Monthly Archives: December 2019

All as not expected..

And thanks to Chris and Rob, then Chris and Sarah, and Tony and Teddy, Christmas Day ( as in the actual one – the 25th ) was just brilliant. When you are primed for not much at all, and then you get pub, mates, a family dinner and a lot of laughs, and even sunny weather (!) then what more can you ask for..

Wendy and I spent a while together too. Thanks to her for that. She’s about as good as a person can be, I have to say, and I do hope she has a happy life, because she really really deserves to. When people break up, it’s usually down to both parties, rather than just one, but for the record I’ll say I can’t blame her at all for her and I separating. She was way too good for me!


And another Christmas Day today seeing Marky P and Mrs Marky P, and their lovely family, and then opening presents with my daughter Lily.
Tomorrow it’s drinks in the pub with ChrisCats and Rob, with Chris Snr, and well, possibly even more. ..

Happy Christmas to anyone reading this.

Xmas bleatings

Just had a conversation with Roger the Greek ( lodger ).
I asked him if they celebrated Xmas in Greece Land.

I asked him if they decorated trees with stuff. Well his answer surprised me! He said ‘ not trees, but we decorate sheeps’.

Really?! I said – sheep?

Yes, he said.

There was a pause, with me looking surprised and laughing. Then I said ‘ so why sheep? In Wales we only have sex with them, and that’s all year round, not just at Christmas’.

He said ‘ it comes from the sailors. They decorate the sheeps’

After a bit it dawned on me what the F he was talking about.

Ha! That was funny!

And again…!!

Three men died on Christmas Eve and were met by Saint Peter at the pearly gates.

“In honor of this holy season” Saint Peter said,”You must each possess
something that symbolizes Christmas to get into heaven.”

The first man fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a lighter. He
flicked it on. “It represents a candle”, he said.

“You may pass through the pearly gates” Saint Peter said.

The second man reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He
shook them and said, “They’re bells.”

Saint Peter said “You may pass through the pearly gates”.

The third man started searching desperately through his pockets and finally
pulled out a pair of women’s panties.

St. Peter looked at the man with a raised eyebrow and asked, “And just
what do those symbolize?”

The man replied, “These are Carols!”

I probably didn’t oughta disclose this… but…well you know!

I’m back online dating. Just tipped my toe in the water, that’s all. And a girl phones me up and says ‘ just wanna tell you I’ve lost 4 stones and 2 more to go. Wanted me to say YES… to a date.
I declined by text. She got really angry and called me a cunt!!

She said that she’d been really nice about my condition… and I’d been unkind about hers…

Well hang on a bit. Being paralysed is definitely a condition. Eating so much that you are 6 stones ( 90 pounds over a size 12 – her words ) isn’t ‘ a condition’. That’s her choice of diet and activity!

Bugger me, the cheek of it! Made me laugh. Possibly being a cunt is actually a condition?


I went out with Pia last night. She was telling me that this year she / they are having 3 Christmas Days. Obviously I said I thought that there’s just the one CD, and it’s on Dec 25th!

Well she definitely considered it otherwise – that one was for her side of the family, one was for her husband’s side, and one for for something that I can’t remember… but anyway, that’s it isn’t it! It’s but a notion, this Christmas Day nonsense.

Soooo, last night with Pia was Our Christmas night, the night before was my Christmas Day with Toby and Cress, tonight it’ll be Christmas Day with Jo, the day after I’ll get another one with my daughter, and after that I’ll make Roger the Lodger drink wine and we’ll have yet another one!

So suddenly, I’m bloody inundated with Christmas Days!

Go Pia ❤️


And good to see Toby n Cress, along with my daughter, and Ella too last night. Xmas dinner early in an Italian no less.
Also good to see my ole kayak buddy Rob today. I now live where he and I last paddled , when it was derelict warehouses bordering a canal. Times change, they do.

Thanks to Lily for her help last night, to G Spot today, and to Pia too.

Keep on keeping on… n all that.


An ever present difficulty I encounter is having to ask any Carer to do anything ‘ practical’. That’s essentially anything at all which involves the use of a tool.
Tools include screwdrivers, spanners, scissors, files… well you name it really. Anything metal that you have to use with your hand. Before my injury happened I didn’t have any concept of how widespread this ‘ problem’ is. It does explain how the handyman job is alive and well, and definitely won’t ever become a redundant post.

