December, they were already pretty shitty tbh. So I thought I’d replace it with wood in my bedroom. Step up the amazingly practical Rob C, my Yukon partner, who offered to fit my floor for me. All I had to do was give him wine in the evenings, which wasn’t too difficult.

Top man Rob ! Fantastic job, and bugger me a wooden floor does actually make moving around the bedroom far better, as well as all the other advantages.

Just need the rest of the carpets done now… 😉

Thanks to Cressida for last night, and sorry for shouting out inappropriate comments during your speech – my Tourette’s is getting worse?

Good to see Chris B last week too. You can’t beat seeing mates you have known for bloody ever. If I was a spiritual type, I’d say something like I feel the stars are realigning, or something….