Because I am in a ‘ vehicle’ ( wheelchair ) ALL of the time ( except for when I’m in a mechanical bed, or in an electrical hoist , I can’t really pretend it’s not a constant concern. The nature of wheelchairs is that regular tweaking to the moving parts is a given, and is unavoidable.

When you are actually IN the chair then you can’t be doing anything to it at the time, so often I have to explain to someone else what needs doing. But it’s just scary how even otherwise intelligent people can just go to pieces when asked to turn a screw or a bolt, using a tool.

Invariably the thing I’m hoping someone can help me with is actually incredibly straightforward, and involves one bolt or one screw, but Lordy it can get ( nearly always gets ) extremely fraught.

As I don’t have a choice. When something breaks, or may break unless it’s attended to, I CANNOT just leave it. If I don’t have brakes, or my tyre is flat, or my wheel may come off, it’s not an option to just ignore it. Well think about it… it’s not!

I really do hate asking people who I know will go to pieces to help me, but sometimes I have no choice. It’s not as though there are loads of practical people wandering around in my flat. Today I was honestly very close to tears. When you just run out of ways to explain something really simple, and you get nowhere, and no it’s not changing a gearbox or servicing a bottom bracket, it’s just tightening a bolt, then I really don’t know what to do.

And the thing is, whilst the person I’m paying to help me is allowed to get upset with me, it’s seems I’m absolutely NOT allowed to express the slightest amount of emotion to them. Well that’s more than quite difficult. I mean if you saw someone feeding your baby, for example, and they repeatedly poked the spoon into your baby’s eye rather than into its mouth, well it probably wouldn’t be long before you said anything, and your words would almost certainly be laced with ‘ feeling’. Yes, it’s just a tad annoying even, isn’t it? When someone surprises you with an inability to do something really obvious, it can actually be mind blowing’ly frustrating…but I’m not allowed to show it, no matter how long it goes on for, because then… I’m the angry and ungrateful wheelchair man, rather than the chap who really really desperately hoped you can help him, and is paying you to do so too.

And that, dear reader, is my lifelong curse. 🙂

PS As if to illustrate this point perfectly, just after I’d written this, I had to leave a building. There was a lady in the atrium stood near the exit door. I said ‘ excuse me but would you mind opening the door for me ?’

She looked at me, nervously, and said ( and wait for it ) ‘ how do I do it ?’

I said ‘ well you turn the door handle and pull …’

I think it’s just a thing that overcomes otherwise sane human beings when they see a wheelchair user? It’s definitely nothing I’m doing, I can assure you!

Death again.

I went ( and Lily met me there ) to see the reorganised Death of a Salesman last night. On the way back I wrote down the ‘lessons’ highlighted in the play. I copy and paste below –

Your employer doesn’t care
Your family let you down
You let your family down
You all do things which disappoint each other
Your expectations aren’t met
Your expectations are unrealistic
Your friends don’t live up to your expectations of them
You fail your friends
You are much more important in your imagination than you are in reality
Popularity counts for nothing ultimately
Money talks
Financial success wins the day
Former glories mean nothing years later
People have short memories
One good turn may deserve another, but most definitely doesn’t guarantee one.
Promise is nothing without results

Those are in no particular order, just the order I wrote them in my phone. As I finished that list, I heard a fella behind me saying exactly the same to his mate. He’d taken a photo over my shoulder of what I’d quickly typed onto my screen.

It’s the saddest, most sobering play. For me, the themes above are not just fiction. I’ve lived through all of them, already, though the last 6 years have contained all of them, pretty much.

That’s sad for me, but of course I do see that these things happen to everyone, not just a fictional salesman and a good looking Welshman in a wheelchair.

No one is immune, my dear readers……


And yes I did get home. Wet, but ok.
Thanks to Chris Cats for the chat, for lots of nice messages, and for words of encouragement in general.
Against the odds ( he thought yesterday) today was a good day.
Thanks so much to G for her help this morning. What would I do without her?!

I went to Kings Cross this pm. That area has altered! A pretty good time was had, too.